❝I DON'T THINK YOU'VE EVER MET A WOMAN LIKE ME.❞

“SURE.” Damian replied as he looked to Diana. “How does that even happen? You must be lucky.” He replied as he reached for one of the water bottles since she had offered it to him.  He wondered what she was doing in New York, but it also wasn’t really his business to question it.

“I'm sure it was some kind of machine malfunction,” Diana started to say, but she trailed off before she could follow the thought any further. Her mouth spread instantly in a smile when she recognized the boy, now a young man, in front of her. She was always stunned at how quickly humans progressed through puberty; her own adolescence had felt as if it spanned for several millennia, and that actually wasn't an unfair estimation.

She was sure he got this sort of reaction all the time now, but Diana couldn't help herself. “Damian! I almost didn't recognize you.”

Walking through the streets of New York with his sunglasses and cap on he hadn’t expected to be stopped by a beautiful woman offering a drink. tipping his glasses gown a little he smirks at her. “It’s dangerous offering drinks to random people, you don’t know who you’re talking to.” He warns with a purr, obviously flirting with the women lowkey. 

For Diana, being told that something is dangerous is nothing new. She grew up hearing it, but at least when her mother and aunt would warn her of dangers, Diana could be sure that those were real threats. It’s always been harder for her to accept warnings in man’s world, where women are treated as if they’re made from porcelain.

Whatever trouble this man is promising, Diana can tell from his tone of voice that it would be of a certain nature. It’s all she can do not to roll her eyes at that; instead, she summons a friendly smile to answer.

“Well, I am new to the city, so I don’t presently have the luxury of avoiding strangers.”

Bucky looked around as someone called out to him, his expression softening when he realized the woman was just trying to be helpful. A lingering instinct of paranoia told him to glance at the water bottle she offered him, ascertaining that it hadn’t been tampered with. “Oh, uh, thanks,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a vending machine be that nice to me.”

"Perhaps it takes a woman's touch," says Diana, completely straight-faced. If she’s blocking his view of a sizable dent in the machine that may or may not have been there before Diana happened along, well, that’s none of his business anyway. (She didn’t intend to damage it; it’s not her fault these machines are so poorly made.)

“Anyway, I’m happy to share the spoils,” she smiles. “I’m Diana, by the way.”

                     “mhmm, yeah i’ll totally call you back in—-” gaze turned towards a woman, a rather attractive woman. the voice in the voice yelling his name causing him to break from his trance. “whenever i got the chance, got to go.” frustrated sigh escaped from the voice as he hung up. water— who even drank water? “sure, why not,” he told the woman grabbing the bottle from her.

“You’re welcome,” says Diana. It’s a breezy, offhanded remark, not the pointed admonishment some might turn it into. She isn’t easily offended, and certainly not by such a minor lapse in etiquette. "I'm sorry if I interrupted your call,” she adds, just for good measure.

Gamora only really stops in surprise, the woman’s calls standing out above the usual din of chatter in the area. “Oh - thanks, that’s very kind of you.” She shrugs and takes the bottle of water, tossing it between her hands for a moment as she watches the woman. “I didn’t realise machines did that here - offer specials. Strange.”

A hundred years ago, her jaw would have dropped the very second she set eyes on a green-skinned woman. Fortunately, Diana has since learned how to disguise her awe. She’s as curious about the world now as she was before she’d even seen most of it, but she’s learned how to satisfy that curiosity in less direct ways. Maybe later she’ll investigate sightings of green people in the city, but for now she's still pretending to be a normal person.

“Oh, they don’t actually do that.” Diana shakes her head. She's never had the best grasp of American humor, and sometimes her jokes don’t land the way she intended them to. She shrugs, adding, “I think it was just a glitch. But they shouldn’t be charging for water in the first place, so I’m not too sorry.”

She’s not planning on pestering a stranger with her strong opinions on the privatization of natural resources, but it’s not easy, keeping so much to herself. Every now and then, she slips up.