Paparazzi noted Facebook's reaction to the Twitter mention with interest, filing away that competitiveness (that Envy) for later. This goddess was new, so new and young, tender and vulnerable as she had once been, and she leaned forward, taking her feet off the desk and putting her hand outstretched on the smooth desk-top.
"I never had to wander much, sweetie. There was someone with me, from almost the moment of my creation, who guided me through it all." Diana smiled at the memory, a slow drawl and green eyes filling her mind. "What you need is a friend, and not the kind you add with a mouse-click."
She prayed to nobody in particular that her gamble would work, that the girl was as alone as any baby god with no established connections. Because no matter the outcome (and Diana would shape it, craft it with all the carelessness and perfection of a reputation ruined), having Facebook at her side could be nothing short of perfect. The perfect employee, the powerful god on her payroll.