8942/So Here's the Thing

So Here's the Thing
Date of Scene:	04 December 2021
Location:	Sherwood Florist, First Floor
Synopsis:	Alexander warns Dinah about Shivaness and then they talk about life.
Cast of Characters:	Dinah Lance, Alexander Aaron

---

Dinah Lance has posed:
<<We need to talk.>>

That was the only thing in the SMS Alexander received. Four words. Then, in a subsequent message, <<Shop. After closing. Tonight.>>

Loquacious in person, it seems Dinah is very spartan in text. Almost as if she doesn't trust the medium.

A bit on edge for most of the day, after the final customer has left, and Audrey been sent home with a friendly "Don't bother. I'll clean up. You go have fun," Dinah quickly swept and ordered the shelves while waiting for her guest's arrival.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A message like that had been expected.
    When it finally came and flitted across the data display of Alexander's cell, he accepted it as true to the word. It was needed, and had to be done. To do otherwise would be to leave Dinah adrift and without a full grasp on the matter at hand that she had been involved in.
    So the response that came to her was given back and said simply, << Alright. >>
    Later that evening, after the store had closed, after young Audrey had stepped out and left her employer behind, Alexander pushed away from the small alcove in the package store opposite Sherwood Florist. Hands deep in the pockets of his pea coat, he strolled across the street pausing long enough for a car to go by before he half-jogged the rest of the way and up the side of the curb.
    Part of him half-expected her to be waiting there with a shotgun under the counter, or perhaps just a grim glowering look. Either way, there was a price to pay with friendship when one might well feel betrayed.
    The door jangled as it opened, one hand holding it. Alexander's voice. "Hey."

Dinah Lance has posed:
A slight stiffening at Alexander's voice, then gone. Dinah turns to face Alexander with a ... not quite welcoming, but close, expression on her face.

"Do me a solid, would you?" she asks gesturing behind him before turning to go over to the only place with seating in the shop: her little nursery. A bottle and two shot glasses are waiting already. "Close and lock the door. Sign's already turned to 'closed'."

Making her way past the clutching grasp of the ferns, she takes a seat at her counter.

"We've got some stuff to clear up. Like the timing of this invitation."

The card from Shiva appears in her fingers like she's practicing prestidigitation.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Turning around and shifting to the side, he locks the door behind him with that low metallic thunk-click. It's an angle where just on the off chance she's /really/ displeased it lets him see her reflection in the glass of the door, but then he turns back and meets her gaze.
    A glance around the room is given, then he takes a deep breath, "You want the story, or want to ask questions and I'll answer?"
    As he says that he steps further into the store, and likely thinking it may be a bit of time... he starts to take off that jacket and hang it over the side of his arm. "Either way, I'll stay here as long as you need to feel satisfied with the answers. Alright?"

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Well, if you've got a story all prepared, it would be rude of me to bypass all that hard work now, wouldn't it?"

Voice light. Face pleasant. That usual little glint of mischief when she's pulling legs ... absent. The eyes are watching. Analytical. Uncharacteristic of the woman he thought he knew.

But very characteristic of someone reputed to be an investigator and vigilante...

"Not trying to imply the story is false. Just ... probably, if you've got it prepared, slanted a bit. I'd like to hear it. Then I can ask questions."

Two shot glasses fill. "In vino veritas," she announces, before downing her shot. The doses of truth appear to be both-sided.

"But in your story, I'd really like to understand the timing in particular. There was a ... coincidence there. That bothered me a bit."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Stepping forward, Alexander at least seems to trust that he's not about to be attacked by a Black Canary leaping across the counter with a flying kick. But he still does maintain a hint of wariness even as he reaches the counter and leans on it. His pale hazel eyes lift to meet hers and for a moment there's that hint of sympathy there that she might have seen when Shiva was speaking to her in such a serious manner.
    He takes a deep breath, "Mmm, I don't know about slanted. I mean any story told by an individual has the flaw of an unreliable narrator." His lip twists a little, eyes lowering, then returning.
    "First off, there's an imbalance between us. I found out something you didn't want me to. I had... no intention of doing so. And I know how things look." He lifts a long-fingered hand and pushes it through his hair, curling the grip to rest on the back of his neck as he ponders.
    It's then that he takes the drink up and downs his shot, setting it down with a soft glassy clink. He meets her gaze again, bites his lower lip, then says. "I like you. Heck, I thought you were pretty keen and impressive way back when we first met."
    He looks to the side, takes a breath, then looks back. "But I have my own secrets that I hide. They're not horrible or anything. But my father is very old, and he has abilities beyond the norm. I inherited some of those. And also because my family is a magical crazy family, so lots of weird coincidental things happen around me."
    He holds up a hand, "I'm telling you this so we're kinda even. But also so you have a frame of reference to work from, right?" Then he clears his throat, looks at the glass and pushes it across the countertop with a faint glassy scrape on the wood.
    "May I have another drink, please?"

Dinah Lance has posed:
Wordlessly Dinah fills up both shot glasses again and picks hers up, emptying it.

"You know."

