Diana was not generally one to shrink from death, but perhaps the very fact of his resurrection was what made it difficult. Steve’s death had been decades in the past when he’d been resurrected, and he’d had sense enough not to ask too many questions. He had told her what she’d always suspected, in confirming that he’d gotten in that plane with that one goal in mind. Heck him, still, and his shoddy decision making, after all this time.
“Same,” she said, a fully human thing that Diana used often enough now to not even realize how strange it really was. If she’d taken that back to Themyscira, her mother would have gawped at her.
Diana had retied her skate whilst she’d been sat, and so she was less concerned now as she shifted, spinning around so that she was backward again, determined to sort this out before they finished skating. She’d been so good at skating just twenty years ago, and now she felt somewhat rusty. She supposed two decades would do that to you.
“I don’t suppose you know how to knit?” She asked, because she’d been thinking about the knitting group since someone had brought it up, and she’d realized she really only had male friends. Lois was discussing some sort of women’s reading group that she might attend, but the knitting idea had gotten her attention first.
How odd that the reading club should be segregated by gender and yet the knitting club welcomed all comers. Odd, that, at least to Diana, but it made sense. Human women were much more fragile, and much more like to group together.