❝ But Sicilians don't go to therapy and figure that out.

[crossbearing]

Date & Time: August! (maybe some September later idk)
Location: every location
Characters: Helena, Renee, Barbara, Dinah, Jaime, Steph and I swear to God she will go be Helena at non-DC people, too. (closed-ish, let me know if you'd like to do something with her and I can toss a prompt in here!)
Summary: Helena Doing Things At Different Times.
Warnings: Comics, let's be real. Possible rage, angst, violence and then even more feelings or reference to any of these things.

( HAHA no the starters are in the comments, I just wanted to do cut text for fun. Feel free to go with prose or action spam and I'll match it! )

Comments

in that case I shall treasure it always

[crossbearing]

That's like asking if there's a difference between a lamborghini and it-- ( Wait, she throws him a look. ) You do know lamborghinis, right?

( Teasing, mostly. She's pretty sure anyone would know a lamborghini is hardly your run of the mill car. And so what if she's being excessive with the comparison? It's just how she do.

And a little grin, a wave of her hand as he talks to the Scarab, don't worry about it. )

All right. How about you take care of the oven, and I'll fix a couple more of these cabinets. ( So she doesn't get in the way. Still, she's crouching down at a cabinet near by. ) Do you two need access to the tool kit or do you have it covered?

( With the weird... beetleness. )

wonderful

[khajidont]

Did you just compare an oven to a lamborghini? Seriously?

[Because seriously, that's terrible. That's like a crime against sweet cars.]

Pretty sure we can handle it as-is.

[As long as she doesn't mind seeing his hands morph into weird shapes in her peripheral vision, which he assumes she doesn't.]

[crossbearing]

Hey. ( A look. ) What are you saying about my cooking?

( Tread cautiously, sir. She doesn't have her car here, so all her stress relief has to go into her motorcycle, vigilante violence, and cooking. The oven is super important, okay. )

All right. ( Excuse her as she destroys a rotten shelf and grabs the wood to put a new one in. Violence and renovation, a life. )

[khajidont]

Hey, we're talking appliances, not cooking. And cars.

[Which he's never going to learn to drive here, he thinks a little mournfully. Sure, he can fly, but that's not the same.

(One of these days, he's going to badger Peacemaker into letting him drive his bike. One of these days.)

That aside, he allows the black armour to rise out of his fingers, and his fingertips on his right hand soon morph into the tools he needs. He's comfortable sprawled poking around in the oven, quietly murmuring to himself every now and again for clarification. It's peaceful, the hacking of rotten wood aside.]