Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognizable...sizable chunks of names/places/ect are owned by such places as DC, Paramount, yadda, yadda. If I ever own anything...I'll let you know. As soon as the shock of it wears off.

Underline problem appears to be fixed.

Wow...Adobe Flash installed and can finally see those chart things FFN touts. There are people voluntarily reading this from the Eastern Hemisphere? Now I fear for the entire Earth and not just U.S/Canada. 0.0 (On reflection, there's something perverse about the fact that these stories get to go global trotting while I'm stuck to a twenty-mile radius of the planet.)

Chapter 6: Schmoozing

Wally tried to dig his heels in a bit at the same time attempting to spot Tim or...um...well; okay, Drake was his only potential ally here, but plains-clothed Robin was nowhere in sight and Mr. Hassle with the iron grip was hell bent on dragging him to the stage for his debut execution. (That's correct-execution-being as far as the hapless hero was concerned he might as well be on his way to the gallows like in A Tale of Two Cities. Yeah, that's right, smarty pants-he'd read some of the classics! Okay, the Cliff Notes version, but it was the same plot, right?)

Moon River...moon river...what kind of song was that? Sounded like something B.J. (Before Jagger) of pre-The Rolling Stones Age. Possibly Ante-'deluge'-ian as well (or whatever that fancy word was for Aquaman's dream world where there were none of the likes of detestable air breathers. Arthur Curry (publicly known as Aquaman; privately known as The Gilled Grump) loved all but the ending of "that Bible tale with the guy who built the unlicensed fat boat and gathered all the paired-up animals." Personally, Wally disliked the story of Noah And The Flood. It was proof that even a turtle could get a date with a willing partner and a free cruise ride in before a global calamity struck, but could a (literally) dashing superhero get a gratis kiss from a super babe when the sun had nearly gone snuff-o?

'Course not-nope.

Moon River.

The only thing close to a 'moon river' Wally could think of was that time with Dick (Robin The Boy Wonder V.1), Roy (Speedy), and Garth (Aqualad) when they were just kids and had decided to kill time swimming in the Potomac while their esteemed mentors (Flash, Batman, Green Arrow, and Aquaman) had been called to an important Justice League crisis meeting-or something similar-that unsullied children shouldn't have to worry about because (to paraphrase his deceased mentor) they were like "pure of mind" (or some such nonsense) and didn't need to hear about controversies regarding the craftsmanship of Amazonian battle armor versus modern Western Civilization decency standards.

(Yes, yes-Barry had been great and Wally missed him terribly, but the man had apparently forgotten loads of stuff upon becoming an adult as Flash had known scant about the realities of male children. In point of fact, the practicality of Wonder Woman's attire were of vast importance to Wally and his friends; it generated all sorts of interesting speculation on just how little it could attire while still being considered practical to the Amazons. And did the Amazonian 'no men' rule apply to kids? This last was because Roy had been certain that Garth could get them there...for further investigation of their theories, you know? Roy nearly had Garth convinced to take them to Paradise Island too seeing as Garth's personal theory about red-haired male air breathers having an unusually high interest in "the flying fish and sting rays part of Nature" (as he put it) was still in dispute and what better way to judge then to watch his companions drooling over an island of perfectly formed air-breathing females?)

Wally had never realized until just then how brilliant Roy and Garth could be.

It was a damn shame J'onn had been listening in and put the nix on their excursion idea by suggesting rather strongly that they keep their investigations to studying the native non-homo-sapien wildlife of the U.S. capitol area...preferably within grabbing range by their mentors-better make that Roy's mentor as the other two had a pretty extensive range-lest they cause an international incident and "the whole planet ends up consumed in some sort of juvenile-hormone created conflagration of the level of Sol going nova."

