"Knock, knock," Amaya says teasingly as the doors to Zari's room slide open. She's holding a bag of popcorn, clad in her usual t-shirt and shorts, but there's no response from within so she steps inside, and that's when she sees Zari.

She's standing on a prayer mat in her pyjamas, her hair covered by a headscarf, facing the direction of Mecca. Her hands are folded at chest level, and Amaya notes Zari doesn't look up when Amaya comes into her room.

No - her eyes are focused right in front of her, and Amaya considers, briefly, if she should cross over to sit on Zari's bed - but then, she thinks, she'll be stepping in front of her, and that's probably not the best thing to do. So she stays where she is, watching, as Zari bows, and it's then that Amaya realises Zari is murmuring under her breath. She guesses it's Arabic, even though it's unintelligible to her ears.

Then Zari prostrates, then sits up, then prostrates again, and once she's in a sitting position Amaya wonders if Zari is finished. But her brow is still furrowed in concentration, so Amaya doesn't move, not until Zari turns her head to her right, and then her left.

It's only then that Zari looks up at Amaya. "Hey," she says.

"So, uh, I take it that was you actually praying this time," Amaya says with a smile.

"Yeah, the hijab is kind of a dead giveaway, you know," says Zari dryly. "Give me a minute, okay?"

Amaya nods, and Zari lifts her palms close to her face, soft words spilling from her lips that Amaya can't quite make out, and about thirty seconds pass before Zari says "Ameen" and presses her hands to her cheeks.

"Sorry, I know it's probably a bit weird," Zari says as she gets to her feet, pulling off her scarf and folding her prayer mat.

Amaya raises her eyebrows. "We're on a time ship and can both channel magic. I think prayer is a healthy thing, if anything. And anyway," she adds, "I should be the one apologising. I didn't mean to interrupt."

Zari shakes her head, setting her scarf and mat down on the end of her bed and taking a seat, patting the space on the bed next to her. "Sit down. Hey, no, you told me we were gonna watch Gone with the Wind. I just wanted to get in Isha before we watched."

She sits, letting her legs hang off the edge of the bed. "Isha?"

"Yeah, it's the last prayer of the day," Zari explains.

"How many prayers are there in the day?" Amaya asks, and then she kicks herself. "Sorry, I didn't mean to ask so many questions -"

But to her surprise Zari waves her away. "Okay, new rule," she says. "If you wanna be BFFs, you don't have to apologise for every little thing you do. Especially because..."

There's silence for a moment. "Because what?"

Gesturing at the door, Zari shrugs and says, "Because I can tell that you're - not like the rest of them."

"We're the legends of tomorrow," Amaya says.

"Losers of tomorrow, more like," Zari says, and Amaya laughs. "And then there's you."

"I joined the legends last, if that's what you mean. And it was - not without reluctance."

"And then you left. Because of, uh, destiny, or something."

Amaya nods. "I did. And then Sara asked me to come back."

"And you couldn't exactly turn down that face, could you?" Zari says, and it takes a moment for Amaya to realise she's teasing her. When she does she smiles.

"Something like that."

"In answer to your question," Zari says, taking the bag of popcorn from Amaya and opening it, "there are five prayers in the day. It's kinda hard to decide when to pray, though, when I'm in the time stream, because it's dependent on where the sun is during the day."

"So what do you do?" Amaya asks curiously.

"I have the timings I used in 2042. Figured I should just use the calendar from the last time I was on, you know, earth."

"It's amazing that you find the time to do all five."

"Sometimes I don't. Say if we're on a mission, or something. Or if we're in danger. Or if I forget - I sleep in a lot. But I always try and make them up after."

And it's then that it strikes Amaya how much faith is clearly in Zari's heart, and unexpectedly it tugs at Amaya's heartstrings as she gazes at Zari in wonder.

Zari half-chuckles. "What?"

"Nothing. Just - all my time dealing with the mystical, with the impossible, I've always believed, but I've never really done anything about it. But you - I saw you. Praying. Just now. And you seemed… so at peace."

