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On second thought, maybe Kori shouldn’t have kissed the one person aboard the ship who knew entirely too many languages. Maybe that’s why they’re in this pickle now.
At least, that’s what Dick’s thinking as he witnesses the rather painful conversation between Kori and Donna.
“The—the plant eater,” Kori struggles to describe, waving her hands madly in frustration.
Donna blinks at her. “Vegans?”
“No,” Kori huffs. “Not human.”
Dick sympathizes—it’s hard enough in his own brain, being fluent in ten languages and passable in another ten. And he grew up in the circus, speaking Rom to his parents and then French to Pop Haly within minutes of each other. He can’t imagine what it must be like for the space-alien-princess who kissed the first person she saw to gain the ability to speak their language, and instead she got—whatever Dick has in his mind. A hurricane of different languages all at once.
“The loud things,” Kori tries to explain. “The ones that go—“ she then proceeds to make a near inhuman noise that vaguely sounds like either a motorboat, a race car, or a dying cat.
Donna looks like she’s in agony. “A vibrator?”
Dick chokes on his own spit, immediately turning three shades redder. It doesn’t help when Kori momentarily pauses from what she was saying to tilt her head innocently. “What’s a vib—“
“Okay,” Dick quickly interrupts, still coughing. “What are you trying to say again, Kori? Maybe I can help.”
Kori brightens. “Oh, yes! Would you? You are more familiar with the English than I.”
Dick tries to get his blush under control. Despite what their initial meeting would have people believe, he and Kori aren’t an item yet—if they ever will be. He just thinks she’s pretty, is all.
And she’s also eight feet tall with very poofy hair. And the ability to pick him up like a backpack and fly him around while shooting green blasts from her hands. What more could he want?
“Do you know what it is in another language?” Dick asks, getting a hold of himself. “I mix them up all the time, too.”
Kori pauses to think about it. “Like—like uno zamboni, but for—for the green friends.”
Okay—that’s not very helpful at all.
“Uno zamboni,” Dick repeats in Italian. It’s a strange word for her to remember. “A zamboni for… green friends.”
Kori solemnly nods. “The little green fur on the floor.”
Dick stares at her. It can’t be—“Do you mean… a lawn mower?”
“Yes!” Kori beams at him with the brightness of the sun, and it’s almost enough to take away Dick’s incredulity at her apparently inept ability to describe a lawn mower. “A lawn mower!” Never mind why she was talking about lawn mowers in the first place.
Donna’s massaging her temples. “Holy Batman,” she mutters, and Dick shoots her a betrayed look. “That was like pulling out an in-grown toenail. Do you have these language hitches often ?”
Dick grimaces. “Often enough,” he says sheepishly, then turns to Kori. “You’re doing great, though, Kor. English is hard for anyone, and you only started learning two months ago.”
She smiles at him, all sweetness and bright enthusiasm, and Dick has to force himself to get a hold of himself once again. “Thank you for your help, Robin. I will remember the word lawn mower now.”
“Least I could do,” Dick ducks his head. Why is he acting like a fifth grader with a crush? He’s normally so much better than this. He learned from Bruce Wayne (although, there’s nothing very cool about Bruce’s romancing when it comes to Catwoman kicking his ass.) “You kissed me, and all. I’m sorry you got all of the side effects with it, instead of, like, Roy.”
He immediately wants to hit himself in the head. Why would he bring up Kori kissing Roy? That’s the exact opposite of what he wants!
But Kori just looks at him puzzled, and shakes her head. “No. I’m glad it was you. As long as you can understand me—you do not mind, right? I am sorry I had to—“
“No!” Dick yelps, then glares at Donna as she fights back a snicker. “No,” he repeats, only slightly more composed now. “I’m glad it was me, too.”
Now, it’s Kori who blushes. She’s just so damn pretty.
“So,” he says, clearing his throat to get some of the hoarseness out. “What were you saying about the lawn mowers?”
“Right,” Kori beams at him. “So Deathstroke said to me: ‘Your ass is grass, and I’m a fucking lawnmower,’ and—”