Re: Gotham log: Bruce W & Zatanna Z
[Gotham was made of stories. It was made of cruel whispers in the corridors of the city, the back-alleys, the streets. It was made of tales, of men who were not men, men who came liquid in the night as if they were cut from the shadows. Bruce's smile, ah - that she remembered, even if it was a little older, a little more creased and a little more tired than the last time.]
My father was no ordinary magician [She repeated it solemnly, wide blue eyes and still mouth that trembled only a little with an unvoiced peal of laughter. Her father had been many things, but ordinary did not list itself amongst them.
She sat back, palms on her knees and the picture of demure goodwill.] Magic, of course.