As if Diana hadn’t ever touched a greasy hand before. In truth, Diana would never forget the front lines of World War I, no matter how long her life droned on, nor the injuries that she had seen and tried to help with. Diana had been the fiercest fighter among the Amazons, and even she had been stopped in her tracks in the face of a real, actual war. She had not been alive to see the last time her people had engaged with the humans, but she imagined it to be similar. Anything she could do to prevent such things, she would. In any case, while she noticed that Thor wiped his hands, she didn’t understand that he’d done it on her behalf.
She nodded, then, because she believed him. Thor had not lied to her yet, that she knew, nor had he misled her. He had told her things that, if they were lies, were quite foolish to lie about, considering that not all of them made him look his best. Another thing Diana liked about him, his awareness that his failures were as important as his successes, for different reasons. That he could accept them and his part in them was unusual, and Diana liked the sense of responsibility that that implied.
Diana had finished somewhat quickly, as she didn’t eat much to begin with, and so she sat back in her chair and crossed her legs. Thor was staring at his food as if he’d never seen it before, and Diana, rather than asking questions, simply looked at him. Even in pajamas, there was something about him that called to her, though she was hard pressed to put her finger on it. He was gorgeous, and she could see that with her eyes, but she had seen plenty of attractive people. And his eyes were different colors.
“Hey, Thor? Can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer,” she explained, but he had already nodded his permission before she’d even finished asking, so with a rueful little smile on her face because she should’ve known that, she continued. “Why are your eyes different colors? Is that an Asgardian thing?”
She had no way of knowing the brown one wasn’t his, after all.