8250/Have You Considered Some Hedgerows

Have You Considered Some Hedgerows
Date of Scene:	10 July 2019
Location:	Shadowcrest
Synopsis:	Silver Sablinova provides security consultation for Zatanna Zatara's Shadowcrest Manor.
Cast of Characters:	Zatanna Zatara, Silver Sable

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Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna stands by a scorched black patch of grass on the lawn of Shadowcrest's Victorian-style gardens. She's foregone her typical work clothes for a loose, jet black blouse and a pair of snug jeans. A pair of shiny black boots reach to just above her knee, her jeans tucked into them. She peers at the place where, just a night ago, a portal to Hell was opened by a pair of hapless wizards. They're gone now, but the concern remains.

She made some calls. Passed a few valuables - conjured from nothing or duly earned - on to a few interested collectors and the meeting was arranged. She wrinkles her nose at the patch on the grass, frowning deeply at it before she turns and moves towards the gate. She waves her hand as she does, the very air around the mansion seeming to shimmer hotly for a second before returning to normal. The wrought iron gates swing outward as if on cue, opening onto the stony drive that leads up to the house proper.

Silver Sable has posed:
A Jeep rambles up. It's shiny and looks new. But it handles like it's loosened up from hard use and there are some scuffs to the undercarriage that didn't get buffed out for cosmetic reasons. Late model, shiny, freshly waxed, and very obviously an expensive custom item built to someone's exacting specifications.

One person dismounts the vehicle. An older woman, with silver hair? No-- she turns to face Zatanna after giving the yard a thorough once-over, and steps over. No lines on her face. Her clothing's all custom, in shades of grey and silver. Military-esque, durable cotton trousers, combat boots, a white shirt and some kind of lean gear harness worn under it. A calf-length silver overcoat conceals a weapon strapped to her hip and the tucked-back sleeves expose thin traceries of silver scars on her forearms and knuckles. Hard-earned, too, not from a careless childhood.

"Miss Zatanna Zatara?" the silver-haired woman says, and steps towards Zee. A premptory handshake is offered, her grip like corded rope. "Silver Sablinova, Sablinova International. I'm your security consultant," she says with a completely straight face.

Not every day the CEO pays a house call.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna watches the Jeep roll to a stop, lifting a hand to surreptitiously wave her hand as though brushing her hair from her shoulders. The air once more shimmers like asphalt on a hot day, her occult senses tingling as the powerful wards surrounding Shadowcrest settle back into place. She reaches out to take the offered hand, her own grip delicate as she brings her second hand up to cup Silver's between them. The first words out of her mouth appear to be nonsense, although they resonate and seem to hang thick in the air as she speaks them: "Emoclew tseug."

The wards seem to hang less heavily in the air, their mistress showing them just where the new arrival stands. Zatanna's eyes light up and her lips part in a broad, toothy smile.

"Sorry about that," she says breezily, "an unfortunate bit of preamble for guests coming in from the street. And yes, that's me. I read your brochure, but I'm a bit surprised that you're making the visit personally. I'm flattered. It's comforting to see you're taking this so seriously."

She sighs, biting her bottom lip lightly before asking: "Should I show you where I think they broke in?"

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver's eyes flicker around at the tension in the air. She's no sensitive. But she responds instinctively to the power in Zatanna's voice and the pressure against her soul from those crackling wards. The hand in Zatanna's grip tenses for just a moment, then relaxes.

"Is quite all right. We do some mystical consulting from time to time. Your name came up and my secretary flagged it. The Zatara name carries some reputation in Symkaria, if you did not know this. Combined with your substantial deposit..." She shrugs one shoulder as if it couldn't concern her less.

"Is good customer service," she concludes. "Take me to the intrusion site," she bids Zee. Despite her 'good customer service' claim, Silver has a premptory air of command around her that Zatanna isn't exempted from. "And fill me in on the incident. Your own words," she advises her.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"You want me to give you all the details? It gets rather mystical."

Zee doesn't wait for permission to launch into tales of the arcane, leading the way through the well-manicured gardens towards an incongruous little spot by the wall. As they go, what looks to be a small pair of pruning sheers darts through the air around a topiary animal to clip away budding offshoots here and there. The Lady of the Manor pays it no mind, still speaking at they go.

