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The Aerie One is a common enough sight at the Cooper farm - it barely raises an eyebrow for a massive jet to use the remaining roads as a runway, not when there's still a castle and a cruise ship towering over the fields.

Zinda is lounging in a deck chair by the fold-out stairs, in a very glamorous but utterly impractical bikini, with a giant pair of sunglasses and a cocktail.

Her cocktail has an umbrella in it. It's traditional.

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"Awwww, damn." Zinda pouts mightily. "So you wouldn't know if his will really is ... all that strong, then."

Dinah gives Zinda a look that portrays all the shock and appallment she can muster.

SHOCKED AND APPALLED.

Zinda sips her drink innocently.

"I hear he can construct anything with that ring," she remarks.

Dinah clears her throat.

"As long as your underwear's not yellow."

"Huh, yeah." Zinda is suddenly thoughtful.

"Does that mean he can't do nothin' about the Japanese?"

World War II Zinda is World War II.

Dinah's grin fades just enough for her to effectively facepalm.

"Do me a favour, Lady B. Never say something like that again."

Zinda eyeballs her doubtfully, and then the lightbulb goes off.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry."

This political-correctness thing is hard to get the hang of okay.

Dinah understands! She just also doesn't want to hear it.

"It's weird though. I hardly expected any more people from our world to come through, after us."

"Is he from ours, or one'a the offshoots?" Zinda asks, sitting up to peer over towards the farm. "He the same one you know?"

"Seems to be," Dinah says. "I'd hate to think there were two Hal Jordans like him in the multiverse. Women would never be safe."

Zinda smirks at her. "They might not wanna be."

"They never seem to want to be," she agrees.

Zinda sighs happily.

"We gotta find you a fella, D."

"I had one," Dinah says. "Indiana Jones, remember?"

"Yeah, where'd he go?"

She shrugs, and leans back in her deckchair.

"I got bored of making the flight to Europe everytime I had an itch."

"Aw, you know I'd never complain 'bout shuttling you over," Zinda says, using one free toe to prod her friend's leg. "Even for itches. And why can't he come here, huh?"

"'Cause he's a self-obsessed inidfferent asshole," Dinah says cheerfully.

"Just the way I like 'em."

"Y'know," Zinda says, sipping delicately at her drink and looking incredibly innocent, "Skipper did say somethin' about that once ... Ra's al Ghul? Really?"

Oh, it's like that, is it?

"Yeah, I made a bad judgment call," Dinah concedes casually.

"Least he wasn't gay."

Zinda sighs wistfully. "But the fancy ones are just so darn pretty. It ain't fair."

"Nothing to say you can't look."

Dinah fails at PC in her own special way.

"Just as well," Zinda agrees mournfully. "Such a tragedy."

"Maybe we should both get ourselves guys," Dinah agrees. "Are there singles clubs in Hawaii?"

"If there aren't, we'll set some up," Zinda promises her, grinning.