"I mean, it's not that simple," Zari says. "You know, you're meant to do a supplication at the end of every prayer - a personal prayer to God thanking Him or asking Him to forgive you. But for the longest time I just rushed my prayers, did it because I felt I had to, and I would skip the bit at the end."

"Why?"

"Because of what happened to my brother. To my family. I felt like… if I talked to God I would end up being angry at Him. Even though it was my fault."

"I'm sure that's not true," Amaya reasons, but Zari shakes her head.

"But, uh, since, I've found it's my way to atone. To pay my penance, I guess. And since I felt my brother's presence when using the totem, I suppose, yeah, I have been at peace."

"I'm glad," says Amaya softly.

"Me too," Zari says. "Even if it probably won't last. But I also don't think you should get the wrong idea here, Amaya."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what."

And suddenly Amaya is terrified - because she has tried hard, so hard, to keep her feelings in check, and her pulse rockets at the thought of Zari knowing, when she barely knows herself what is going on between the two of them.

"Is it that obvious?" Amaya says faintly, and she's unable to look Zari in the eye.

"From the look on your face, yeah," says Zari. And the words "I can explain" are on Amaya's tongue when Zari continues, "You think I'm some kind of saint just because I put my feet in the sink five times a day. But I told you - it's not that simple."

Closing her eyes, Amaya tries not to show her relief as she looks up - but she's never been the most subtle person, and she can feel her shoulders sagging anyway. Zari just looks at her weirdly, though, and Amaya tries to return to normalcy. "Why would you put your feet in the sink?"

"For ablution before the prayer - but that's not the point. The point is that - you've probably seen my rap sheet."

"I recall seeing several larceny and robbery charges, yes," Amaya says. "So? You seem to forget that Mick Rory is a good friend of mine, and with all due respect, his rap sheet is far worse than yours."

For a second Amaya's convinced Zari looks a little offended at the comparison, and that only makes Amaya smile. "Yeah, but I'm not - I'm not who you think I am. You - for some reason you seem to have a really good impression of me, and I'm flattered, honestly, but that's not who I am."

"You're a hacktivist who wanted to make the world a better place even before you got onto the Waverider," says Amaya firmly. "Your faith -"

"My faith says I have to follow the laws of the land," Zari tells her. "It says I shouldn't steal or lie. That I should take care of my family."

"So you've made mistakes. We all have."

Zari raises her eyebrows. "Oh yeah? What's yours? You know, aside from getting with the steel guy, I mean."

"His name is Nathaniel," Amaya says, trying not to laugh. "But I think I'm the only one who calls him that."

"I can't imagine why," Zari says and her voice is dripping with sarcasm and laughter. "So, go on. What's your mistake?"

Amaya grimaces, letting her slippers fall off her feet so she can hug her knees. In her mind's eye she can see the Belgian soldiers surrounding her in Zambesi. She scrunches her eyes shut, trying her hardest to rid her mind of that sight. "In all your - heists, did you ever kill anyone?"

Zari has to think about that for a second. "I'm pretty sure I put a couple of handsy guards in the hospital, but no kills that I know of, anyway. Why, did you -?"

And then as Amaya meets Zari's eyes it all becomes too much. Zari is expectant, waiting, not judgemental, just curious, and Amaya can't stop herself abruptly getting to her feet and turning her back on Zari.

"You know what? I - enjoy the popcorn, Zari. I'm sorry, I have to go."

Amaya's surprised, therefore, when she feels a warm hand on her shoulder, and she deeply regrets wearing a top with such thin straps. "Hey, if you don't want to tell me, you don't have to."

"I appreciate that," Amaya says, and it takes every ounce of effort she has to step away from Zari. "But I don't think I'm in the mood for a movie anymore. Maybe some other time."

And before Zari can object further, Amaya leaves, wishing that the screams of those slain soldiers would leave her head forever.