Anyway, the choice of swimming in the Potomac had naturally been Garth's idea-although Wally, Roy, and Dick had been willing enough to bare their (pale) skin and (almost-if you squinted) Atlas-muscled physiques. In fact they'd been indulging in innocently showing off to their peers (of the other sex) until some snobby jerks with United Nations protected status had arrived and promptly made fun of Garth. Well, you didn't make fun of Fish Stick unless you were a friend, so Roy suggested they display their displeasure by moving the back section of their swim trunks 'round the bend' while facing the other way (because that was the thing to do when you weren't supposed to indulge in fisticuffs...yet name calling was just too lame a response for upholding Gill Head's honor. It was like "turning the other cheek" Roy had explained to a confused mer-boy, a smirking Bat Kid, and a hesitant speedster "and what did Wally know about it to be shaking his head so? Twinkle-toes had grown up in the sticks with the most square personalities this side of Big 'S' Blue!" Well, could Wally counter that? Nope. Suffice it that for a moment there the Potomac could indeed have been christened as 'Moon River'...just before it became a fight zone of such proportions that if there hadn't been a Justice League crisis meeting already in progress before that there surely had been afterward. It had even made the evening news:

Boisterous Boys Busted After Belligerently Baring Behinds: JLA steps in to contain volatile international incident. In other news scientist claims sun nearly went nova.

Green Arrow had been supportive and given them a thumbs up once Roy had smoothly insisted it was in the interest of "free speech, artistic expression, and minority rights."

Lucky Roy with the liberal for a mentor.

Aquaman had merely cursed all land breathers as being imbeciles leading his impressionable heir astray before hauling Garth off by a pointed ear. He'd probably gotten off with just being banned from using the family whale for joy riding.

Somehow, neither Batman nor The Flash had been particularly pleased with their protégés first attempt at a non-violent and peaceful-type demonstration for species tolerance. Or the after effect thereof. In fact...

Wally winced at the memory.

Man, Barry sure had held some funny notions about propriety and logic and 'thinking first before doing something stupid such as listening to Roy'. Like how it was decidedly not okay to partially undress before the bad guys and gain a few misspent-youth contusions...but it was perfectly fine and dandy to bare one's caboose for a paddling and earn more bruises on that specific part of one's anatomy? Justice had been severely lacking in the League that day as far as Dick and Wally were concerned. Was it any wonder they formed the Teen Titans soon after that and voted down the use of anything that even remotely required a paddle be they ping pong or kayaks? Just thinking about it all brought the ache back to his rear asset...

Wait-a-sec-the pain wasn't just a memory...

Did somebody just pinch his tush?

(Not that he didn't pride himself on maintaining a nicely shaped...)

Argh. Disengage Ego! Put Brain in gear before attempting to drive!

Whirling around with the intent of giving someone the what-for, Wally spotted one of the most sultry ladies he'd ever seen this side of Themiscyra during their Swimsuit Contest Day. (Not that he'd been there for that. Officially. That anyone could prove. At least he didn't think they could as he still had all important organs in their correct alignments.)

Sultry Lady was wearing two things: a naked leer and one slinky black evening gown that went right along with the first to the point of making Wonder Woman' armor look downright chaste.

Who was this Hot Babe and how did she get past the Fuddy-Duddy Verification Check Point Police at the guest entrance?

Possibly because the guards were busy suffering from cardiac arrest which was pretty understandable and thank goodness I heal fast.

Sultry Lady had managed to snag one of his caviar crackers while he'd been in La-La-Land and was making quite a show of enjoying it while all the while ogling him.

Ew...how could anyone enjoy that stuff...and at the same time who cared that her tastebuds were dead when the rest of her was so...so...

Not dead.

Wally blushed and was suddenly extra annoyed at the pushy Mr. Hassex who refused to let go of his arm so he could practice some good old-fashioned American patriotism and go pursue some happiness.

