Harrah's
Penthouse
2 PM

"Ecurb Raeppa." Bruce was wearing the same clothes as the night before. Nice touch. Zatanna was still in the jeans and t-shirt she had been wearing since she got up.

"What's the story for this? We show up together or separate?" She wasn't doing a great job at hiding the lack of enthusiasm in her voice, but he didn't seem to notice...or care.

"Together. Gives us the option of working as a couple without drawing too much attention or splitting up if we need to. Can you give me a change of clothes once we get in the car? I left my luggage on the jet."

"Vegas tourist or high roller?" She very much wanted to put him in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts.

He cast her an un-amused glare. "Get ready."

Oh, yay. Batman is here.

"Mra ydnac yhport etad." She hoped he was deciphering.

The light engulfed her and the t-shirt and jeans changed to a long red, skin-tight, deep-plunging evening gown with too-high heels. Her hair flowed down her back and her makeup was just thick enough to make her look a couple years older than the 21 she was. He nodded once in approval, eyes not quite meeting hers. This really wasn't how she wanted to spend her day off. She was grumpy after a restless night alone and being unable to leave her room all day. He was grumpy because it seemed to be his default mood.

"Let's go." He offered his arm and opened the door. Time to act, Zee.

Every eye tracked them as they crossed the casino and headed to the waiting limousine...the ridiculously over-the-top unnecessary limousine, considering he probably could have spit on the front of Caesar's from Harrah's. He could sure play the part. At least she wouldn't have to walk too much in the absurd shoes she had conjured.

Maybe she could find a way to enjoy this after all, she thought, slipping into the comfortable seat of the car. He settled in next to her...after over-tipping the valet, of course. $100 for opening a car door. Helluva a gig.

"Caesar's, please. Front entrance." She half expected him to tip the driver just for listening to what he was saying. Bruce rolled the privacy window up as they pulled out.

"Front entrance, huh? Guess we aren't doing a stealthy stakeout."

"My clothes?"

"Oh, shit. I almost forgot." She held her hands out toward him. "Hcir yobyalp tiftuo."

He narrowed his eyes at the backward jab toward his alter ego. Alter-alter ego, maybe. How many parts does he play? At this point she didn't know who "Bruce Wayne" even was.

She looked him over, proud of her effort to make him look like the kind of man any casino owner would love to see strolling up to the tables. Head-to-toe Desmond Merrion. She would have to remember to return it to the warehouse when the day was over. Her eyes were having a hard time looking away from him. The three-piece suit fit him perfectly and accentuated his muscled frame.

There's that damn brain fog again.

She suddenly noticed that he caught her staring and was now looking intently into her eyes.

"How was your night?" He asked, seeming genuinely curious. Has the game already started again?

"Boring. I had big plans that were ruined by a little side project I work on sometimes." She knew calling his life's work a "little side project" would rub him wrong in just the right way. His jaw tightened.

"That's too bad," the mumbled words were just audible over the hum of the engine as he turned his head to look out the window. Trying to read his mood was making her head hurt.

The car pulled to a stop at the grand entrance of Caesar's Palace. Everyone within a ten block radius turned to look as they got out, and Bruce's face changed like someone had flipped a switch.

Playboy mode activated.

He took her hand and helped her out of the car. She caught him staring at her leg as the slit on her dress that ran up her thigh and almost to her hip fell open.

"You're going to draw a lot of attention." He whispered in her ear.

"Good or bad?" She asked, wondering if she had overdone it.

"Just the right kind," his cocky grin grated on her already-irritated nerves. She wasn't a huge fan of the playboy act.

She sighed loud enough for him to hear, then lowered her voice to match his whisper. "Are you going to give me a way to track this guy or am I just casting random spells?"

He slipped something into her hand. "Robin broke into his house in Gotham. Is it enough?"

A glance down at her hand revealed a small lighter with the initials SEM engraved on it. It looked old and worn.