Not a question. Not even a statement of fact. More a confirmation to herself.

"You can't tell anybody, Alex. Nobody. Not your family. Not any friend. Not any of my friends. Nobody. Not for my sake: anybody stupid enough to go after me gets what they deserve. But there's people around me who suffer when that happens and they're innocents in this."

She lowers her eyes to the table, tapping her glass on it in some obscure rhythm. (Bass line of Achy Breaky Heart, but that's in her head. The line itself is so generic it couldn't be actually placed.)

Her eyes raise again. "But knowing that you set me up with this Shiva? Or did you mean it when you said you'd set that up before you knew?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "I understand," Alexander says as he takes the new drink, curling his hand around it and drawing it back before him. There's a slight twist to his features as if remembering something distant that didn't entirely sit well with him, his eyes lifting to look past her for a moment before returning. "I've had a few friends who spent their time running around in long johns."
    A ghost of a smile, then he takes a deep breath. "I have no intention of telling anyone. I haven't told Shiva, she doesn't know."
    There's a brief moment when he smiles, "When I came back from my trip, she sought me out. She intends to run this tournament, she asked me if I would vouch for anyone. Who had the honor and the talent to compete well. You are one of the three people that jumped to my thoughts. Even before I knew all of the..." A motions with his chin, "The other stuff."
    "And then I came across your store. We caught up, and I was like... that's good timing. Since I felt I could talk to you before Shiva found you. But then..." She knows what happened, the gym, the realization.
    He gestures with one hand. "So yeah, I thought you had what it takes before the mask. Think you still do."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"You don't get it, Alex," Dinah says. "The mask? That is me. It's all I ever wanted to do since I was able to stand." Her arm takes in the shop in a broad sweep, her coat getting snagged in a rose bush on the nursery table, distracting her for a moment as she disentangled herself. "This stuff is who I hide behind. Badly, as it turns out."

Of course it's hard to hide when you do all the stuff you do in fishnets out of them too except for the scream...

"I was brought up on this, you know. Stories of it all. I knew all the big names of the time. I was their little 'niece'. You know why I go to Grant's? 'Uncle' Ted was the first who took me seriously and trained me. Taught me how to fight and, more importantly when to." She snorts. "He taught the Batman. Seriously. He was a big deal back in the day."

Her eyes flick back to the bottle, hand half-raised to pour herself another shot, held back by willpower and by Alex's nursing of his own.

"Just so you understand, Alex. The person you think you know is not who you think she is."

The Shiva card makes an appearance again.

"Even though she makes a perfect fit to this either way. So thank you for that."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    One eye scrunches a little and she can tell, can read the body language enough that he wants to say something, but holds himself from doing so. Instead he lifts that glass and downs his shot, then sets it down again. Until finally he murmurs, "There was always something about you out there, Dinah. Something wild. When we trained I could tell, you wanted more. You also seemed to come to life then, every time you were on the mats with someone."
    A pause, then he adds. "Though, to be fair, I didn't think it would drive you to fish nets." Said steadily, dead pan. But his smile has a hint of warmth to it as he looks down and eases the empty glass back toward her.
    "So I promise to keep your secret. I just..." He lifts his head, chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully. "I need you to know that Shiva. Is... very dangerous. You need to be careful."
    Perhaps he imagines he cannot see the connect in her gaze, that she might not be getting it, or getting it to quite the level he is hoping. Then he says, "Let me put it this way. The first time I met her, she challenged me to a duel to the death."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Yeah, everybody said that about me. Wild. Uncontrollable. Untameable. Only Uncle Ted got me. The rest tried to put me back in the bottle and cork it."

Dinah snorts again, pouring two more shots and downing hers. The flush begins to invade her cheeks from the bottle contents: three shots to the wind, so to speak, to mix a metaphor or two.

"I inherited the fishnets," she says haughtily. "It's tradition. I'm not the first Black Canary. I won't be the last probably." A giggle, a wink, and a punch on Alexander's upper arm. "Because fishnets rock. Just ask Zatanna Zatara."

Her demeanour sobers up at his description of Shiva. "I got weird vibes off her. Obsessed vibes." Wrinkles form in her brow, guiding concern from her hairline to concentrate over her face like a storm cloud. "But I didn't get 'first date killer' vibes. What did you do to her? Or with her?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "I mean," Alexander leans against the counter and takes a sip this time of his shot, "I don't /dislike/ the fish nets." His lip twists up a little, giving a hint that it's actually the opposite. Then, just before he finishes that shot, "You make them work."
    But the mood edges towards the somber when it comes to what passed with Shiva, his brow knits together as he slides his hand back from the glass, letting her refill again if she wishes to, but not pressing. His cheeks take on that healthy hint of crimson, more pronounced on his pale skin.
    "It was at an underground fight, over near Hell's Kitchen. A lot of people were betting, one of those big loud raucous things. She came over after wandering, I saw her from afar. We talked and spoke about martial arts, she does have... a unique approach to it."
    He clears his throat, pale eyes meeting Dinah's as he murmurs, "She then told me I had a month to train, and then we would fight to the death. That it didn't matter where I went, or what I did, that ultimately we would do so."
    Alex lifts his chin, "So. I went, and found out all I could on Shiva, and trained. And a month later, we fought."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Skepticism is a healthy thing, and Dinah's face is the picture of health. Just above her crossed arms.

