shatterverse | (no subject)

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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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"OK," Dinah agrees, and jerks her head in a random direction. "Come on, then."

Like a little lost lambkin, Indy follows after her. It's not the usual way of things - but at least the view's good.

The direction in question leads into a stretch of overgrown farmland and, eventually, to an apparently abandoned village.

"Doesn't look like we're going to find a decent tapas bar," Dinah begins to complain, turning back to Indy.

Behind her, the light catches the barrel of a gun in an alley.

Indy spots it, as he's looking in the direction anyway, and instinctively shoves her to one side as his hand hovers over his whip.

"Watch out," he snaps.

"What the..."

Dinah stumbles only because she's not used to men shoving her aside, and turns to see what made him move so.

Out of the alley comes a young Hispanic man, pointing a gun straight at Indy. He smirks and jerks his head to either side of himself, where other man in similar dusty old clothes emerge, carrying chains and lead pipes and various other cliches.

The leader smirks at Indy and jerks his head towards Dinah.

Who has her hands on her hips now, nd is looking bored.

"Big mistake," Indy drawls, and steps to the side as his whip flicks out, curling around the man's gun and jerking it out of his hand.

He cries out in pain and annoyance, and swears loudly in Spanish. The rest of the gang heft their weapons angrily and close in on Indy.

They've only just begun to move when fishnets and leather blur and Dinah takes down half of them so fast the other half run away.

He opens his mouth to say something, then shakes his head.

"That would be why the big mistake," he says, curling a lip. "Might as well just castrate me now, while you're at it." That last is, obviously, aimed at Dinah.

"What?" Dinah says, still in the brief time it takes her to catch her breath.

Then, "what? Just because I can hold my own?"

"Way to make a guy feel inadequate," Indy says, curling a lip. "You could have left one for me." He's rather bitter.

"I didn't make them run away," Dinah points out. "Anyway, you disarmed the gunman."

"Needn't have bothered," he mutters, grumpily.

He's not sulking. Really. Sulking isn't manly enough for what Indy is doing.

And Dinah is not snapping. Honestly.

"So what, you want me to act helpless and let you save me?"

"Yeah, because that would be intelligent," he retorts, sarcastically. "Way to make everything about you, lady."

"So I should just stand back and play sidekick to the great Indiana Jones?"

(She doesn't sound like one of the women form his movies, shut the hell up)

"Oh, for. . ." He takes off his hat, turns it around in his hands, and plonks it back on his head, exasperated.

"No! I'm just not used to being totally over-shadowed!"

Dinah is equally exasperated for her part and throws up her hands.

"Then maybe I should just leave!"

Indy stalks towards her, eyes narrowed.

"Oh, I don't think so, not the good little avenger that you are, you wouldn't leave me stranded, would you?"

He finishes the sentence in front of her, crowding into her personal space. She's being. . . a bitch. Regardless of the fact that he's being an asshole.

God, he reminds her so much of Oliver she wants to break his kneecaps.

"You can look after yourself," she points out

"Nice to know you think so," he says, then takes a deep breath and lets it out, counting backwards from ten in his head. In Sanskrit. He deflates almost visibly.

"Look, I'm sorry," he says, awkwardly. "I guess I am being a bit of a dick."

Dinah nods.

"Just a little."

"Gee, nice to know you have such a high opinion of me," he says, sarcastically. She could at least have made a show of disagreeing.

And Dinah was just about to apologise herself. Now she rolls her eyes. Again.

"Well, you were," she points out.

"You didn't have to agree," he tells her.

He snorts. He knows he's only this much of an ass when he's hot for a woman. Doesn't seem like he's going to get anywhere, though. (As a seduction technique, pissing women off has worked surprisingly well for him in the past.)

The trouble, as far as Dinah's concerned, is that it is working. This is why she's extra angry, because she can see it coming.

Uh.

"So you weren't actually apologising, just fishing for compliments?"