"I guess we'll find out. If it's important enough to him, it should be." She slipped the lighter into her purse and they started the walk to the front door. A twitchy man, probably one of the casino mangers, nearly tripped over himself as he made his way to them.

"Mr. Wayne! Mr. Wayne, welcome! And Ms. Zatanna, what a great pleasure to see you here. I've heard your show is the best thing to happen to Vegas in years. You must play here at Caesar's soon." He was talking so fast that he was nearly out of breath by the time he was close enough to shake Bruce's free hand. His other hand was on her waist, holding her tighter than was really needed.

"It would be an honor to play here, Mr….?"

"Flemming. Eugene Flemming, casino manager. I do hope you're here to enjoy our casino tables, Mr. Wayne, we have the most generous dealers on the Strip." Sure you do.

"Just point the way, Mr. Flemming. I have a few hundred thousand burning a hole in my pocket as we speak, and I'll need a few hundred more if I'm going to keep Ms. Zatara's attention while I'm here."

Asshole.

"Well, then, let me show you the way." Flemming was giddy.

They wound their way through the massive casino floor, again drawing attention from every eye in the building. She was relieved to enter the most exclusive part of the club, because she had felt terribly over-dressed for the nickle slots. Bruce set about getting more chips than he could carry (a handy usher who would soon be over-tipped took care of that problem) while Zee scanned the room for anyone who looked like the photo Kate had sent her.

Salvatore Maroni was was nothing special to look at. Mid 40s, average weight, 6'1" with black hair and a widow's peak. His nickname was "The Boss". By the way Kate described him, he probably gave himself that moniker. He had never been one of the bigger crime bosses in Gotham. Maybe this shipment was his way of trying to change that.

"Anything interesting, darling?" Bruce's voice rang out over the thrum of the casino as he returned to her.

"Nothing yet, babe," she could tell terms of endearment were not something he was used to incorporating into his speech. She also knew he wasn't asking about the casino tables.

"Well, let's see what kind of trouble we can get into." He slung an arm over her shoulders and guided her toward the closest craps table.

It wasn't long before he was putting on a show. He made sure to have her blow on the dice before flinging them across the table with a flourish. He also wasn't shy about making sure everyone knew who she currently belonged to. His hands frequently roamed her body and he would request a kiss on the cheek for good luck every other bet. He needed a shave.

"Oh, that last kiss is wearing off, beautiful, time for a recharge." She did her best to play along with the over-the-top performance. It was like watching some Bizarro Bruce sent from an alternate dimension. The feel of his hands on her body was torture, and she was quickly becoming flushed and disoriented again. I'm going to have another restless night.

Feeling the need to take a break from the act, she excused herself to go to the bar and get a drink. She also needed to find somewhere quiet to cast a quick tracking spell on the lighter in her purse. She slipped into the bathroom and entered the first stall.

"Dnif ruoy renwo," she whispered into her hands. If her spell worked, the lighter would warm up and vibrate when she came near Maroni. It was the least noticeable thing she could think of, but it would require her to be within a few feet of him. She couldn't exactly have the thing fly through the air and sound an alarm over his head. Slipping the lighter into the garter she had conjured onto her right leg, she washed her hands and exited the bathroom. She took the long way to the bar, hoping that her roaming would bring her close to Maroni without drawing too much attention.

"Two club sodas with lime, please." Hopefully, they would look enough like something alcoholic that no one at the tables would doubt that she and Bruce were getting blitzed. Time for more acting.

She made another meandering return to the table that her "date" was cleaning out and handed him the drink. She was glad for the stilt-like heels she was wearing as she leaned in to put her mouth near his ear.

"Club soda. No sign of Maroni, but I'm tracking him with the lighter. I'll need to be within a few feet."

He nodded and tilted his head to the side to look at her.