"And yet there you both were, standing alive." Dinah taps the card as a reminder. "How did that come to pass? You died and I'm talking to a ghost..."

Another light punch to the upper arm. Light by her standards, of course.

"...nope, you're corporeal. So I'm talking to a zombie?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    A slight smirk lights those wry features, a hint of amusement, then he crinkles his nose at her as she teases him. She throws that second punch and his hand catches hers, fingers curling under her hand, thumb pressing into the back of it, what would be a wrist lock if they were playing and sparring on the mats. But now at the casual speed between them it's just a faint caress, coupled with a slight draw toward him as if it was but the next step for a throw.
    All harmless, though it does bring them slightly closer. "Mmm, we fought." As he speaks his voice is quiet, a low rumble of intensity. "Hardest fight I ever had, like... we are both good, Dinah. But she is a thing apart."
    Those eyes lower, then lift again, eyebrows knitting together in thought and recollection. He held her hand out slightly and then said. "She struck here..." A fingertip of his touches to her left side, mid-ribs. Just a soft pressure of his fingertip. Then he releases her hand and leans to the side, close enough that his breath brushes against her cheek. Another touch to the other side of her rib cage. "Then here."
    And finally he leans back lifting one hand with index and middle finger pointing then lightly touches it just below the left side of her clavicle. The movements all very slow, gentle.
    Then he eases back and says, "And my heart stopped. I felt my body failing, I lost most of my awareness. I fell."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah's eyes raise ... not at the proximity. Not at the languid touches showing where he'd been struck. But at the finisher.

"So how...?"

~How are you alive?~ ~How are you moving?~ ~How are we having this conversation?~

But also echoing through her brain...

~She could teach me Dim Mak?!~ The forbidden art that Otomo kept back from her just as he held back on her potential. The very reason why she left his tutelage ... not the Dim Mak but the entirety of not letting her loose to her full potential.

The confusion in her face is mixed evenly with eager anticipation ... and lightly seasoned with a hint of trepidation.

~What have I got myself into?~

Not visible: fear. Or wisdom for that matter.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    As she takes it all in, Alexander then watches those thoughts, the way they shift her features faintly. He can't read minds, but he can feel that faint tendril of anxiety, though it's clear she is curious. Perhaps very much so.
    Then, finally, he answers her question. "I was dead, my brain was dying, I could tell that those were my last thoughts. Then I watched her as she channeled her chi. Drew in upon herself, and struck me again... my heart started."
    His lip curls slightly then he says gently, "So she was truthful with me, but very Obi-Wan certain point of view." The smile grows a little more then he murmurs. "So we've trained since then, off and on. I think I disappointed her by not wanting to choose her path as mine."
    His glass clinks lightly as he sets it against the bottle. Again offering that choice for a refill to her. "So now you're aware of what craziness you've gotten yourself into."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"But I'm not fighting her."

Dinah's left eyebrow crawls up her forehead as she looks at Alexander querulously. "She's arranging a kumite. Best of the best in a knock-out. I'm good. Hell, I'm great. But I'm not going to win. I'm just going to learn how far I can go and how much more I have to do."

Is she talking to him or to herself?

"So I don't think your experience is all that relevant. I won't be getting into her league. To her I'll just be one of the ones who fell out along the wayside."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Nah," Alexander says as he uncurls a hand toward her, palm open in her direction and resting on the countertop. "I was more meaning it was the type of person she is. To do what she did." The young Olympian's brow knits as he follows along with her train of thought, though it does seem like she is giving voice to her inner monologue and less to trying to convince him.
    "You need to understand what she's doing with this. Or what I believe she is doing. She is looking to find people worthy of training with her."
    A deep breath is taken as he then, for the first time, takes the bottle and tilts it on its side. He refills for himself, then asks if she wants one silently with only a look to meet her gaze.
    Once the drinks are settled he takes a sip of his and says, "She seeks to pass on her knowledge, and if you are successful, and she views you as worthy... she likely will want to face you in a similar duel. I think..."
    A hand lifts to rub at the back of his neck, "I think on some level she wants to die. But only after finding a worthy successor."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"I think you worry too much, Alex," Dinah says, though her face shows no shortage of her own worry at the description she's been given. "You really think I'm going to claw my way to the top in a kumite? Sounds like you took all my ego. I'll get past the first round no problem. Second even, maybe. To the top? Winning? Not a chance. All it would take is someone like Dragon entering and my face is wiping the floor."

Another round poured out. Another shot taken. Liquid courage fuels speech.

"Like I said. I'm not just good, I'm great. But I'm not the greatest in the world. I can stand up to Uncle Ted now and take him two times of three. There's still a scroll a mile long of people who'd hand me my ass if I didn't have my little secret holdout."

