Normal was kind of a glitch for everyone Felicity knew. It was like finding Neverland or something, you grew out of thinking you could get there. Flash? Flash was like apple pie, practically as normal as you got in with a clone and a spider and a time-traveller and a girl for whom luck wasn't a trip to Vegas. She was familiar with the lab now. It still smelled gross, like chlorine and chemicals and warm plastic and the combination ran unpleasant fingers up the back of her spine but this wasn't her own personal shit-show. This? This wasn't melt-down the way she knew how to fix, a three am phone call from a bar somewhere tiny and gross and sticky as she tried to drag someone half a foot taller into a cab.
But the same fix. She had tequila swinging in her fingertips, painted berry-red and she wore soft gray over a skirt that owed more to the short and shiny side of her wardrobe and that over thick berry tights that was the concession to practical. It wasn't the suit, it wasn't even the suit precursor to Aegis taking her schtick and playing with it until black and tight got new toys and gadgets. But it was armor and she was a tiny bit bruised. But the comic-book made this whole set up kind of pathetic, and she grinned blithely at the greeting as if armor didn't come in cashmere.
The alien she was starting to appreciate and she trailed two fingertips in the water to say hello without actually touching it. "He looks pretty okay to me. But what do I know?"