"I think they came in over the wall here," she explains, gesturing to the brick fence that encompasses Shadowcrest, "They couldn't have teleported themselves in. The wards don't allow it unless you're summoned from within - and if these were the sort of people who could bypass my wards then I doubt they'd have let me do to them what I did."

She moves on, leaving the details of what happened to the intruders themselves vague.

"Anyway, they were trying to summon a particular demon but summoned the wrong one. Nice girl, actually. We had wine. The whole attack doesn't much concern me, but if someone that incompetent can just walk in off the street then somethings falling down somewhere."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver admittedly stares at the hedgetrimmers for a beat. One can almost see herself jarring the train of thought back into motion and she focuses on Zatanna again.

She takes good notes. Quick and thorough, not missing anything Zatanna says-- no matter how arcane or obscure.

"So to understand," Silver says, looking around. "Intruders came over the fence. No magic, no special tools. They landed here. Summoned demon... girl."

She considers, then looks at Zatanna. "Miss Zatara, you should know that you have hired more than just a bricklayer to build your walls a bit taller. We pride ourselves on anticipating and defusing threats. What happened here--" she gestures behind her. "I have some theories already. Will need to do more research. But I can see some holes in your defenses as well."

Lips purse. "This might not be comfortable for you, miss Zatara, but you will have to trust me if you wish for my best efforts. Tell me, if you were to try and break in, where are your... wards... weakest? How would you get past them if you were criminal?" she asks in that clipped Sykmarian accent.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
For the first time, Zatanna's features darken a little. Not so much at Silver herself, but at the notion that the wards may have a weak point and be exploited. It seems for a second as though she will deny there is any sort of weakness. The wards are perfect. Her internal dialogue plays out across her face.

"Over here," Zee answers curtly, the flair gone from her voice and her demeanor as she moves to an innocuous place several feet along the brick wall. "The air ward meets the earth ward here. There's some discord between them if you know what you're looking for."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver produces a cell phone and a hololens extends from the surface. Photos are taking and she mutters quietly into it in Symkarian, examining the location and carefully making visual references to the house.

Zatanna's tone is not lost on her, and she looks to Zee. The phone's turned to show her the recording. "StarkTech flagship line. Unbreakable security. We take client privacy quite seriously, miss Zatara," Silver tells the raven-haired magicienne.

"I know this is uncomfortable," she remarks. The mercenary steps a bit closer to Zatanna, looking at her with a steady confidence. "I am here to help you. What you say, I keep in confidence. And the more honest you are with yourself-- with me-- the more I can be of aid. Even just as... 'sounding board'," she says, careful to get the term right.

"What about from above and below? Warded all over, da?" she inquires, gesturing at the sky and earth. "From all intruders, or just magical ones?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Typically just magical intruders," Zee explains, gesturing around them, "the only real kind I have to worry about. Most people who aren't mystically inclined have trouble even finding the place without directions. You probably had some trouble with your GPS on the way?"

She crouches down for a moment, scooping up a handful of the sod with her hand and looking at it critically. To others, just a chunk of dirt but to her the stuff of the ward that keeps her property safe and secure ... or so she thought. She puts it back where she found it, rising easily to her feet once again and speaking half to herself.

"Alright, well, if we're going to do this then let's do it right. The wards here are weak, like I said. And they don't keep out mundane visitors ... at least, not in passing. If they've got actual, malicious intent it can come down on them like a ton of bricks but I suppose there are ways around that."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver nods and takes more notes, looking around. Questions are asked, pointed and blunt-- the design of the wards, their concept, the radius and their strength. At no point does she convey approval or disappointment. It's just all patiently and steadily recorded, and from those notes she starts to draw an image of Shadowcrest and an representation of the wards around it.

"Is enough for a start," Silver tells Zatanna, nodding. "If you have time, let's go inside. Best to discuss away from prying eyes."

Once indoors and situated, Silver drops her phone on a surface and projects a holo-image in the air over it. Adjustments are made with passes of her fingers, moving, shaping, labelling and coloring various elements. A crude-- but accurate-- representation of the wards as described by Zatanna.

"Two kinds of intruder," Silver explains, turning to look at Zatanna. "First kind, crime of passion or opportunity." The word rolls off her lips with heavy accenting on the vowels. "These are... petty thieves, burglars. Rabidly enthusiastic fans," she adds, and for the first time a smile threatens the corner of her mouth. "Dangerous, but not well organized." The faint smile fades. "Other group are determined. Aggressive. They are much more dangerous, though perhaps more rare. It is expensive and difficult to stop them, and the better they are, the more expensive your security must be."

