Location: DC Universe... 'Bird' AU.
Rated: G ( Also S for Silly)
PS: Standard Disclaimer. I do not now, and have never, owned any of these characters. DC does. Lucky stiffs.
^^V^^ ^BC^ ^^V^^ ^BC^ ^^V^^ ^BC^
Dinah Lance lay on the bed and snarled at the telephone.
"Read my contract, Barbara."
"Look... Dinah.." A voice of infinite all-be-it strained patience answered from the other end of the line.
"Did I or did I not have a 'date' for last night, which was also Friday night?"
"Did you or did you not call me away from said date?"
"Did or did not I answer said call, standing up said Maxwell Powers, thus directly resulting in my *not* having a date tonight?"
"So? You play, you pay."
"You owe me, Barb. I am *not* one of your Gotham nut-cases, I do *not* have Mr. Chippendales-in-Blue dropping through *my* window, and I do *not* want to spend Saturday night playing Battle-Hamster. I want a date. You have two hours to find me one.
The *snaccck* of plastic echoed as the blond adventuress slammed down the handset. Damn. And her hair was clean. She couldn't even pretend she was staying home to wash it.
*brrring* A slightly chipped phone rang on the nightstand.
"Dinah? A familiar voice came diffidently over the line.
"Barb? What?" This time the question had an edge to it.
"About tonight. What if..?"
"Forget it." Dinah dropped back on the bed. "I am *not* spending my weekend playing bash-the-mugger with Cassandra Cain or the Bird-Boy or any of the rest of the local flying rodents." She plumped a pillow and leaned against the headboard. " I have been dragged through a jungle, dropped off a cliff, and damn-near nuked . I have been on duty twenty-four seven for three weeks solid. This is my first weekend off in a month. I am damn well going to play."
"OK. OK. I get you." A moments static took the line and then. "Listen. How do you feel about arm candy?"
The blond vigilante laughed. "Always wanted some."
An answer which brought an echoing chuckle from the other end. "No, I mean being."
"Bodyguard duty?" The humor vanished. "Oracle..."
"No. I promise. Look.." The hum of a second link beeped, then faded. "How would you like to go to the Gotham Charity Ball?"
Dinah Lance sat up. "Fancy clothes? Good food? Rich, handsome men?" She grinned. "Sure Barb. What's not to like?"
"Good." A flurry of clicks and hums sounded from the far end of the line. "I'm sending a dress. Be ready in one hour. You're going there tonight with a Mr. Bruce Wayne."