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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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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.

"Because nothing says vacation more than haranguing the local men," she agrees. "I knew I like you for more than your piloting skills."

Zinda offers her a lazy high-five.

Dinah returns it.

And wonders how she can get a drink without getting up.

It's a knotty problem.

Zinda sips her own drink, blissfully.

Mmmmmmm, it's delicious.

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