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Despite her loud and aggravated protests to Dinah and Zinda about 'wasting her time', with the exception of the first ten minutes in the club to get oriented, Babs has spent the entire time out on the dance floor. She's currently working on her fourth dance partner, the previous three all having ~~been wimps~~ taken a breather.

There are few things Barbara Gordon likes more than dancing, and even fewer things that she can still do in the chair. And her enjoyment is evident in the absurdly large grin on her face.

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Barbara looks up at Dick, trying to gauge how much Sparrow knows about who they are and what they do. "I've got the keys to an apartment not far from here..." she trails off, letting the leaving it to Dick to suggestion anything more... secure.

"Almost literally an alternate universe me," Dick says, answering the unspoken question. He glances down at Sparrow, whose shirt (was she wearing that colour before --? huh.) does not quite hide a lump that might be a yellow utility belt. With pouches.

"She's okay for anything, I think. We're gonna need everyone we can get."

"My universe already has a you," Sparrow points out, not altogether happy at the association. "Remember? The Bruce Wayne fanclub?"

"That's not me," Dick says, firmly.

"I don't kill."

Of Barbara; "does she?"

"No," Dick says sharply.

Barbara quirks an eyebrow at Sparrow, "I strike you as a cold-blooded killer?" The temperature of her gaze drops a few degrees.

"Didn't say anything about cold-blooded," Sparrow points out. A tiny movement of her face indicates that under her goggles, she's rolled her eyes.

"Look, lady, in my universe you're a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent with a license to do pretty much as you want, crappy taste in men and a really unoriginal codename. For all I know, not seeming like it is part of the training."

But the hint of a plaintive tone under all that means she's at least leaning towards an almost apology.

"Well, the unoriginal codename's pretty much the same, but I'll have you know I have excellent taste in men." She shoots Dick a quick appreciative look.

Sparrow's scowl is back in full force.

And not because she thinks Barbara has bad taste in men.

Dick looks hard-pressed not to roll his eyes. He ruffles her hair instead. "C'mon, ladies, I suggest we go somewhere we can actually talk ... and Sparrow can tell me what happened to the shirt you were wearing when you came in here."

"Hold on for a second, I'll let Dinah or Zinda know I'm taking you guys back to the Aerie One." She lifts a hand and catches Dinah's eye before exchanging a quick series of hand gestures.

"Okay, follow me, I guess?"

"Anywhere," Dick says, and laughs. He's only half joking, after all.

"Just the words I wanted to hear," she laughs, sparing Sparrow a glance as she leads the way through the door, giving Grace a grin and a wave.

Sparrow sticks close on Dick on the way out, sulking in a mixture of embarrassment and distrust of Barbara. But at least they're leaving, and that's a good thing.

Dick agrees.

If only because he wants to see Babs again somewhere warmer and more welcoming.

[I votes for new post? Somewhere?]

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