Her brow furrows. "I should make clear-- security is not a state. You are not 'safe' or 'unsafe'. Security slows the intruders down, scares them off, neutralizes them. Any security can be broken if it is hit hard and fast enough in the right place. Good security is more designed to slow them down than stop them-- but you can do much more in that time they are slowed. Does that make sense?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zee speaks and, when it's her turn, she listens. She leads Silver around the gardens and then inside once invited to do so, sitting down in an overstuffed chair that looks as though it was purchased in a Vincent Price garage sale. She doesn't cross her legs or take on an imperious sort of air, instead steepling her fingers and leaning forward to observe the hologram critically. There's no sign of mirth or lightheartedness on her face.

"I understand," she remains still, only her eyes flicking up to meet Silver's, "I've always known the wards wouldn't stop someone who knows what they're doing from getting in. But they can annoy and they can hurt - slow them down, like you said. I admit I never gave much thought to someone with a gun breaking in as opposed to someone firing lightning from their fingers or something."

Then, as though the weight of all this is too much and she simply has to brush it aside, her tone changes. She leans back and becomes looser and easier in the chair, her smile finally returning to her face: "I hope you don't mind me taking a moment to express a little admiration. I imagined you'd know your stuff but I was half expecting to just have someone throw up a few security cameras and try to finagle some free tickets."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver blinks.

It's almost a tell, and she covers by clearing her throat and absently pushing her short-cropped silver hair behind one ear. "I.. thank you," she says with a stiff but sincere gratitude. A smile flickers. "Not many clients say such things. Mostly they want to throw a check at a problem and make it go away. I'm not in the business of selling false security," she tells Zatanna.

"Anyway. Task in hand," she says, forcing her eyes back to the holographic display. "Need layered security. Think less, hard walls and more like, nets. Slow. Harass. Detain. Wall is ten feet, da? Add construction to make fifteen feet and install ... tripwire lasers, motion detectors. Make some obvious, conceal more cunning ones. You see what I mean now, da? Slow and delay? If they can't go through fence, go over or under it. So tremorsensors below, motion detectors above. Now, we make it harder for them to intrude silently."

The presentation pauses and Silver looks back at Zatanna. "Had crazy stalker parasail into client's backyard once. Got lucky; they landed in the pool," she confesses.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
The smile on Zatanna's face grows a little wider when Silver blinks. All the talk of security and protection had her in such a serious mood, and it lifts off her like so much weight when she realizes what she's done.

"I appreciate the genuine security," her voice is low, the sort of old stage trick designed to draw the listener in, "I'm sure you figured out by now you've landed the contract. All the bells and whistles."

She stretches her arms over her head, catlike, and listens to the proposed new security measures. But then the anecdote about the stalker prompts her to break into a grin again: "You think I'm in danger from deranged parasailers? What would you recommend for that? Maybe some gninthgil?"

She points her finger into the air in the shape of a pistol, safely away from both herself and silver. As she speaks the finally word, a bolt of white-blue electricity arcs from her fingertips and cracks in the air noisily. Zee looks abashed, placing a hand over her chest but still grinning wide: "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sometimes I quite literally can't help myself."

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver glances at the stretching magicienne. It's at least a discreet look, and she covers by clearing her throat and focusing on the display again. The Symkarian woman never stops tracking Zatanna's movements out the corner of her eye but the lightning still takes her by surprise. A swift step propels her half a stride backwards and the holodisplay flickers and distorts at her.

"Bozhe moi. Er... yes, might work," she admits, guardedly. "Some legal issues there, shooting someone from sky. But nothing a good lawyer cannot address."

"So, da. Motion sensors to pick up drones and fliers to ... one hundred meters range. VI, virtual intelligence. Software very good at spotting such things."

"How do you feel about dogs?" Silver inquires. "Perfect guard aides. Will patrol grounds. Trained to look terrifying and bark loudly, but will only hold intruders by ankles. Hard to sneak past. Good for cold nights, too," she adds, with a smile as she ventures a little dry humor.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Every one of Zatanna's motions is easy, languid and relaxed. There is nothing clipped and professional about her. All the seriousness that was on her face and in her body language as Silver explained the threat has drained out of her, and once again she seems like a woman without much of a care in the world.