Her eyes are adding as she speaks. You can't tell anybody. Ever.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The youth's hazel eyes are lowered on his drink, and for a time that's what receives his contemplation, though the paths they wander alongside it are varied. He tilts his head to the side, downs the shot, then clinks the glass back down.
    "You think she hasn't seen all of those people? Dragon? The Batman? The Question?" Alexander shakes his head, "She's most likely seen them all and found them lacking one way or another. She has never seen you. This will likely be your audition, and most likely it will be less important to win the entirety of the contest. And more important how you win."
    Shaking his head, "Then again I could be talking out of my ass. Bottom line is this," Alexander's eyes find hers and hold them, and for once there is a controlled steel to his gaze, his irises narrowing subtly. "Keep your guard up, even if you're winning. In the ring and out. The whole thing is a test. Every moment."
    A pause, then he exhales slowly, "Just wanted you to be aware of that."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"I've always got my guard up!" Yes. Like holding court both as Dinah and as Canary in Grant's gym. Someone is due a little ass-kicking from reality if she doesn't smarten up soon.

But soon doesn't include now, and Dinah's bright eyes, flushed cheeks and irrepressible grin aren't having any of the doom and gloom that Alex seems to want.

"You know, I need to get food in or this booze is going to kill me tomorrow."

Slipping out of the tall chair, she saunters, a little lop-sidedly, toward the counter, pulling out a sheaf of delivery options. "Thai? Vietnamese? Argentinian? Ooh! I know! Ethiopian!" Excitedly she waves around one of the menus before turning to the phone on the counter. "What are you having? You've had Ethiopian before, right? I mean food, not co-eds."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Needless to say the look Alexander gives Dinah when she proclaims to always have her guard up... is not the most supportive of looks. In fact it might be downright incredulous. But he says nothing about it for now, instead his lips curl as she eases to the side and out of the chair toward the counter.
    "Hey, just trying to help. My hands are clean now." As if he had discharged his duty to give her the heads up. Though as she rises he'll get out of the chair, taking the bottle with him as well as the glasses, so they can relocate over there if needs be. Or perhaps just wanting to keep it near.
    She starts to go through the papers as he settles in beside her, setting the bottle down with a faint slosh of the liquor, not as affected by it as her though his cheeks are ruddy.
    "Har har." he offers in response to her so clever wordplay about having Ethiopian. It's while she's perusing that he oh so casually lifts a hand and without warning /boops/ her nose.
    "Guard always up my ass," Though his smile is warm and amused, even if his words are oh so mean. "We're going to have to train soon so you don't embarrass me for my recommendation."

Dinah Lance has posed:
To be fair to her, the guard was up. Just slow. Very slow.

Alexander's hand reached forward.

Alexander's finger booped.

Alexander's hand withdrew.

Dinah's block went up.

There was a short, deadly pause.

"I didn't say it was always fast. Just always up!" she finally exclaims, mock-pouting. "But just for that, I'm ordering and you have to eat what I pick. You'll suffer now!"

And as she picks up the phone to order, her off-hand comes snaking around outside of Alexander's field of vision in a clumsy (and badly-aimed) attempt to boop Alexander back.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "What are you ordering?" He asks as he leans to look over the menus beside her, his shoulder nudging hers as if to jostle her out of the way, though settles in that comfortable way of just maintaining contact. He ponders and nibbles at the corner of his mouth thoughtfully as one menu is replaced with another... then another.
    Of course then is the moment when she brings her off-hand into play for the counter-boop, which gets a chuff of amusement from him as his nose crinkles. Then, purely out of /pity/ he lowers his head and touches his nose to the errant boop.
    It might almost be cute and a nice thing. Until he opens his big mouth. "Pity boop." But then he's back to looking over the menus that remain as she's working the phone.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Whatever she's ordering it's a lot of gobbledegook words like 'dal' and 'injera' and other weird foreign words. And it's an alarmingly long list. Like she's buying the whole restaurant, not just the food. Finally the phone call is done and she looks across at Alex. "Thing about saving the world? You get invited to a lot of grateful dinners and get hooked on foods that turn out to be stupid expensive here. Thank God the shop's doing well or I'd be joining ... like ... whatever bad guy group. Just so I can afford my food habit."

She half-turns in place to face Alex. "So have you had Ethiopian before? 'Cause if you haven't, you might want to steel yourself. So of the dals and wats are ... very spicy."

More foreign gibberish.

"So that's my meal covered. What are you ordering for yourself?"

Pity boop, eh?...

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "I don't know," Alexander says as he reaches a hand out and lightly moves some of the menus with their subdued words or their extravagant images. If she hasn't squirreled away the Ethiopian menu then he'll oh so casually slide it over toward himself so he can do some illicit studying while he chats with her so nicely.
    "I could see you doing the bad guy gig pretty well. Your eyes have that evil glare sometimes." Which, in some ways, is true.
    As if to prove the point he looks up at her and murmurs, "Yah just like that. Or more... this."
    As he says that he affects a squinty-growly look, almost devilish. And, well it might work if his cheeks weren't so red. Then the effect is entirely ruined when he narrates, "Grr. I'm a bad guy."
    But then shit gets real as she threatens him with no food. His eyebrows rise up and he says, "Oh I dunno. I think I can convince you to share."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"I'm intransigent," Dinah opines with a wide-open laugh. "Just ask ... well, ask my ex. You can't persuade me of anything once I've made up my mind."

