wind in hair
Dinah Lance blondecanary
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Top of 34 Cathedral Mansions, New Gotham, Saturday evening
It was cold outside, but Dinah had been inside studying all day, and it was going to be worse tonight. So she was getting her meditation and shielding practice in as the sun went down, among the sleepy-quiet of the mansion-apartment-complex's rooftop garden.

It may or may not have been working real well, judging by how often she opened her eyes to look up at the skyscrapers around her.

[open!]

Clearly what she needed was a quality distraction! Good thing her BFF had an uncanny sense of timing for these things.

Or at least, the multiverse liked coincidence.

Either way, her phone was ringing.

Abandoning ommm and her mental labyrinth for now, Dinah pounced on her phone, beaming at the caller ID. "Priestly! Tell me something interesting, I'm in between studying and a cold patrol." Clearly, she needed mental caffiene! A quality distraction totally qualified.

The panic in his voice would definitely wake her right up, yes. "Something is horribly, horribly wrong."

Not to freak you out or anything.

Dinah was on her feet, all joking dropped. "What? What's going on? I can be there as soon as I get a ticket!"

"No!" Priestly yelled, his hand flying out instinctively as if to hold her back from coming -- and sending a spatula flying across the room. "It might get you, too!"

"What might get me?" Dinah demanded, not even slightly reassured. "Has the island gone crazy again?" With the unspoken subtext of, Are you crazy right now? I am so showing up.

He quite possibly was, yes.

"I can't cook!" Yep, that was definitely full blown panic in his voice. It even cracked on 'cook'.

"How is that even possible?" Dinah sat down, bewildered and still scared for him. "Sweetie, breathe. In, out... when did this start?"

"It's not just a creative crisis!" He might have been questioning that earlier, yes. "It started this morning. I tried to make an omelet with iceburg lettuce. And almost cut my finger off doing the chopping!"

"Okay, so... Um." Right, confusion had the upper hand. "Do you need a doctor? Is this something going on with your muscles?... Lettuce?"

Wha?

"I think it's my brain. I don't even -- WHY DO I HAVE SO MANY DIFFERENT KINDS OF SALT?" Priestly hissed, his voice going high and breathy, then had to dodge a flying cast iron skillet. "Oh, uh, also I seem to have developed some kind of telekinesis? They might be connected."

A looooooong pause.

"Ya think?" Dinah facepalmed. "Holy wow... okay, first, take a deep breath, and try to calm down. You know how I get when I'm upset? This can not be helping you. And I don't know why you have so many kinds of salt!" Except it was his thing! Spices! Cooking! Why the pop quiz, Priestly?!

"I don't know, either! I used to know! I keep thinking I should know, but then I try to do something and it's like 'wait, what's the difference between kosher and sea salt?' And then I get frustrated and throw my hands in the air and things start flying."

"I know this! Kosher doesn't have iodine! And it's rougher. You told me that." Wait, wait, wait. "Waaait. You don't know this stuff? But you have a superpower? Um. And you were serious about the lettuce?" Dinah paused. "Oh my god, the island hates you." And everyone else! Why would they take away his cooking, why!?

Because the island was a jerk. "Maybe I need to sacrifice a goat or something." There had to be some way to make the island stop being mean to him. "And yeah, I freak out and move my hands and the stuff around me goes airborne and I don't know how to stop it and how do I run a restaurant if I can't cook things?"

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