"Dogs? I like dogs. We never had one when I was little - they don't travel all that well. I've never owned one. More importantly, how do dogs feel about magic? I'd hate to get some only to find I've scared the poor things half to death with light shows and mystic wards and all that."

Zatanna climbs to her feet, sidling over to look curiously at the holographic display. She glances up over it at Silver, once again shifting the subject away from her security: "Do you get much leisure time as a security consultant? I imagine it turns into a 24 hour job very quickly."

Silver Sable has posed:
"Er... no," Silver admits. Zatanna's given a sideye, as if Silver's gauging her sincerity. Finding no duplicity the silver-haired woman turns to face her a little more formally. "I mean, is multinaitonal corporation. We have units all over the world," she explains, gesturing vaguely.

"But," she admits, and then she /does/ smile. A little. "I have been accused of being overworker, I suppose. Always something to do if you go look for it. Aside from drinking at local bar, I seem to do nothing but work and sleep."

She glances at the holodisplay, looks back at Zatanna. "And yourself?" Silver gestures vaguely at Zatanna. "Famous magician, well respected, good reputation in occult community. Is this magician joke? You 'make' free time when you want some?" she ventures.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Oh, wherever I can, here and there. The money doesn't quite pour in, but as long as I keep working and people keep buying tickets it all seems to work out alright."

Zee rises to her feet, picking up an empty glass that looks to have been set down on the sideboard and forgotten. She holds it up for a moment, looking at it critically. Antique crystal for certain. The stem and base ornately engraved. She gives it one more look before letting it drop from her hand, shattering on the floor below. Her eyes flick up to Silver, taking some obvious pleasure in putting on her little magic show for the upright and professional woman.

"As for making time, well, that's truer than you might realize. Esrever!"

This particular word seems to press tighter against the frame of reality, as though the cost of saying them is more than simply hurling an errant lightning bolt. But after a half-second it bends, the glass seeming to reassemble itself on the floor and fly back into her hand as the last brief fraction of a second rewinds itself. A critical eye may spy the bead of perspiration on her brow, but she quickly dabs it with the back of her hand under the guise of brushing away an errant strand of hair. Her breathing a little more strained as though she just had to run a short distance at speed.

Silver Sable has posed:
"Bogavide," Silver exhales in shock. Zatanna's little displays are giving the woman whiplash with their shocking defiance for nature. The lightning bolt was one thing-- Silver's seen Thor himself at work. But there's something profoundly abnormal about turning back time, and Zatanna's effortless use of temporal magic stuns the mercenary for a moment.

A bandage on her left forearm is rubbed, absently. It's a little dark in one spot where the injury must be.

"I'd pay a handsome fee to know how to do that," Silver admits wryly. "Can think of many times in my life a second or two of time travelling would have helped me." She looks at Zatanna with a flickering up and down. "The legends definitely do not do you justice," she confesses.

"Still, I think I can help shore up security here. Good mix of magic and technology. We have some familiarity with both," Silver explains. "Not that... I woudn't enjoy a show, but you did hire me to do a job," she reminds Zatanna politely. "Should make at least a token effort at the work before I sit back and enjoy, da?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Even that miniscule display of temporal manipulation has taken an obvious toll on Zatanna. A light sheen of sweat has formed on her forehead, her breathing is rougher and she looks as though she has gone from early morning chipper to late evening exhausted. All the same, she wears it well and passes it off as though it were just a simple little trick as easy as pulling a coin from behind Silver's ear. But practiced eyes easily see through that little deception. Time magic has a steep price, it would seem.

"I suppose," Zatanna sighs, straightening herself up slightly before producing a pair of tickets with a flick of her wrist. The heavy feel of magic being worked does not come along with this particular trick, suggesting a purely mundane origin. She holds them out for Silver, a laugh in her voice as she adds: "Don't worry, I'm not planning on paying you in magic shows. That's in case you feel like a night out that isn't at the local bar, okay?"

Silver Sable has posed:
Silver accepts the tickets and glances at them. Zatanna's comment prompts a look and a flashing grin. "Good. Enjoying the show, miss Zatara, but you're paying good money for my services here. Unless you're prepared to move to Symkaria as magician-in-residence, better to stick with coin of the realm. Cash, check, credit card. Even Bitcoin now. Precious gems, too; they are light, and travel well."

