"Go on, get lost. Stop crowding around to watch. You wouldn't understand it anyway, so what are you gathering here for?"
Harley, sitting by the booth, felt like the crowd around her was making it hard to breathe. Impatiently, she waved them away.
"You could roast some marshmallows by the campfire, or tell a few more ghost stories like at summer camp. And you, Little Black Guy, I told you to use the Speed Force to find me a bottle of booze. Did you find one?"
"Where am I supposed to find alcohol? When you say find, you actually mean steal, right? I'm not doing that." Black Wally looked aggrieved. He was even starting to wonder whether he should be here at all.
This fast-food restaurant had no alcohol, only all kinds of soft drinks. If they wanted booze, they had to get it from another store.
But it was the middle of the night. What stores were still open? There were twenty-four-hour supermarkets, but they all had electronic inventory systems now. Without electricity, there was no way to swipe a card at the register.
Hearing Black Wally's words and seeing the helpless-child expression on his face, Harley shook her head in disappointment. She got up from the booth, poked Little Black in the head with a finger, and said:
"You're hopeless. You're Black. In a California supermarket, taking stuff worth less than 900 US Dollars isn't illegal. Hurry up and go."
"Huh? Is that really a thing?" The Black kid did not dare believe anything Harley said. He turned to Damian.
"Harley's statement is somewhat biased, because it is still illegal. Under California's Fourth Amendment, theft involving less than 900 US Dollars is not punished as a felony, only as a third-degree misdemeanor."
Robin folded his arms and leaned