"Well, that's certainly the best offer I've had in a while." He drawled, speaking loudly enough for the table to hear. He turned and pulled her against him, taking her breath away as he nuzzled her neck. "Let's move. Maybe he's further in." His lips were brushing against the skin just under her right ear and a shiver ran down her spine. He noticed and grinned as he pulled his head back, clearly starting to enjoy the effect he had on her.

Yep. Asshole.

"Sorry, folks, but I'm moving on. Enjoy the rest of your evening," he bellowed to the table as if it were surrounded by his newest group of best friends. The usher appeared out of nowhere and followed after them, carting an even-larger stack of chips.

Of course a billionaire is going to have the best luck.

They walked slowly through the tables, Bruce shaking hands with people he may or may not have actually known and making a show of being attentive to her; brushing her hair away from her face and rubbing her back and arms. Stopping at various tables to further increase the chip pile, they continued to keep their eyes on the faces that passed by. Two and a half hours in and no Maroni. At one point, Bruce turned to look at her with a puzzled expression on his face.

"Did you just shrink?"

"Shortened my heels. Damn things are killing me."

This drew another rare laugh from him. "No one to blame but yourself." He pulled her close again. "Nothing?"

"Nothing." They resumed their slow walk through the tables, his hands never leaving her body. He had her so wound up that she jumped and let out a small yelp when the lighter started to warm and vibrate. It was entirely too high on her inside of her thigh.

He turned to look at her, clearly confused by her sudden outburst.

"He's close," she whispered into his ear.

Bruce's face went serious for a moment while he scanned the nearby tables. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone, pressing a button on the side before putting it back.

"Let's win some more money, Zee," he almost shouted. He'd never used her nickname before and she hated that she liked the way it sounded. With the lighter still vibrating and warming her thigh, she was liking everything about him a little too much right now. She would have to find a place to slip it back out of the garter before she had an orgasm in the middle of the casino.

"This should do the trick!" Bruce's jubilant voice brought her back to reality for the moment. He approached a blackjack table and sat down. The lighter was about to jump off of her leg, and when she looked across the table, her eyes met Sal Maroni's. He was shamelessly leering at her.

The usher set Bruce's chips down at the table, and she asked for him to bring a chair so she could sit next to him. He cast a glance at the dealer, who nodded an approval. The young man returned quickly with her seat before vanishing again to wait until he was needed. That should increase the tip.

Now that she was sitting, she crossed her legs and slipped her hand up to her thigh, grabbing the lighter and returning it to her purse. When she looked up, Bruce was watching her with a wicked grin on his face. Busted. She tried to glare at him, but his smile warmed her and she grinned back.

"Not a word," she muttered, putting her hand on his shoulder.

Chuckling softly, he turned his attention to the table...and to Maroni. She was having fun in spite of herself, but now it was time to get down to business. They needed to get him alone and away from cameras. Bruce would subdue him, she would teleport them to the Watchtower. No extra attention, no noise. She wasn't sure how they were going to get him off of the casino floor, but she had a sneaking suspicion her low-cut dress would come into play. The thought made her nauseous. She wasn't that good of an actress.

The dealer flung the cards in front of the players. Bruce pushed a pile of chips in to bet without looking at his cards. He was staring directly at Maroni, who was staring back.

What is he doing?

"Hit me," he said, still not looking away from their target.

"Twenty-one" the dealer called out and pushed another huge pile of chips Bruce's way.

Zatanna clapped and squealed with mock delight. Bruce turned and smiled at her, face only a few inches away.

"That should cover dinner, shouldn't it?"

"And breakfast," she purred, running her hand down his chest and stomach until she reached his belt. She heard his breath catch and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. They should probably dial it back now that Maroni was in reach, but she liked the reaction her touch had gotten.

