John smiled at that, though the photo disturbed him vaguely. He couldn't remember when it had been taken, but had a feeling he should have, and he wondered why Zatanna kept this one on display. He was sure she had other, friendlier shots of him tucked away somewhere. Then again, even in those days she'd seen through him better than most.
"Yeah, me too," he said wryly. "Just between you and me, he was a bit of a arse. You wouldn't have liked him."
He walked over to the old top hat and stood looking at it for a moment, silently paying his respects. Giovanni Zatara--who was an intelligent man as well as a powerful sorcerer--had never much liked him, in the tradition of all fathers whose daughters kept company with scoundrels and ne'er-do-wells, but they'd shared a certain grudging professional respect despite John's long-standing disdain for the practice of hiding in plain sight behind an illusionist's facade. And he had been partly responsible for the man's death. He still wasn't sure why Zatanna had forgiven him for that.
Or, for that matter, why she always insisted on putting his luggage in her room when he visited. It wasn't as though he needed the reminder, he knew the invitation was still open. Though if he turned it down as usual, he'd be stuck on the couch this time. It bore considering.
"You're in the guest room. Second door on the left down that hall," he added, nodding in that direction. "Do yourself a favor and miracle a new mattress."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2006-11-03 05:13 am (UTC)"Yeah, me too," he said wryly. "Just between you and me, he was a bit of a arse. You wouldn't have liked him."
He walked over to the old top hat and stood looking at it for a moment, silently paying his respects. Giovanni Zatara--who was an intelligent man as well as a powerful sorcerer--had never much liked him, in the tradition of all fathers whose daughters kept company with scoundrels and ne'er-do-wells, but they'd shared a certain grudging professional respect despite John's long-standing disdain for the practice of hiding in plain sight behind an illusionist's facade. And he had been partly responsible for the man's death. He still wasn't sure why Zatanna had forgiven him for that.
Or, for that matter, why she always insisted on putting his luggage in her room when he visited. It wasn't as though he needed the reminder, he knew the invitation was still open. Though if he turned it down as usual, he'd be stuck on the couch this time. It bore considering.
"You're in the guest room. Second door on the left down that hall," he added, nodding in that direction. "Do yourself a favor and miracle a new mattress."