Hassex deposited him at the edge of the orchestra. The band owner grinned at him, pointing at the conductor-who looked rather flustered upon seeing this kid his agent had foisted on him. "I'm going to get you set up, East-should only take a few minutes. Just don't go far, okay? Remember-"

Wally almost rolled his eyes at the Hassex's blatant and rather pathetic attempt at blackmail. Heck, he'd been threatened by the best: Darkseid, Brainiac, Rogues, J'onn, Shay, John, Supes, Batman, The Internal Revenue Service, Hippolyta, New Gods, Old Gods, those Hell's Angels whose bikes had gotten caught up in his jet stream... It was nothing new.

"Do the Hari-Kiri Karaoke or it's plastic bag curtains for the kids in cardboard boxes. Yeah, I got it, Piranha Man."

"Uh...great." Blinking away his confusion at the nicknames, Hassex gave Wally a slap on the back. "Hang tight. I'll be back asap."

"Take your time. I'll just...hang."

And talk to myself.

Dangling from the end of a rope...that pretty much does sum it all up.

Shut up, Brain.

I wonder if Moon River is dangerous and what the fatality rate is? Lot's of rivers are dangerous. People drowned in them. I'm going to choke and drown, aren't I? No I'm not. I'm a superhero just like Superman! (Well, we were both raised in the corn belt anyway.) I can do this. Singing in front of a crowd is really just like singing to yourself, which is just like running...only using your mouth instead of your feet. I'm good at using both. By golly, I'm even good at multitasking the two together:

Foot-in-Mouth Flash The Fastest Fiasco Alive.

No, no-stop being so pessimistic, Brain. I'm good. Even J'onn says I'm gifted because I can run off at the mouth all the time even when I'm not actually opening it. Not many other super heroes have that kind of talent. Heck, I'm a Creative Thinker! So this should be easy like a piece of cake...Let them eat cake...Marie Antoinette...Tale of Two Cities...Guillotine...Grisly, bloody scene...

Doomed.

Up in the Watchtower Monitor Room, bucket of movie popcorn in hand:

'Actually, Wallace, I meant 'gifted' like something foisted off on others because nobody in their right mind would actually pay for it.'

*munch, munch*

Scratching the back of his head, Wally watched the orchestra try to orchestrate around this mess-because it was clear that the conductor thought Hassex was making a mistake in trusting an unknown. Wally couldn't blame the man. He sure the heck didn't trust himself not to muff this.

With a fateful sigh the speedster mentally started ticking off all the people he was to keep an eye out for: Hassex, because he'd promised the man he'd 'save the children' and right now he was more worried about his own skin; Tim, to get him out of here with some inspired Bat Kid excuse; Alfred and/or Bruce,since if he was caught here humiliation would be the least of his worries since he wouldn't put it past Batman to keep some kind of foldable Batpaddle in his utility belt-one ominously engraved with the Flash logo: the self-same disciplinary instrument The Bat had threatened he'd manufacture that horrible time Wally had impulsively purchased and brought to a Founder's meeting a Batman-Head Pez Stick Dispenser which he'd jokingly commanded in front of everyone to "cough 'em up, Batz!" while jiggling the container so as to feed himself the candies from said stick.

It was really sad how Batman had no sense of fun.

And scary.

Mainly scary.

Especially with the gruesome fate of the dispenser.

Uh oh.

The speedster's peripheral vision caught that same lady again, making carnivore eyes at him. Wally quickly turned to face the other way only to be reminded that he was still holding a platter of dead fish babies on rye when one egg of which flew off and headed like a squishy, guided, cannon ball for a polished shoe.

Naturally enough-Bruce Wayne's shoe.

Oh god.

[Watchtower: Monitor Room]

*sounds of munching on chocos*

(Scratch that.)

*sounds of choking on chocos*

"Oh gods."

