Green Lantern's Protégée

34: "Superboy would treat me better than this."

Mount Justice

November 25, 10:25 EST

"Gobble gobble," Wally grinned, popping another cranberry into his mouth. "I love Thanksgiving—ow!"

Wally rubbed his hand where M'gann telepathically slapped him with a wooden spoon. She giggled, "Those are for dinner, Wally."

"Yeah, Wally," Cyra said, her mouth full of whip cream she had licked off the pumpkin pie. "It's so rude not to wait for dinner."

"Cyra!" M'gann shouted, whipping her with a dish towel and the Green Lantern managed to dodge the murderous Martian. "No one else can eat the pumpkin pie with your tongue all over it!"

"That's the idea," Cyra said victoriously, her hands on her hips in a superhero pose.

"I would," Wally volunteered.

"You'd lick the gravy out of Robin's mouth and like it, so you're opinion is invalid."

Wally coughed up a cranberry, bracing the table to leap over and tackle the blonde to the ground if it wasn't for M'gann's palm stopping him in his place.

"No fighting on holidays!" she barked.

"Technically, Thanksgiving is only a holiday in America and considering I'm one-eighth French, that rule doesn't apply to me."

Wally's jaw fell open as he tilted his head as he stared at Cyra, bewildered. "I thought you were failing history!"

Cyra tapped her nose. "I'm a modern-day genius, I know."

Wally scoffed.

Zatanna sprinkled some spice onto the turkey, muttered a few words, and clapped her hands together. "There, seasoned to perfection."

M'gann lifted the turkey with her mind and slid it into the oven while talking over her shoulder. "Wally, I thought you were eating with your family."

"Oh, yeah," Wally realized. He swiftly shoveled more cranberries into his mouth and jumped up from his seat. "Dad will kill me if I'm late. See ya!"

And with that, the speedster ran out of the room in a ginger blur, causing Cyra's hair to blow up into her face and she pulled a face.

"Wally!" M'gann chastised, but the speedster was long gone.

Zatanna, who was staring intently at a bowl of tossed sadly, started to let out small sniffles.

"What's wrong?" Cyra asked.

"It's nothing," Zatanna shook them off. "It's the unions. These are all the things I used to cook for—" Zatanna paused. "This is the first Thanksgiving without my dad."

Cyra and M'gann both embraced the magician, Cyra squeezing them all tightly. "No worries, Z," she grinned as they groaned, practically being lifted off the ground. "We'll have our own little special Thanksgiving right here."

They pulled away from each other. M'gann glanced at Cyra suspiciously. "You're staying for dinner? I thought you'd be having dinner at home."

Cyra patted her stomach smugly and let out a burp. "Already did. There's a lot of us so we start our dinner at lunch. I finished earlier so I could have a second one here."

"You're not full?" Zatanna wondered.

"Of course not."

The two girls shook their heads at their blonde friend's iron stomach. What a Cyra thing to say.

"Conner?" M'gann asked abruptly. The clone was beginning to walk towards the door, Wolf trailing at his heels.

Conner froze. "Figured you wouldn't want my help in the kitchen. Remember last time?"