[b][/b][b][/b][b][/b][b][/b][center][h1][b][COLOR=92278f]B A T G I R L[/COLOR][/b][/h1][/center][COLOR=92278f][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]MARV'S PIZZA[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/color][INDENT][INDENT][sup][color=darkgray]Now  |  Midtown, Manhattan, New York City[/color][/sup][/INDENT][/INDENT]

Even before the explosion rattled the tiny pizza joint, Babs knew from the way Wally’s expression flashed from cautiously amused to vaguely alarmed confusion something bad was going to happen. But Wally was Wally, so even seeing his reaction didn’t give her much time to prep hers. 

Fortunately, she’d never needed much. 

Her ears were still ringing when Wally disappeared, though she could guess what he’d said. Barbara rolled her eyes and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. [color=92278f][b]“Show off,”[/b][/color] she muttered to herself before turning again to puzzle over the remainder of her friends. Well. Friend, plus a new guest she was going to assume was more indestructible than he looked. Most of her friends were.

[color=92278f][b]“You good, kid?”[/b][/color] she said. [color=92278f][b]"What - ?"[/b][/color] And then he was gone, and giving her a [i]distinctly[/i] amphibian vibe at that. So, okay. She could hope he could take care of himself. And she [i]knew[/i] Donna could. That just left - 

Something else intruded on her senses, already going half a dozen miles a minute as she maneuvered herself away from their table and onto a counter stop sticky with beer.

Gas.

Her eyes darted to the kitchen. The brassy doors were still swinging on their hinges, but she’d caught a glimpse or two every time a server had walked out in the last thirty minutes, and it was enough she could have redecorated the kitchen from a snapshot if she'd wanted to. 

A six-range stove, three grates burning. Two towering pizza ovens on the opposite wall, shouldering the gas line running along the backside of the building, nearest the explosion. And the steady flow of civvies seeking a safe harbor that was maybe minutes from inferno.

Barbara dropped gracefully back to the floor, just avoiding a screaming toddler as she did. Grimacing, she grabbed the kid, shoved him back into the waiting arms of the woman she'd seen feeding him when they'd walked in, and made a beeline for her table again. 

[color=92278f][b]"D,"[/b][/color] she said tonelessly. [color=92278f][b]"Could use a hand real quick, if we can get these tables up against those windows before - "[/b][/color]

Whatever else she might have said was cut off by another voice, and while Babs was more than used to being talked over at the proverbial dinner table, it usually wasn't [i]quite[/i] so intimate.

A flicker of something that wasn't smug amusement or indifference flickered across her face - a flash of something genuine and just a little ugly. It was gone as soon as it had come.

[i]Oh, for fuck's - [color=92278f][b]Yeah, hey, kiddo. Cute party trick, but this headspace is strictly PG13, cool? Or is intellectual property not so much a thing where you're from?[/b][/color] [/i]

And with that, she shut him out hard. Or tried to, anyway, shifting focus again to split her attention between the increasingly panicked diners and the unabridged drone of Nickelback's full discography. She worked better on her own, anyway.