Beat.

"But I haven't actually made up my mind to starve you yet, so you're in the clear. It's much more fun watching you react to the food than to watch you crying while I eat."

She goes silent then, letting the oppressive perfume of the flowers fill the space in place of the sound of her own voice for a few merciful moments.

"You said you're ... different. Like me. What did you mean? The way you talked you sounded like you were one of those Westchester types."

She probably means Xavier's school.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "I'm very lucky then." Alexander says as he remains there, shoulder against hers gently, though then the touch leaves as he turns to face her more directly. "I haven't had Ethiopian, however." A beat, then he adds. "Neither the food nor the co-ed." That last word is murmured with his eyes widening as he makes a slight face as if she was a crackpot and he was humoring her.
    But then the topic changes subtly to how he is different, as she too is different, and she'll see the way it shifts him a little. Eyes lower, his head tilting to the side. When they were training those years ago, she likely had noticed small differences in him opposed to the other students.
    The way he had approached the training, was very mature, very focused. The fact that even when given a harsh task or a terribly rigorous exercise he never flinched, never hesitated. And he never backed down from a challenge. As if anxiety had no hold on him. Not even to mention that in those few moments when he was not wearing loose clothes, or the gi hung loose on his form, he had a build of an Olympic athlete.
    So perhaps there may have been suspicion, moreso now. And his answer?
    "Do you prefer... when you get a bandage off for it to be pulled free slowly, or one quick rip?"

Dinah Lance has posed:
"I ... think I'd prefer to take it in a quick rip."

There was a second's pause there. As if Dinah were thinking over the wisdom of what she was about to say before making that choice.

"But if you turn out to be some slug creature from Venus, I will be SO disappointed in you, Alex."

The fact this is bravado is transparent. But also the fact that she's actually ready for strange revelations is equally transparent. Which, given the circles she's affiliated with, isn't an entire surprise.

"Just ... not in the face, K? I always have problems explaining bruises on the face without people making insulting assumptions."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Quick rip." He echoes her words when she says them, then gives a nod, those hazel eyes lowering as he starts to compose his words. Only for her to suggest he might be a slug creature from space, which has him heave a small 'heh' that would be a laugh if he gave it a touch more energy.
    Looking up and askance toward her, his eyes hooded a little beneath his brow, the Olympian smiles and draws his lower lip between his teeth for an instant... breathes in, then he relates.
    "My father is Ares, God of War. He met my mother some years ago and she passed when I was born." There's a slight pained look, one eye sort of scrunching up a bit as he looks away. Then back. "As my dad was raising me I was kidnapped by another pantheon and they tried to use me against my family. After that war I was made Phobos, God of Fear."
    He leans over and pours another glass of liquor as he relates this, perhaps expecting the need for another drink. Both are filled should she wish to join him, but he takes his and has another sip.
    "When you met me, life was returning to normal. Though now..." He lifts a shoulder, lowers it, "I've returned from Olympus and I'm trying to... get a hang of things."
    His eyebrows raise, "And the Shiva contest is not making it very easy."

Dinah Lance has posed:
Dinah stares for a few moments, eyes narrowed, as she assesses whether Alex was joking or not. She takes the drink poured for her without even really looking at it. Once her throat got wetted she finally speaks.

"Oh, is that all?"

She pauses a moment, savouring the burn of the whisky.

"I mean, you've met Diana, I presume, then? I have. And a bunch more. Gods ... yeah, impressive but ... not my first ride in this particular rodeo. You didn't need to hide that from me."

She continues staring suspiciously, however, as if she thought still there was a slight chance Alexander was bluffing. Though who'd bluff by claiming to be Phobos of all things? Someone most people would think is a woman's name because of the confusion with Phoebe.

"Hey, on the bright side, who's going to go after the people you care for? They're scarier than you are!"

And there's that irrepressible grin again, paired with the twinkling eyes behind the haze of the booze.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Yup, that's pretty much it." Alexander offers, letting his smile grow as he realizes that of most people, Dinah is perhaps in the best place to take that sort of confession in stride. His head bobs a little in answer to the question about Diana then he murmurs, "And yes, Diana and I get along pretty well. She's a good aunt."
    He takes another sip of his drink and then downs the next shot with a clink of glass hitting the counter in the next instant.
    "I don't really /hide/ it, more I just don't make a big deal out of it. People can get..." His pale eyes distance, slipping somewhere over her shoulder before they ease back to her own beautiful blues and he murmurs, "Weird when they learn about those things. And sometimes they want you to do party tricks and yeah..."
    He sort of waves that off as a story for another time.
    "So /now/ will you share your food? Or are you gonna be a butt?"

