And nor is the Flash, because he's zipping the last of the hostages out before
she can so much as call his name.

She's not that fast, but she isn't worried. Her body has also become accustomed
to -- oh no.

Flash is coming back to her side. She should have known he would, and even
though she knows that he's moving very quickly indeed, she feels as though
she can track every step, every inch he stretches as he reaches for her hand.
She knows what that means, too. There's no time.

She grabs his hand and flies them toward the vault, counting on man's greed
to construct *one* part of the building to be strong enough to handle any
eventuality. She has just enough time to pull Flash against her, to curl
protectively around him, before it seems the entire world is groaning in
protest.

She huddles over his body in the center of the vault, and waits for the sky to
stop falling.

Eventually, everything is silent, and she blinks dust out of her eyes and looks
around, seeing nothing but a grey wall of smoke. She takes a breath and
sneezes -- no, dust. She waits another moment, feeling Flash vibrate against
her, feeling his strange, inhuman *heat*, and then moves.

She hadn't had time to close the door behind them, but it's well and truly
blocked now. When she pushes at the debris, there's a groan from above. At
least some of the debris must be holding the ceiling up. Diana frowns, and
sets her hands on her hips.

"So I take it we're trapped?"

Flash is sitting tailor-style in the middle of a vaguely her-shaped clean space
on the floor. His suit is nearly pristine.

Diana, on the other hand... she frowns a little more and brushes ineffectually
at the grit covering her arms and uniform. "It appears so, Flash."

"Ah well. GL and the others know where we are. They'll get us out soon
enough." His voice is almost perfectly even. "Right?" Almost.

"Yes, they will," she says, and makes a point of adding extra conviction to
her own voice.

Flash nods at her and glances around the room several times, too fast to
count, vibrating just a little more than usual.

She'd never considered the idea that he might be claustrophobic, but it
makes a great deal of sense. For anyone who spends as much time in motion
as the Flash, limited space must seem like torture. "Flash --"

"So... wanna go through the safe deposit boxes and look for interesting
stuff?" His smile is sunny and wide and almost entirely false.

"It's all *right*, Flash. I under --"

He's in her space in an eyeblink, palms raised. "Hey now, Princess. None of
that. It's not real if you don't say it. That's the rule."

"Is it?" She's always liked the way Flash uses her title. From him, the
implied -- and necessary, or so her mother taught her -- distance is nearly
non-existent. From him, 'Princess' is more of a pet-name than a title. She
raises an eyebrow teasingly, and his smile *this* time is much better.

"Oh, yeah. Didn't anybody ever tell you? Nothing's real until you put
words to it. Or... like, *meaning*. It's why the rabbit can run across thin
air."

That... made less than no sense.

Flash grins at her, and she thinks if she could see his eyes, they'd be
dancing. "No Saturday morning cartoons on the Island of the Hot Babes
Who Can Beat Me Into My Component Parts, hunh?"

"Themyscira, Flash."

He rocks on his heels, laughing silently with the entirety of his body. "Sure,
sure. The *important* thing is that you and me have a *date* this
Saturday."

If she thinks about it, the nearly frenetic undertone to his voice would be
disturbing, and perhaps a little sad. But he doesn't want her to, so she
just cocks her head at him and taps her foot, pasting an exaggeration of
stern-ness onto her face. "Oh, *do* we?"

"Princess," he says, throwing an arm over her shoulders, "I'm going to
introduce you to the wide world of sugary breakfast cereal and
animation. It's gonna be *awesome*."

Diana ducks her head to hide her smile -- though not so much that Flash
won't be able to see it -- and listens for the sound of their team-mates. "I
look forward to it," she says, and puts her own arm around Flash's waist,
giving him a squeeze before he can protest.