Standing near the orchestra, Bruce could have sworn he'd seen someone he recognized as an unwanted element-when he'd sensed activity near his right foot. He looked down and saw nothing amiss-unless you counted one of the servers crouched down by his knee holding a single pickled roe in his fingers. Eyes submissively kept hooded, the server adjusted his spectacles and offered Bruce a sickly smile. "Eh...Señor Wayne?" He placed the roe back on a cracker-for all the world reminding Bruce of a kid caught red handed at the cookie jar and about to go into detail about how he was just testing texture variances.

(Not that Bruce had ever done such a thing.

That he was willing to recall...because the -glare- that Alfred had given him...)

Was the fellow stealing from the platter meant for the guests? Bruce frowned upon thievery-even the petty variety. Also, something about the dark-haired man was...familiar despite the atrocious attempt at a Latin accent. He was half inclined to confront the probable thief, but suddenly the financier who had for the last ten minutes cornered him on investment portfolios got more insistent that Bruce listen to him about the economic stability of Mars Bars stocks versus Lightning Speed ones and wasn't it terrible how today's youth didn't know what they were doing because things were always spiraling out of control whenever you turned your back on them for a moment?

Which was somewhat odd as they'd previously been discussing the merits of gold versus silver.

When he'd looked up to agree with the suddenly unhinged financier, the caviar server was already gone from sight.

Wayne's eyes narrowed with annoyance for all of a moment before the playboy mask was back in place. He'd track down the man later and give him a talking to before either calling the police for a pick-up or firing him.

From his hiding place behind the cymbalist, Wally took a deep breath to calm his jittery nerves.

Man, that had been close! The level of close they touted in those shaving commercials with the little animated segments of hairs being cut off like sinners by the Grim Reaper during that Sam Wayne* thing (and didn't it figure that Batz had a relative who'd invented Halloween?) Not that he was against Halloween. Sure, to a costumed hero dressing up as someone else was not considered a special treat, but there was candy galore just for the asking (at times like that being mistaken for a juvenile was a good thing) and-oh the parties with the food and the music and the games, and the sugary food and the food and more sugary food and-!

Weren't parties supposed to be fun?

Party.

Currently in progress, you twit. (Oh nonononono...Conscience was awake and scowling and-it was so unfair that not only did he at times have comm difficulties with his Brain, but his Conscience's snide voice had taken on all the qualities of GL's. Why couldn't it have been Shayera? He stood a chance of sweet-talking Shay. John was just...merciless. Well, no...Batz was merciless. John was...drill-sergeant stern. Batz made you want to run and hide; John made you do bench presses.)

Party.

One he had to sing for...if not for his own supper, then for those of little kids who didn't want to be contemplating the daily offering of artichokes from paper-product domiciles because adults of all levels and powers for some reason thought spiky plants and fish eggs were nutritious and edible while Hostess Cupcakes were not. You know, that meant that whole "you are what you eat" thing ran true because Wally knew how to voice Zingers and had a soft sweet soul in his center while Bruce was all about exuding fat-free prickliness.

Ugh! Pay attention! (Glowing-Green 'John' Conscious smacked Wandering 'Wally' Brain across the back of his head...self.) Alfred said a good manservant always ascertains the needs of his employer and delivers without needing to be consulted for everything. Think of people as cars. Observe. Diagnose. Find any problems and fix them promptly and without getting the oil and the anti-freeze confused this time.

Wandering Brain considered giving Conscious the figurative finger, but decided against it because they were roomies after all and Conscious could get really vindictive when it wanted and do stuff like hiding the over PG-13 rated daydream videos.

Wally sighed and figured it was time to get it in gear before the rest of his mental Justice League showed up to side with John.

Per the usual (from his point-of-view), people were slowly enunciating conversations as if the words were stuck in their throats and had to be pried loose syllable by precious syllable. Wally forced himself to be patient and listen. If he could get a feel of what these well-pursed older folk were enthused enough to talk about, maybe he could come up with some music to sing that hadn't been recorded on a Victrola.

"Truly? No, but who could pass up the opportunity to network with Wayne's crowd? The financial gains..."