Dinah Lance has posed:
"How is eating my own food something that makes me, and I quote, 'a butt'?!"

Dinah's fake outrage doesn't work. There's something about giggles that interferes with such posturing.

"And anyway, I already said it was going to be more fun watching you suffer on the foods than it would be to make you watch me eat. So you're going to get some of my bounty. Not least of which because I think more people need to eat the awesomeness that is Ethiopian."

Beat.

"Co-ed or otherwise."

Thankfully before she could go further along that drunken, rambling word association slide, there's rapping at the door. "Oh good! It's here!" And with that Dinah scampers off through the shop, lurching a little, but somehow managing not to knock over any displays. At the door there's hushed conversation, rustling paper, and the handing over of several large grocery bags of food.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    As she's at the door handling the transfer of goods and the tip, she'll hear a voice call out. "Do you /always/ order this much?" With no small amount of condemnation in that tone of voice. The jerk.
    He stays there, however, doesn't even get up to help. Which lets him refill his own glass, though once that one's down he tips it back fairly quickly. Though he does have a strong metabolism that processes the alcohol quickly... well this much in such a small window of time lets him at the least get some hint of a buzz. If not approaching poor Dinah's level.
    So it is when she returns with the bags that the tip of his nose is reddened, or perhaps that is residual damage from the emboopening. Either/or.
    "Oh here, let me give you a hand." He finally says with a half-grin, only when she's already got the stuff back there. He'll help set things down and get them arranged on the counter top.
    "I do think, however." He starts to say, "That we should train over the next few days." She knows the why of the matter, he doesn't need to explain.

Dinah Lance has posed:
Jokes on him. She's well known among delivery types for the sheer quantity of food she orders.

He'll learn. Tonight, probably.

"OK, if you've never had Ethiopian before, gonna have to teach you how. First is this spongy bread stuff. It's called injera."

The pizza-box like affair is opened and, sure enough, there is a spongy bread-like pancake filling it to all corners. Then another and another are opened. The scent of flowers does battle with the scent of almost musty sourdough.

"OK, now the stews in here are dals if they're made with lentils or beans, and wats if made with meats or vegetables. Just dump the containers onto the injera in separate piles." She demonstrates with a double-handed dumping of a meat and a bean stew, each forming a tumbling heap of food on top of the flatbread.

"So," she says, continuing, waving at Alex to help along, "once we're done this, you eat it by tearing off a strip of injera and using it to pick up whichever of the stews you want."

She pauses in dumping the stews to illustrate, tearing off a good inch-wide strip for about six inches long and using it to pinch off some of a cabbage-looking concoction and popping it in her mouth. Returning to the task of upending the stews, she says, "OK, now you try."

After chewing and swallowing.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    "Ohhh," Alexander says softly as she shows him, and indeed it looks like he hasn't had much experience with a meal like this, though he makes a confession that might come across as a so terribly scandalous thing. "This is sorta how I like to eat chicken tikka."
    Though he seems to settle into it easily enough, since stew and bread and meat and veggies are lovely lovely things. He does, however, lean forward to sniff-sniff-sniff, almost like a curious canine before he tears off a piece of bread and captures some of the meat with its ends, creating a tinyish 'taco' if one will.
    He settles in there at the counter and takes a few bites, and chew chew chews. "This is nice," He offers, though the emphasis he puts on the last word there might give the word some weight to it. Nice is a good thing.
    "So tell me about your crime-fighting. Your particular flavor of it." As he says that he goes back for seconds, swirling the bread in a bit.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Mostly I think global, act local," Dinah says between machine-efficient strip-pinch-chew-swallow routines. "I mean yes, I'm in the Justice League, but most of my work ... I don't know. I focus on the street. Regular folk. Not the cosmic stuff. I leave that to the Krypton Krowd. Rowdy gangs. Organized crime. The occasional costumed clown. That's more my usual gig."

She gestures at her throat while down the chew phase of one of her motions.

"I don't use this as often as people would guess. I don't have to most times. Muay thai is more than enough counterincentive for people to fuck with me in my gigs. And of course you can't just go out there dressed up and spoiling for a fight. I do a lot of investigation work. Sneaking around and listening. Research."

She shrugs her shoulders. "What can I say? It's a hobby. That takes up more of my life than my shop leaving me with precious little time for a social life."

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    The efforts that Alexander puts into consuming mass quantities aren't as enthusiastic, but he does seem to be enjoying himself. Occasionally she might see him get a taste he's not expecting and it does draw him aback, causes his eyebrows to rise, sometimes to give her a sidelong look. But he keeps on trucking.
    "I've known my share of the costume crowd." He confesses between bites. "I've met a lot of people with different motivations." His eyebrows lift as he gives thought to those folks who have passed through his life. "Some are doing it to try and make themselves better, some to find a better path for their lives." Then his brow beetles a touch and he says, "Some are just looking for an excuse to beat the shit out of people in a semi-legal way. Or at least socially acceptable."
    Another scoop and eat, then he leans to the side to reach some stew he hasn't had a chance to indulge in. "I don't really go in for all of that. Though..." He looks up and then back to her, "I've had a few adventures."
    A breath is taken deeply as he sets down a bit of bread, looking thoughtful after she mentions social life. "Though I thought you said you were seeing someone?"

