Barbara | Crichton
"Gets worse every year, or so I hear." She agreed - she wasn't looking forward to that, milestones like 30 looming ever closer with each passing year. And what did she have to show for it? She'd dropped out of grad school, she didn't have a real job, she'd stopped talking to her family, it was all a mess really. And she didn't think getting older was going to help any of that.
She couldn't help the face she made when he told her he'd used a slug to brush his teeth, "You are not serious." She could not even begin to believe that - it was too gross. "Even worse than it sounds I bet."
"My universe?" She wasn't sure he wanted to hear about it - not really. "It's pretty normal, well I guess comparatively? It's hard to know what counts as normal when you're up against the multiverse." Because her normal was someone else's mind trip. "Well like the magic stuff I was talking about. We end up with a lot of masked bad guys where I'm from, in Gotham. They show up every so often, ready to try and destroy a train or steal some new tech, or you know just cause a little chaos - they've all got crazy costumes and weapons and things that go along with their theme."
"Like Penguin, he has ice guns, uses them to help and make the world around him a little more icy the way you might think a Penguin would like. He lives runs an ice theme'd club on the bad side of town." She told him.