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It was a 7-11 like every other 7-11 off the interstate at two in the morning. Deadshot leaned against the rack of soft porn, arms folded, and watched Scandal methodically dump packet after packet of sugar into her coffee. She had pulled an oversize Army jacket on over her costume top, and it made her look like a little kid playing dress-up.
When it came right down to it, she really wasn't any good at passing herself off as something she wasn't. Must be the genes. When you went with the last name "Savage," you really weren't trying to be subtle.
"Don't forget Ragdoll's Slurpee," he said. "I don't want to listen to that freak whining all the way to Toledo."
"We're in Iowa," she said.
"Toledo's not in Iowa?"
She snorted. "You get it. I don't want to smell Electric Grape mixed with Blue Raspberry."
"Fine." He grabbed a cup and began randomly poking at buttons on the machine, watching various brightly-colored glops drop from the spouts. Not like the weirdo would know the difference.
"So," she said. "Do you think Catman's going to jump the fence on us?"
"I think that's fizzled out."
Poor bastard. He was out mooning around in the parking lot even as they spoke. If you were going to get all sulky about a girl, you could at least do it over a beer or three.
"Good. Can't you introduce him to some nice girls who don't want to kill us?"
"I would if I knew any, sister."
"Heh." She half-laughed again, then hastily tamped it down, and that was too much.
"Just for the record," he said, finishing off the cup with some Banana Blast, "I'm the only one on the team who's not a total fucking idiot."
She frowned, snapping the lid onto her coffee. "What do you mean?"
"The card."
"What are you talking—"
"Don't," he said. "Seriously, don't."
She tilted her head and looked at him warily. "You really want to do this in here?"
He took two slow steps back, keeping a death grip on the Slurpee. "I don't want to do anything, Scandal. Except remind you that I got shot at, beaten up, and generally supernaturally swirlied to prevent you idiots from getting killed over that thing, so when you use it—"
"I can't use it if I don't have it—"
"When you use it, be smart about it, okay?"
She looked down at her coffee, her mouth drooping. "About her—I haven't been very smart."
"Yeah. My ribs remember. But there's a first time for everything, kid."
At that, she grinned a little. "Like Bane telling me a bedtime story?"
He groaned. "I was trying to forget that."
She got poker-faced again. "Okay. You've made your point. Let's go."
He eyed the pimply-faced cashier. "We going to pay?"
"I'm avoiding mortal sins for a while," she said.
He laughed, but reached for his wallet. "Good luck with that."