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Dinah Lance blondecanary
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The Clocktower, New Gotham City
So Dinah's new job was going well. Nikki and Peter had agreed to let her do some skip-tracing on the computer, and shadow them on a few other cases. So far, it was completely confirming her hope that private investigation was the job for her. Even the slow parts were interesting.

Granted, her irregular hours had been even *more* irregular lately, which was why she was crashing at the Tower this morning, instead of back at the apartment.

Also, there were waffles to be cajoled out of Alfred.

[ooc: expecting someone, but open for phone calls/texts.]

"Hey, you don't need any excuse other than Alfred making food," Priestly said. If there was any chef he admired, it was his best friend's surrogate grandfather type. "So the job's good?"

"IT IS SO MUCH FUN." Dinah was bouncing up and down like a five-year-old. "They keep saying I'll get bored with the routine stuff soon, but so far it's running and following people and tracking them on the computer and I love my jooooob!" HUG!

Yeah, there was no way Priestly couldn't beam back at her at that one. "That's awesome! See, I knew you'd find something."

Dinah shut the door finally, and called, "Priestly's here! We need breakfast!" Then turned back to him, grinning. "How long do you want to stay? 'Cause maybe you'll get to meet Nikki and Peter if it's longer than a few days."

The intercom next to them buzzed, and Alfred's voice came through. "I'll make up another omelette then, shall I?"


"I was thinking a week? These things usually last like a week, right?"

"At the outside," Dinah agreed, slinging an arm around him and shuffling toward the kitchen. "Unless it's all of reality being messed with, and I haven't seen any gun ... vending machines? Seriously?... here in New Gotham."

"Seriously. Apparently some of them shoot fire." A beat. "The guns, not the vending machines." Another beat. "Probably."

"Aaaaack." Dinah bumped her hip against his. "I am so glad you got out of there before you died. Again. I'm sorry, but the Island likes to make you suffer, and I've got Finals next week and papers to turn in and I'm just glad you're here and not there. Yeesh."

Alfred was already flipping eggs into fluffy little pockets of deliciousness, peppers and chopped bacon and mushrooms surrounding the pan, ready to be added.

"Welcome back, Master Priestly. Gouda or white Cheddar cheese, or both?"

"Absolutely both," Priestly said. "I knew if I died again, you'd seriously kill me. And honestly, some of the kids up at the school are totally able to handle gun machines. Others . . . not so much."

That was true about the adults, too. Including Priestly.

"Same old, same old," Dinah had to admit. She leaned forward on the counter, watching Alfred work his magic. "You shouldn't go back there 'til you hear from somebody that it's all over. Or until we hear that on the Radio podcasts. Luke's can get by with whoever's crazy enough to stay on the Island."

"I take it another crisis is besetting your alma mater?" Alfred said, carefully sprinkling green onions into Priestly's omelette.

"Oh god," Priestly said. "Dean's going to be running my restaurant."

He shook his head.

"Nothing confirmed. But there's some creepy dudes running around buying out the crappier food places and digging in the preserve, and they brought in a lot of inexpensive, easily accessible murderous weaponry. So, you know, not the best situation around."

"The food places? And digging up the preserve?" Dinah gave him a perplexed look. "These two things don't go together... and then they go together even less with guns." She contemplated that a moment. "Unless they're bad guys from the Illinois Smith movies. Which, not impossible, it's Fandom... Dean knows how to run the Diner by now, ya know."

Then Dinah was sniffing the omelette that Alfred had carefully slid over to Priestly, with a garnish of hash browns and parsley.

"Dean's idea of high quality food is using cheddar instead of American cheese on his burger," Priestly pointed out. "And I'm totally fine with not knowing what's going on on this one until after it's done. It's not that often I get enough warning on these things to actually get out the way."

"True and true," Dinah had to concede. "But you'll be back there before you know it. Oh! We can go holiday shopping! And hit the ice-skating in Robinson Park while you're here!"

Alfred was sprinkley Gruyere and Swiss cheese now, and said, "And by 'hit the ice-skating', I trust we won't be dealing with you actually hitting someone during the holiday season, Miss Dinah."

"Wait, you don't have an ice themed bad guy in town, now, do you? Because I'm down for ice skating, but I am no crime fighter."

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