"Not that I care enough to notice your business, but didn't you wear those same shoes yesterday, darling?"

"Is that Jonathan? I have this terrific merger proposal I want to-"

"So I told Anastasia, I said, New York was good enough at times, but nothing can beat Paris for real haute couture-"

"Excuse me, waiter? But those beauties look succulent. I'd like to taste them."

"My broker swears its on the up and up. I'm going to make a killing-"

"Didn't we see you at Pearl's? With that woman who looked like a prostitute...?"

Yow. Were these people associates of Bruce Wayne's or from his minor Rogue Gallery? Captain Cold had a sunnier disposition and Digger could use some of those insults to sharpen his bladed boomerangs.

If this was how they treated their peers, they were going to pick his self-esteem clean off his bones after he was done with his stint. Was failing to please an audience grounds for public stoning in Gotham?

Hassex gave him a 'three minutes' signal. Wally tried to look enthusiastic about that.

Failed miserably.

Three minutes to live and (he glanced at his serving platter) not even a last meal.

Okay, songs that might go down well here. Maybe Money, Money, Money by ABBA? Or Madonna's Material Girl? He hummed a few bars of the latter.

'We live in a material world...'

Conscience smacked him again right out of the blue.

Now what? Had he missed something else that 'John' had caught? He hit the rewind button on Short-Term Memory.

"prostitute a like looked who woman that with Pearl's at you see we didn't killing a make to going I'm up and up the on its swears broker my them taste to like I'd succulent look beauties those but waiter me excuse-"

There! A woman's voice asking a question. Replay!

'Excuse me, waiter? But those green beauties look succulent. I'd like to taste them.'

His peripheral vision quickly pinpointed the speaker of that particular line.

Oh wow. It was that seductress again! Wally suppressed a mental groan even as his concupiscence gave a 'fukYEAH!' cheer. Now was not the time for -that- level of distraction. He needed to think about songs not...well, lets just say he needed to be able to -think- period. Maybe Conscience would cut him some slack under the circumstances and he could go on pretending he hadn't heard her even if that would be rude and un-manservant like?

*whack*

'Damn it.'

"Waiter?"

Plastering a congenial smile onto his face, Wally turned to offer the woman the appetizers on his tray. At least this minx sounded like she was just interested in having her face fed and not her bank account or ego and there would still be plenty of time to come up with songs after he'd done this domestic duty. He'd think of something.

Hey, dumb luck was usually on his side!

(Up in the Watchtower a lone Martian muttered: 'That explains why it was called 'dumb'.)

Smiling politely, Wally shifted position so as to better offer the lady one of the hors d'oeuvre on his tray: "Why, good evening, miss. These are imported from the finest fish coops of coastal Siberia. Would you like to try one?" (They were called fish coops, right? I mean, they're eggs and chickens lay eggs and they live in coops where the hens are happy and I bet the sole rooster is even happier.)

The woman's fingers skittered over the tray, but to his surprise did not pick up anything.

"As much as I simply adore aquatic fare, I was actually referring to the the other imports." Her hand continued forward until an index finger fitted under Wally's chin before she lifted off his glasses. She shamelessly stared him right in his face. "What mother gave birth to such fine succulents? They're so...feline." Wally gulped at her naked appraisal of his eyes, trying desperately not to start vibrating because her voice was...it was like warm honey on ice cream just dripping with gooey flavor and...his legs refused to move...and...

Crud.

Beautiful women were his kryptonite.

'Woo! Woo! Woo!

Imminent hull breach, Keptin!

Sir, the feminine bombardment is sweeping aside Personal Restraint shields!

Hull breach, sir! Hormones are flooding the lower compartments and rising!

Communications are down, Captain! I can't send or receive anything but static!

Emergency Expendable Red Blood Cell detail on the double, Mr. Chekov! Uhura, get Communications back up, pronto!

