When they had met, Zinda had sweet talked a bar tender into letting her bring in her own bottle of champagne to "celebrate" being the last of the Blackhawks. It hadn't been difficult to tell that the other woman was nursing her own wounds, and they weren't the kind that healed easily.
For most of the day, Dinah hadn't bothered Zinda, knowing full well how she (in a mannerism that was clearly one few traits that were shared between all three members of the Birds of Prey) liked to do her thinking/brooding alone-- but Dinah also knew that (like the rest of the BOP) friends didn't let friends wallow for too long.
The Blackhawks had been Zinda's friends-- her family-- for a long time, and they always would be her family; but she had another family now too, and like the old family, they weren't going to let her drink alone either.
Dinah walked into Warriors and sat down on the bar stool next to Zinda without a word and ordered them a whole bottle of whiskey. She poured a shot for herself and one for Zinda, pushing it over to her.
"Tell me again about the time Blackhawk punched Hitler. I like that story." She said quietly, downing her shot.