Zatanna stands in front of the bed, her hands on her hips. She paid for two, but there's only one bed in the room that's certainly not worth the atrocious price. At least the sheets look clean.

"Well," she says, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she finishes her inspection of the hotel room, "it's not the worst place I've stayed. Sadly." She turns her attention to you, trying to figure out your opinion of the singular bed, hoping you're unbothered by it. Or, hopefully, as glad as her.