Silver pauses and glances at the holodisplay, then back at Zatanna. "I don't have /tickets/, but... if you wished to see the bar sometime, you're welcome to join me. Club Mjolnir," she clarifies. "And an interesting clientele. Several Avengers so far-- Thor included-- good food, strong drinks. I imagine you are at the height of fashionable places to be in the city, but it might still be enjoyable visit for you sometime?"

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna lets Silver take the tickets gladly, still smiling.

"Gems, huh? I can do gems."For a second it seems as though she is going to speak another strange word and cast another spell, but she seems to think better of it. Instead, she laughs lightly and waves a hand through the air: "But a cash transfer is probably better. My accountant already wants to hang himself after looking at my books.?

The question raises both her eyebrows, a mock-abashed look doing nothing to conceal the broad toothy grin beneath it: "Are you inviting me out for a drink, Silver?"She does away with the formalities just as easily as she adopts them. "How could I refuse? I'll be sure to see you there."

Silver Sable has posed:
"Well," Silver says, clearing her throat. "As I said, our business is good customer service. It is small matter to have gems appraised and transferred. Easier for clients in more resource rich nations."

She's stalling, putting her feet under her. Zatanna's toothy grin is met with a challenging uplift of her chin, hips angling away and Silver's hand resting loosely on her leading hipbone. It's a challenging sort of posture, tempered by a sly smile. "Well, miss Zatara," Silver says. "I suppose I am, if we are to speak plainly. Which is terribly gauche, as you are client. But," she allows, "I've been accused of mixing business with pleasure. A few stiff drinks at the nightclub won't compromise your security needs, I assure you." A smile, a real one, works over her lips. "As long as we discuss business, we can even expense the drinks. Americans, you have fascinating exemptions in your tax codes."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Ah, tax codes. Shadowcrest itself resolutely refuses to appear on the ledgers of the local council, and while Zatanna duly pays her income tax it is surprisingly little when she doesn't have to pay exorbitant fees on a mansion and grounds. She simply grins: "Oh, you have no idea."

"I don't have any issues mixing business with pleasure, as you can probably tell." For all the challenging posture offered her, Zatanna turns her own game up a notch. She leans against the wall with her shoulder, hips cocked out casually to one side.

"My business is my pleasure, after all. They say do what you love, right? A few drinks never hurt anyone and, no, they won't harm my security ... so long as my security consultant doesn't turn into a wild fan and break in."

Her smile wrinkles her nose and she winks. Then she's moving again, pressing away from the wall.

"You don't station guards on clients, do you? I've gotten a bit partial to my privacy and I'm not sure how well I'd take to someone patrolling the grounds. Well, most someones."

Silver Sable has posed:
"Would only break in to test security features," Silver assures Zatanna, matching that gimlet look with one of cool and supremely un-checked confidence. "Penetration testing. Making sure doors are locked, windows secured, dogs not fat and sleepy on gristly old beef cuts," she explains.

"As for guards..." A shoulder rolls under her overcoat. "Up to you. You said you weren't interested in personal security. So, we set up automated facilities."

Her grin spreads and she steps a bit closer to Zatanna with a skiff of heeled shoe to the floor. Arms fold loosely over her stomach. "Do not worry. I won't bill you my hourly for drinks," she tells Zatanna. "I've found that many zeroes in a row tends to make my clients unhappy," she advises the leggy entertainer.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"Feel free to test my defenses whenever you feel the need," Zee offers airily, waving a hand around her, "After all, if you're the one putting them in place then you're going to be the one most dangerous person to test them on. I'd be glad to know I paid for the best."

When Silver steps closer, Zatanna closes yet more of the distance in a wordless challenge. Like bouncing a tennis ball against a brick wall over and over a thousand times, just to see if she can wear it down.

"Believe me, I am the best drinking partner you'll ever have. By the end of the night, you'll want to pay me. Soooo ... " she turns a half-circle with a flourish, hair fanning out behind her. All the effort and charisma of her stage show put on for just one person. " ... let's just call it celebration of a job well done, hm?"

Silver Sable has posed:
"Hah!" Silver barks once, a laugh of sincere amusement. She moves past Zatanna; not circling her, but joining a common orbit around an imaginary center between them. "Celebrities. You have high opinion of yourself," the silver-haired mercenary tells Zatanna. "Symkarians are storied drinkers. We've put Asgardians under the table," she points out.

