Naming names, part 2

“Let’s see…Gypsy? I’ve honestly never heard of her but I’m sure someone cares. What are we bid?”

“A date,” Wonder Woman says firmly, “I agree to have dinner with you, in public, at a restaurant of your choosing. I’ll even pay,” the last sentence is heavy with sarcasm, but you’ll take it.

“As Diana or as Wonder Woman?”

She gives a lopsided grin, “That’s up to you. Going on a date in my work clothes can be problematic; it tends to attract a great deal of attention, not all of it good. But it’s your choice.”

“Understood. Do I get a good night kiss?” you ask playfully?

“If you play your cards right,” she responds in a tone that makes it clear Hell will freeze over first.

“I’ll take it,” and you write that down. “Speaking of D-listers: Tarantula. What’s her safety worth to you?”

A look of distaste crosses the heroine’s face, “A Big Belly Burger?” She immediately looks embarrassed by her response.

“Not a fan?” you laugh.

“I am not.” She puts her professional face back on, “Nonetheless. Let’s see, the Themysciran Cultural Museum has…”

“Pass. Tho I wouldn’t say no to visiting the island itself?”

“No man may set foot on Themyscira by order of the gods,” she says as if that’s a physical law.

“How very segregationist of them.”

“Perhaps a tour of Atlantis? I can probably arrange dinner with the King and Queen.”

It’s your turn to look vaguely disgusted, “No thank you! The thought of being under all that water wigs me out.”

“Feel free to offer your own suggestions?” she says testily.

“Don’t mind if I do. Since she’s not someone you care much about, we’ll keep it simple. You will dance for me. Something powerful and passionate and sexy. At least 5-10 minutes long, to music of your own choice.”

“I suppose that’s acceptable.”

“And if you feel like turning it into a striptease…”

“Sold separately,” she states simply.

“Fine, be that way. Next up is Orphan, aka Batgirl, aka Black Bat, aka geez pick a name already!"

“I will thoroughly clean your home for you,” she says with an ironic smile.

“Ha, you think that’s a lowball offer but you haven’t seen my place.”

“If the detestable Hercules could clean out the Augean Stables, I can handle whatever dank pit you live in. I assume you’ll want me to wear a skimpy maid costume or something equally juvenile?”

“Nah, your regular costume is plenty skimpy enough. Tho if you want to take it off so it doesn’t get dirty…”

“Sold. Separately,” she cuts you off again.

“All right let’s sell it separately then. For…Doctor Light.”

“Very well…” she begins. She’s going to injure her eyes if she keeps rolling them like that.

“When you come over to clean my place, you will dance a striptease for me, 10-15 minutes long, to songs I choose, ending with you completely naked. You will then stay naked while cleaning the house until I say it’s clean.”

“Very. Well,” she repeats.

You glance up from the list, “Huh, since when is The Question a chick?”

“Since the previous Question died some years ago,” she says as if it’s the most normal thing ever.

“Whatever. Did you ever go skinny-dipping back on your all girls island?”

“Of course.”

“OK then, for Renee Montoya’s sake, we’re going to find a nice quiet isolated lake somewhere and go swimming in the buff.”

“Acceptable,” she consents with a sigh that sounds almost bored.