Microfiction: Diana And The Donald

Diana and the Donald Somewhere in Gotham “Are you sure you want to do this?” Diana could hear the concern in Clark’s voice. He’d been at the Fortress of Solitude since the election, his immigration status uncertain. “Yes,” she lied. Her mother had prepared her for missions like this in the world of Men, but they were unpleasant. “Bruce got me an invite to the Tower. POTUS thinks I’m from the Greek government. Bruce let him think I’m interested in a private,” she purred, “diplomatic negotiation.” Clark guffawed. “It’s a good thing you can act.” “You aren’t wrong,” she replied, …