Dinah Lance has posed:
"I am seeing someone. He's in the biz. That's how we can afford the time to see each other." Something in her expression indicates 'seeing' isn't the entire story... Or perhaps it was in the subtle shift of her posture. Or the brief, microscopic moment her pupils dilated before going back to normal. "I guess now the cat's out of the bag and in fishnets, I can say: he's a cop. A space cop. Lantern Corps."

The occasional askance looks he gives at some of the more unusual concoctions seem to cause her no end of amusement. "I was even nice!" she said after one such. "I didn't bring in the pickles. That'd have blown your mind clean out of your head."

She wasn't so nice on the spice levels though. Either that or Ethiopian food is just naturally tongue-burning.

"My reasoning ...?" That actually grinds her consumption to a halt. "I wish I could answer that. Why do I do it? Because I do it. I mean ... I was brought up in the scene. Mom was in fishnets before me. I'm following in her footsteps. Dad was a cop, then a detective. Mom was a crime fighter. All our friends were cops and crimefighters. All my "aunts" and "uncles" were in the costumed crowd. I grew up hearing the stories and being thrilled by them."

She shrugs.

"I just ... carried on family tradition, really. Mom didn't like it. But ... I had to. I had to be like these people I looked up to and loved and just wanted to join them. I studied hard. I worked hard. I trained hard. I hit the streets in an outfit based on Mom's. And ... it was a total and absolute fuck-up from beginning to end. The thieves got away. I got KOed and sported a swollen face for weeks. It was the most fun I'd ever had!"

She tilts her head, dog-like, as she regards Alexander. "Makes me a bit of a nutcase, doesn't it?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Two fingers lift a smidge apart as he tells her, "A bit of one. Yeah." Though that hardly seems the most damning thing in his eyes. He continues to push around some stew, picking up another chunk of meat and curling the bread around it as he can. A few moments chewing are taken then he says with a casual tone.
    "That's good though, in a way. If you said you hated it, but you did it for them, then I'd be all... yeah." No need to finish that sentence, not from poignance or weight of regard, more out of simple laziness on the youth's part. Or perhaps just his manner of speaking.
    Then his eyes unfocus for a little bit and it's clear his thoughts aren't entirely on the here and now, perhaps thinking about the year last and then he shakes his head. "I'm all paranoid about not following in my family's footsteps. But sometimes I find myself doing it even if I don't want to."
    Which might reveal a little too much so he takes a sip of liquor before he tries to distract by saying. "You realize way back when we were training I had a crush on you?" Since perhaps with her saying she's in a relationship it is thus safe to reveal and laugh off. "A tiny one." He holds up those fingers again, same distance apart. Craziness levels equal.

Dinah Lance has posed:
"Oh, everybody has a crush on me," Dinah laughs, drunkenness unleashing her ego even more. "It's the fishnets and the killer legs in them. I swear half the bad guys that come after me just want to know what it's like to have these babies locked around their neck until they pass out."

She holds aloft one of the conversation pieces as she says this, the too-tight jeans creaking in protest at the unnatural strains to which they're put. Lowering that leg she continues.

"But I presume you mean more than just haunting those sorts of dreams that involve you waking up slightly wet, right?" The blue eyes, although hazed and slightly unfocused from the impact of the alcohol, star into Alex's. "Yeah, I kinda picked up on it. Pretended not to notice. Back then you were in the 'can't know' camp."

Her face darkens like a storm cloud forming from a summoning of Ba'al: almost instantly.

"I was married once, you know. To someone outside the game. It didn't go well. He didn't understand that the mask isn't something I put on for shits and giggles. That he married Black Canary who pretends to be Dinah Laurel Lance, not the other way around. Controlling prick wanted me to hang up the mask and fishnets, but that wasn't going to happen."

The clouds clear, leaving skies overcast with a slight chance of a drizzle.

"After Craig ... I tried to steer clear of civilian relationships, you understand?"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    As the Canary brandishes one of her most deadly weapons, Alexander's eyes follow along with it, noting the subtle lines and contours of those jeans showing the strength hidden from view. Somehow piquing curiousity a little more than if they were in those fish nets. His eyes return to hers as she then makes her comment about his nocturnal activities and his answer back is a sour smirk as their gaze holds.
    The way Alexander has gone through his life, he's had much practice keeping his cards close to him, playing them grudgingly. Rare for him to show out and out attraction beyond the normal inclination of most men. He's seen sirens and dryads and goddesses and warrior queens, and managed to endure without any external sign of intrigue and desire.
    But in that moment he meets her eyes she can almost see the smoulder as he breathes in slowly through his nose, then exhales just as slowly, a smile growing at the end of that breath. It's there in the dilation of those irises, the slight flaring of nostrils, but there all the same.
    Then he navigates the conversation over safer land, as he murmurs, "I didn't know for sure you had been married. You made some comments. I never delved." He leans over and takes one of the last pieces of bread from this one box, though she still has plenty in the others. "And sort of insane to imagine someone knowing you well enough to marry you, but not well enough to see what makes you tick."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"The sex was good," Dinah says unabashedly. "I confused lust for love. It was wonderful for a while."