Keptin, the Red Suits are on strike pending a review into hazardous conditions compensation!

Dammit! I'm being trampled by exclamation points! Mr. Scott-get us the hell out of here!

Sair, Warp Speed is offline! The Metabolism Engines are hit! (Me poor wee bairns!)

Let's worry about the miniature cowsheds later, Scotty! Damn, damn, damn-why can't I think?

Captain, hormonal inundation has flooded the main computer. Intelligent thought processing is down by fifty percent and falling steadily.

No shit! Mr. Scott, get those metabolism systems back online! We've got to flush out these hormones! Everyone, man the buckets! Bail! Bail! Bail!

Captain, I may have communications back online!'

'Excuse me?'

Wally's voice squeaked like Mickey Mouse's would while holding dangerous experiments with helium balloons. At least the blush was diverting blood flow from other places.

Wait! That hadn't been his voice! In fact, his question had come out sounding more like...

The wheezy noise sounded again.

Oh crud! The femme fatale had laid her other hand on his breast. (Pocket! Breast pocket!) Where his security device was hidden. Well, not a 'device' so much as a...

Her eyes held some confusion as she prodded the spot again.

*Squee-quwak*

"What is that noise?"

"It's-nothing!" Wally hurriedly blurted out because if this babe saw-

But she already had her hand into his jacket, fishing an object out. Wally couldn't help but vibrate some more both from embarrassment and because..well, a hot chick had her hand under his clothes! (Okay, just his jacket pocket, but-still!)

"Oh my..." the lady giggled. "Is this a...?"

"Yeah, so you found FlashDucky. What of it?" Wally was really blushing crimson now, hoping like hell that nobody else was watching. "Just...it's kind of a good luck charm, you know?" He hastily placed it back in it's 'nest'.

"Why was...FlashDucky...wearing a Batman cape?"

(Why did people always zero in on the awkward questions?)

"He was feeling insecure?"

"So your good luck charm needs a security blanket? That's adorable," Sultry Lady stroked his jacket over the small lump, the predatory gleam abating from her eyes as a bit of softness took over. "You're adorable...like a wide-eyed kitten peeking out at a new world and not quite sure what to make of it." The calculating look returned to her eyes. "Name your offer," she purred, "I'm sure I can meet your price, Ginger." Her other hand started reaching towards him and not in the direction of the caviar.

Not the kind from Siberia, anyway.

Seriously, Wally was the Fastest Man Alive and was a bit territorial about it. He never felt comfortable when someone tried to move faster than he did. That kind of confrontation usually meant the need to challenge the other to a race to support his claim. However, when it had to do with dominance in matters of flirting? More times than not the terrain under his feet got all misaligned-potholed. Lust was now playing musical chairs with Disgruntlement and a not a little bit of Uncertainty bordering on Fear. In his experience, dominant women were as like to beat you to a pulp after you kissed them. Dominant women were nice to look at, but unsafe to hold...like nitro. One wrong move and-ka-blammo!-Samson was trying on baseball caps while Delilah primped her new hair extensions.

Also, no man wanted to be compared to a baby animal.

'A kitten?' Wally fumed with growing indignity. 'He was not a kitten! Kittens were fluffy balls of cuteness with an uncanny ability to ruin clothing and had to be regularly saved from trees by the likes of Superman! So, okay, he did have a bit of a tendency towards destroyed Flash suits, but did he look like he had to be consistently saved by Superman? Did he?

Don't answer that, Conscience!

'Keep your cool, Wally, keep your cool. Just say no.'

He used a touch of speed in order to evade her questing fingers. "Um...I wasn't aware I was wearing a barcode ticket. Besides, I...don't think my boss would approve of my fraternizing with the company and I really need this job." He frowned, adding, "And-not to question your educational background or color blindness-but it's not 'Ginger'." He pointed at his name badge and black hair dye job.