"Bruce Wayne, isn't it?" Maroni finally spoke up. "Sal Maroni. I'm surprised we've never crossed paths in Gotham. I've seen the young Zatanna play there a few times, though. I must say, I think that dress would look even better with the fishnets." He returned to leering at her and she instinctively moved closer to Bruce's side. His arm reached around her neck possessively. Maybe he doesn't intend to use me as bait. Low-level crime boss or not, the guy gave off a lecherous energy that turned her stomach.

"You in town on business or pleasure, Mr. Maroni?" Bruce's voice maintained a casual edge, despite the fact that every muscle in his body was tensed.

"Just here to blow some money," he replied, placing another bet in front of him. If he intended to dick-measure by trying to keep up with Bruce's betting, he was going to have to do better than that.

"What about you, Wayne?"

Bruce pushed his much larger bet in and turned to look Zatanna in the eyes.

"Pleasure," he rasped, running his hand down her back along the exposed skin until he reached where the fabric started just above her hips. She let out a ragged breath as he did; her mouth opening slightly and tongue instinctively darting out to wet her lips.

Fuck. So much for dialing it back.

If she was going to be any use to him in capturing Maroni, he was going to have to ease up. She leaned back from him slightly and gave him the sharpest look she could muster, hoping he would take the hint. His hand stayed in place at the small of her back, thumb rubbing against her bare skin. She was all but useless at that point.

"Salvatore Maroni?" The loud voice snapped her out of her trance and Bruce's hand dropped from her back.

"I'm afraid you need to come with us, Mr. Maroni." Two cops quickly flanked the mobster and took his arms. Zatanna turned to look at Bruce, who seemed ready to explode out of his chair.

"What the fuck is this?" Maroni ripped his arms away from the cops and straightened his coat. "Do you know who you're talking to, you bastard?" Everyone in the casino was watching the scene playing out before them...no one more intently than Bruce.

The cops grabbed Maroni's arms again and began to lead him across the floor, getting cussed every step of the way.

"Let's go, I need to find out what's going on." Bruce's whispered voice was filled with anger. The change of mood was so disorienting she almost fell over when he pulled her out of her chair. He steadied her and put an arm over her shoulder again, doing his best to return to his act.

"That's about all of the excitement I can stand, how about you, darling?" He spoke a little too loudly this time.

"Please, Mr. Wayne, there's no need to leave so soon. It's just a little misunderstanding, I'm sure." Flemming was in a panic as Bruce cashed in his chips and tipped the usher $500.

"Thanks, but when I promised Ms. Zatara a fun night, an interactive episode of Law and Order is not what I had in mind." The edge to his voice was razor sharp. She reached up and squeezed his arm in an attempt to calm him.

"It's really okay, Mr. Flemming. I'm just tired and ready to have a quiet dinner with Bruce. We appreciate the hospitality." She smiled warmly and reached out to shake his hand. Bruce stiffly mirrored the movement before turning them toward the door. The valet saw them coming and signaled for the limo to be brought around. As they stood waiting for the car, she turned to face him, trying to get his attention back on the show they were supposed to be putting on.

"Don't worry, babe. I thought it was exciting!" She put her arms around his waist and pulled his body against hers. He looked down into her eyes and seemed to remember that they were being watched from every angle.

His hands went around her back and he lowered his mouth to her ear again. "We need to get back to the hotel and talk to Kate."

"I know. But first we need to pretend we don't give a shit about Sal Maroni," she whispered back.

He put on another megawatt smile and brought a hand up to run through her hair. "I don't deserve you, Zee."

Where is that car?

Their eyes stayed locked and his hand was now resting against her neck, thumb stroking her cheek. She was fighting with everything she had to not press her mouth to his. She could feel his breath on her face. That aftershave again.

"Your limousine, Mr. Wayne." Bruce broke their embrace to hand yet another $100 to the valet.

The drive back to Harrah's was silent. She could tell he was furious. When they pulled up to the entrance, he helped her out of the car and they did their strut through the lobby to the elevator. He continued his silence during the ride up, simply holding her hand and maintaining a stiff smile.