She has now the slight decency to look a little chagrinned. "I am what I am. He was hot. I wasn't thinking with the upstairs parts. And I was young and stupid. Mistakes got made. Then unmade. I mean the signs were there. I just ignored them because other signs made my blood rush and weakened my knees."

Her eyes stray to the bread and seemed unnaturally focused on tearing a strip off for her next morsel, this taking far longer than any previous one. Finally she looks up.

"I'm not the brightest candle in the pack, though I'm not stupid. I'm not the most disciplined candle in the pack either. I learn most of what I learn the hard way. Broken bones or broken heart." Then that million dollar smile hits again. "But I have loads of fun careering through life like a pinball on a table played by Tommy."

She settles down a bit as she pops the morsel in her mouth.

"But what about you? I mean I was joking about the Ethiopian co-eds ... but I can't believe a literal Greek God isn't gettin' any in college. Spill, sister!"

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    Squinting sidelong at the 'sister' comment, his eyes narrow a little as he admonishes her with silent judgement. /Admonish!/ But then he's taking his last bite of the bread and the stew, then gestures that the rest is hers with the universal sign of being done with foods by holding his hands up and shaking his head slightly.
    Of course then she asks him about /his/ history and his nose crinkles. "I've dated, well... friends with benefits seems to be my standard life for the most part." Though he doesn't elaborate on the why, though it might be extrapolated when he adds a little more to the tale.
    "I tried dating seriously once, met an older woman. I mean not like super old, like... 24." So old. He reaches for the bottle and tilts it over on its side, letting the caramel liquor gurgle into his shot glass. "It was kind of stupid of me. I tried to be what I thought I /should/ be, you know? Sublimation of self to try and fit into the... ideal?"
    He takes a sip from the glass, then downs it with a click upon the table. "Sometimes I have a hard time relating to people, or understanding them. She had... goals in life. And I thought I was helping her reach them. But..."
    The Olympian youth shakes his head, "She left, and I spent a good bit of time trying to figure out what I did wrong. But eventually I think I just figured there's no real answer to that."
    Finally he looks back at her, those curious green and blue eyes that marry the colors in such an intimate swirl so deep in the irises, he smiles a touch. "So yeah, that's me right now."

Dinah Lance has posed:
"The answer is always 'she sucks' or 'he sucks' if you're healthy. Or a narcissist, I guess. And it's 'I suck' if you're troubled." She taps her head. "I'm blonde. I'm not the brightest candle in the pack. But I'm not stupid. I always know what I did wrong or what he did wrong when I have one of my romantic disasters. What I don't have is the wisdom not to repeat those mistakes."

She gestures Alexander's way and accidentally strikes him, having badly misjudged the distance. "You, your mistake was simple: you tried to change yourself to what you thought she wanted. When she probably wanted you. Or you got into a relationship for the right reason--lust--but didn't recognize that and confused it for love. That happens more often than you think."

Her face goes into a dreamy smile. "Way more often." Snap back to reality.

"But honestly, I'd not recommend talking to me about how to make a relationship go well. Come to me for advice on how to fuck one up. or get into bad ones. I'm the champeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen of the wooooooooooooooooooorld!"

She's making light of it, but her eyes aren't grinning goofily like her face. They're ... one could even perhaps say 'wounded'.

Alexander Aaron has posed:
    She gives him that /bop/ in the shoulder as she gestures and he pantomimes a silent 'owww' as if she struck with such viciousness. Though it's a lazily offered attempt at humor, clearly more inclined to listen to her as she explains the World According to Dinah. Which, as she progresses through her insight has him half-smiling the while.
    "You do realize we're both blond, stop hogging all the stereotypes for us." Them blond folks need to stick together.
    But, to be fair, his is a little more platinum in some ways.
    "But yeah, I think we got involved in a sort of rollercoaster... love/lust thing. I guess." His head tilts away for a moment, not mentioning how he met that particular person, instead just looking back to her and half-smirking once again.
    "I'm sure there are people way worse at relationships than you." Such support. "Henry the VIIIth?" His own making light mirrors her own though he doesn't miss that look in her eyes.
    "Do you remember Master Oyama's brother-in-law? The tall guy with that super thin mustache?" She might well, then again she might not. And if there's puzzlement he'll add with only a hint of a slur to his words, perhaps lazy speaking or perhaps the liquor is taking a little toll on him. "Doesn't matter, he told me when one of the brown belts were grousing about relationships. Told him... every relationship you have is going to end until you find the one that doesn't. And if you look at it like that, I mean sure. They're all going to end, or not be the one, right?"
    He leans forward and rests a hand on hers, the one that bopped him. "So all of us ultimately are going to have a lousy win loss ratio. Until we win that one."