"Oh? Well then, Mr..." she glanced at the small name tag on Wally's label. "Server: Bartholomew East?" Her chuckle was unpleasantly barbed. "Bartholomew as in the Saint? The patron of tanners?" She tapped Wally on the cheek, letting her fingers run down the olive-toned skin. "Nice bronze job, but I'm afraid you missed some spots. Of course, you'd be more accustomed to handling body parts then knowing how to apply paint, wouldn't you, Ginger? Question is...do you like to tan or be tanned? I'm very good at the latter." Her hand had by this time trailed down his ribs and was moving towards his bum. "In fact, I"m very good..when it comes to being very bad."

"Whoa!"

Wally smoothly executed a twist and step back, creating an air gap between them before she could pat it or whatever she'd planned to do. "I'm afraid I've no idea who or what you are referring to. Also, maam, I prefer to go by my nickname...Celibate."

"Bartholomew 'Celibate' East is a bit of a mouthful. We can always have it legally changed. How about 'Boy Toy'?"

"Nope. But 'Harassment Lawsuit' would fit."

The woman did not look terribly amused by that. Frankly, Wally didn't care. He'd just remembered that Diana had warned him that he should curb his libido because female demons were real and right now Wally didn't doubt her word. What did she call them? Suck-A-Bus? Ancient cultures sure had overly long and very weird names for things. Maybe because ancient times had been so boring before iPods? At any rate, this gal was really setting off his Flashie sense: making him tingle all over from apprehension. He gave her a cold stare to hide his nervousness, hoping she'd get the hint and lay off be she a human female or card-carrying member of some Sisterhood of Evil.

From the look on her face Sultry Lady-turned-Suck-A-Bus didn't take rejection well. Crud. But as long as she didn't start spewing and throwing hellfire, he could deal.

"It seems there's been a bit of a misunderstanding, Ginger. See, I sometimes have dealings in the Midwest. Police business? Sometimes I get bored and do a bit of casing...er...people watching. Sometimes someone even catches my eye more than the others. Everyone has a price, Mr. West."

Wally swallowed. She was bluffing. She had to be. Wally West was a nobody pretty much everywhere. "It's East."

"Oh? Must have been a slip of the tongue. Dangerous things those." She moved in closer than ever in order to whisper into his ear. "I understand that employment is such a haphazard affair for the working class poor in Keystone...particularly those in the mechanics field. I wouldn't count on your current employer for future paychecks, though. You're soon to be freshly between jobs if I say one word to Mr. Wayne. I'm rather good at things like that, and you've managed to ruffle my fur. Do we understand each other, Gingerbread Man?"

"Look, I don't want any-mmmph!"

What happened next was not totally the speedster's fault as by this time he was half convinced that this was indeed a succubus from the pits of Hell come to torment him; and they do say that for every action there is an equal but opposite reaction.

Taken aback by suddenly being grabbed by the seat of his pants and enthusiastically kissed, Wally reacted without thinking by slamming his tray against the side of the her head. Well, 'slammed' might be overstating the severity of the blow, but there was an undeniable connection between the silver platter and salon-coiffed tresses. Caviar flew like buckshot, pelting several other patrons as the alleged she-demon went down.

"Let-go-of-my-ass, you, succubus fiend! I said no!" Nervous coughs peppered the immediate vicinity, defusing Wally's ire just long enough for him to notice the sea of upper society staring in his direction.

'Uh oh.'

Between causing a disruption at Bruce's party and hitting a woman, Wally was pretty certain that he was at the very least going to be permanently erased from even Superman's Holiday Gift Exchange list and that those dribble glasses might have been the best gift option after all.

A/N: Sam Wayne*: In case you didn't get it, Wally meant 'Samhain' which was an ancient Celt holiday held on November 1st. It's pronounced Sow-in or similar, but to American eyes looks like it would be "SamHayne". Sam Hayne/Sam Wayne... Eh... This IS Wally West I am channeling. No offense intended by either of us.