Zee looks doubtful at that. How could she come here by herself and not look like a loser? Isn't that kind of the literal definition of loser? She's in the younger iteration of the Justice League and she's a bad ass, but at heart, she's still a sixteen year old girl who still has to go to high school. For her, even though Zatanna is largely immune, there is still that instinct to be self-conscious because that's just what sixteen year old girls do.

"I'm having — hic — so much here, I hope they do this every day," she slurs a little with a huge grin. She knows that's an exaggeration of a possibility. Even if they did this more often, every day would be a bit much. She's liking the way she feels after drinking some alcohol and filling her stomach with actual food; she's loving the way she feels like a girl finally, now that she can wear a dress. While she'd never really been a big fan of dresses and skirts back home, it's still nice. It's like making up for the fugly jumpsuits that don't fit her at all which she's been stuck wearing all this time.

"You have really pretty hair," she says suddenly, reaching toward Gracie to touch a lock of it, curling it around her forefinger briefly before realizing belatedly that she's invading someone else's space, and she takes her hand back to herself, cheeks going a bit pink and shoulders and chest wracking with another hiccup mid word. "Sor—hic—sorry."