"And, it would be presumptuosu to have a drink in celebration so soon," she points out. Silver twists away, looking out a window with arms folding loosely under her breasts. "Much to be done to make this place safe. Locks, walls. Don't like to make guarantees, but... when I'm done? Sort of person who could get to you is same sort of person who could break into White House. And I'll give you plenty of time to arm up and respond as needed to anyone foolish enough to come over the back wall."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
"I wasn't talking about outdrinking you, darling," Zee turns quickly, her hair landing in such a way that it momentarily falls part way over her face, "Where's the fun in just sitting down and hammering back shots until you pass out? No, no. I'm talking about drinking with a Mistress of the Mystic Arts. A Lady of Illusion. Have any of your Asgardian drinking buddies plucked the moon out of the sky for you? Conjure up the ghost of Maria Callas to sing an aria? When we go out drinking it's going to be an event!"

Zatanna sighs at Silver's next words. Her eyebrows raise and that same amused expression continues to play across her features and tug at the corners of her mouth.

"I can't wait to see your work. It'll be nice to have that peace of mind after last night ... when can you start putting it all in place?"

Silver Sable has posed:
"Start tomorrow," Silver tells Zatanna, turning to face her again. "We will set up air defenses and scanners. Then work inwards, inch at a time," she says, a hand gesturing vaguely. "First, we set it up so you always know when somoene's crossing into your personal space. Alerts and alarms. We'll reinforce some points, make sure the doors can't be kickied down and the windows won't fall to the first thug to knock on them."

She lifts a brow at Zatanna. "You've got a good reputation for handling yourself. If you want a gun, we can get you one, but I imagine you'd prefer magic at hand. Still, not bad idea to put weapons at choke points in the house. It'll be part of the security package; you will not only have better walls and nightengale floors, but you'll know what to do in the event of invasion, fire, flood, catastrophe."

She smiles at Zatanna. "As I said, we are security consultants. Can't feel secure when there's a chance a stiff breeze will blow your bedroom window open."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna moves to the window, looking out to the Victorian gardens and the strange unmanned tools that seem to tend to them at all hours. She leans both hands on the sill, shoulders arching up behind her. Almost as if on cue she raises a finger to tap the glass, peering at it critically.

"Let me think on the guns," she answers, "I've never really used one. You don't tend to need them when you can say a word and have someone burst into flames. Or freeze in place. Or fall asleep. I have to think about that."

She turns, once again closing the distance between herself and Silver in a way she's made a habit of in the relatively short time they've known one another, "But everything else sounds good. I'll be here when your people show up. Just, uh, just make sure they don't try to get in without ringing the buzzer on the gate first. The wards mightn't be made for them, but they're unpleasant if you trip them regardless of how much hocus pocus you have in your bag of holding."

Silver Sable has posed:
This time, Silver turns and half-steps towards Zatanna when the magicienne moves closer to her. She crosses that midden line and moves into Zatanna's space rather abruptly, and despite the fact that Zatanna's got some height on her, Silver projects an utterly inviolable sense of self-authority.

"Don't worry. My people are very good about following instructions," Silver assures Zatanna. She stares her down, grey eyes matching Zatanna's sky-blue gaze. "They'll be in and out before you know it. Few hours, tops. And if anyone gives you any trouble..." She digs in her pocket for a business card, and holds it in the air between them. "My personal line. Call me. I'll make sure things are taken care of."

"Properly."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Nothing about Zatanna's reaction sugggests intimidation when Silver steps so quickly into her space. Instead, her eyebrows raise and her half-lidded eyes stare with full amusement into her's. When she lifts her hand to take the business card, a finger traces along Silver's own as she plucks it from her grasp. An accident. On purpose. It's only a momentary thing. Just as quickly as she takes it, the card is gone as though it were never there in the first place. Some sleight of hand putting it wherever it is she hides such things.

And then the game is over. She steps away and shows her guest and new security consultant towards the door, opening it and escorting her back out to the waiting Jeep. After Silver has gone, Zee stands alone in the driveway for a moment. The business card has once again appeared in her hand and she holds it up, looking at the number thoughtfully for a moment before vanishing it again with a little flick of her wrist.

Grinning, she walks back through the ornate doors of Shadowcrest as they slam closed behind her.