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dinah lance

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This is a totally logical and sensible way to do things. Shut up.

The way is: Dinah has a whole list of cities and places she wants to visit, including all over the United States; California, Pennsylvania, even Kansas, as she hasn't yet thoroughly investigated Keystone City.

She's starting in Greece.

This is, she claimed, because it's her vacation and she's always wanted to vacation in Europe and soak up the Mediterranean sun. But it's really because she's much less worried and apprehensive about what she'll find on Themiscyra than, for example, Star City, California. She hasn't even decided what she wants to find, but she can handle not finding it better if she starts with the Amazons.

Zinda's gone off to look at Egypt, after dropping Dinah off at an abandoned airfield. For some reason island-hopping on her own in a tiny plane is easier than admitting to Lady Blackhawk she doesn't know exactly which island is which on this world. Also, it feels more like a vacation.

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Neither does he. He just looks sadly out of the window, his brow growing more and more furrowed as the time passes and he sees more of Greece.

"So what happens now?" He asks, sounding rather lost. It's pathetic, really, the great Indiana Jones sounding like a lost kid.

It breaks Dinah's heart, is what it does.

"Kansas is safe," she says. "Metropolis has facilities for refugees and there a farm that's operating as a community for... outsiders, I guess you'd call them. Lady Blackhawk's going to pick me up in a couple of days to fly me back."

Essentially, she's inviting him along.

He'll adjust. He always does. But he's not used to being so totally out of his depth.

He takes a deep breath, and turns his best charming smile on her. He's going to act as if this is all perfectly normal, dammit.

"Could I prevail on your better nature for a lift, then?"

It will, at some point, occur to him that if she's not Dinah Drake Lance, she might not be married. But not yet.

It's weird, how much he looks like Harrison Ford, but not. More like how that actor looks now, when there hasn't been an Indiana Jones movie for twenty five years.

His smile is full of charm, and Dinah returns it immediately.

"I'm sure we could find room for you."

"I can earn my keep," he says with an easy grin. "You know. So long as that means teaching archaeology. Or digging stuff up. I'm good at digging."

Just, don't make him dig vegetable patches, okay?

"Really?"

Dinah's eyes slip down.
To his whip.

"Is that all you're good at?"

The easy grin turns just a little bit smug.

"You've seen the films," he drawls. "You tell me."

"Oh you know what movies are like," Dinah says, dismissively "It's all hyperbole. I'm sure I can't be nearly as good as Mom in her comics."

"You seemed pretty damned good to me," he argues. He feels just a bit dismissed, and nobody dismissed Indiana Jones.

"Bet you that it's all true."

It probably is, actually, but Dinah wouldn't mention it.

"My favourite scene's probably the one with the rolling boulder," she admits.

"I hate rolling boulders," he groans. So much you wouldn't believe it. Why is it always boulders? You'd think they'd come up with something new in all those hundreds of years."

"I think I'd prefer them to closing walls of spikes," Dinah offers.

"There's always a hidden safety lever with spikes," he says. "Wouldn't want to accidentally crush the bigwigs after all. Nope, boulders are my pet hate."

"And snakes."

Teasing!

He shudders.

"Why did that have to be in the films?" He asks. "Dammit."

"Makes you an interesting, sympathetic character!" Dinah points out. "People see it and think 'Indiana Jones is really cool, but even he has a phobia. I can really relate to a normal guy like that!'"

Anyway, she teases Zinda about her Musophobia. ~~Just off-panel~~.

"I am not an 'interesting character'," he protests gruffly.

Hmmph. Sympathetic indeed.

"No," the Black Canary assures him. "You're an action hero."

"Damn right," he agreed. That was much better.

Wait.

"That doesn't mean. . . there aren't action figures or me, are there?"

Groan.

"Probably," Dinah admits. "But they can't be as bad as the ones you can get of me, even in my universe."

"Yours are a bit. . . busty," he says, smirking, and inspecting the bust in question. Purely for a comparison, you understand.

It's smaller than action figures and comics depict it. Also held in with kevlar, but mostly - smaller.

No one can do what Dinah does with anything that's going to get in the way.

"You make one little fashion mistake," she says, focusing on something else, "and they make you suffer for it the rest of your life."

It's still a bust worth looking at. Indy approves.

"What are you meaning?" He asks. And wonders if she'd model it for him.

"I had this thing, a few years back," she explains. "Puffy pants and sleeves, big black things on the shoulders. You're lucky you missed the eighties."

Edited 2008-06-21 16:57 (UTC)

"Sounds like it," he agrees. Although, you know, not. Because he'd have liked to actually have lived the time between.