Dinner with Huntress (continued)

“So what is the deal with you and Diana anyway?” Huntress asks after the waiter has dropped off your entrees. She says it casually but she’s watching you like a hawk to see how you react.

“Honestly I’m not sure myself. Awhile back I was in the right place at the right time to help her out with something. I asked her out, she said yes.” You shrug and take a sip of wine, looking faintly embarrassed. “I thought things were going okay. But now she’s fixing me up with other women, so I guess it’s fair to say we may not be on the same page there.”

She manages to sneer sympathetically, which is not as easy as it sounds. “I wouldn’t take it personally. I’m not sure she really does the whole relationship thing.”

“Yeah, that fits. Eh, no regrets.”

The food comes and is every bit as good as you expected. ‘Rosa' seems to enjoy it, tho she does refer to it somewhat derogatorily as 'Northern Italian.’

"I take it you’re from Southern Italy?" you say with a chuckle.

"I thought you didn’t care who I am?" she says with a teasing grin.

"Ha! I withdraw the question!” Easy to not care when you already know everything.

In between bites, you ask her some fairly basic questions about likes/dislikes, books and movies, the usual. You’re careful to avoid anything that seems like you're fishing for information to identify her. She remains guarded and most of her answers are fairly short. But she seems like she’s enjoying herself, and you get the sense that’s not something she lets herself do very often.

As you’re splitting a tiramisu for dessert, she suddenly asks, “So how’d I wind up as the consolation prize, anyway?” She tries to say it lightly and even adds a small chuckle, but it’s obviously not an offhand question for her.

You set down your fork and look at her face, waiting until she meets your gaze. She’s got her best Tough Girl Nothing Bothers Me mask on, but there’s sadness behind her eyes. “Is that what you think you are? A consolation prize?”

She looks away and gives a shrug that utterly fails to be casual. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a surprisingly nice time tonight. But I know the deal. You couldn’t get Diana’s costume off, so she sets you up with the heroine voted Most Likely To.” She tries to cover by reaching for her wineglass, but there’s no mistaking the bitterness in her voice.

You sit back in your chair. “Wow. That’s…I mean, some detective you’re not.” She eyes you dubiously. “Look, Wond…” you look around, “Diana is amazing. Right? I mean she’s… she’s perfect, she’s literally a goddess. But she’s not…” you pause as if you haven’t rehearsed this speech a dozen times and are legit searching for the right word. “I don’t want to say she’s not human, that sounds awful. But she’s not…”

“Normal?” the lady across from you suggests.

You wave dismissively. “Eh, normal’s overrated. But she’s not…real? I mean obviously she exists, but she’s like this mythological figure. Not someone who lives on Earth and has to worry about taxes and eating healthy and stubbing their toe on the coffee table. Like, the girl has an argument with Zeus at breakfast and I’m supposed to relate to that? And she’s supposed to relate to, what? my car needs a new muffler?”

Rosa/Helena nods her head thoughtfully. “I can see that. A lot of guys would be perfectly happy with that fantasy.”

“A lot of guys are morons.” She bobs her head to the side, acknowledging the point. “I’d rather have something genuine.” You sip your wine while she ponders that for a moment. “And I may have let slip that I had a little crush on you.”

Her eyebrows go up. “On me. Specifically.” Skeptical heroine is skeptical.

“Is that really so surprising?” Her face says she thinks it is. “I mean set aside for the moment the way you look…” you put as much appreciation into that word as possible, “you’re a total badass! You don’t have superpowers but you’re still out there fighting for the little guy, not rocketing through space to wherever. You’re not afraid to get your hands dirty, you use a freaking crossbow which is cool AF, and you’re not part of the whole Bat-Cult, no offense intended.” She nearly chokes on her wine at that. “And did I mention, oh yeah, the way you look?”

“You alluded to it earlier,” she says, not displeased. There’s a different look in her eyes, more open than you’d yet seen, and her shoulders finally look relaxed.

“Besides,” you say, raising your own wine glass. “Who says I didn’t get her costume off?”

She leans forward, genuinely interested now. “OK I have to her that story!”

You polish off the wine. “I gotta save something for the second date.”

She leans back and studies your face. “Fair enough,” she says with a nod.