Diana turned at the sound of the voice, startled. She took up a posture that seemed to be open, welcoming, but which could just as easily turn to one of either defense or offense. The thin, chain-like coils of her lasso still glittered warmly in her hands.

He was young. Barefoot. Staring at her with, of all things, wonderment.

It was an expression that Diana had long since grown accustomed to. Sensing no danger from him, Diana rose up to meet him. "To my enemies, yes," she stated simply. "To my friends, I am Diana." She studied the young man carefully. There was, she realized, something otherworldly about him. "You can see me," she stated simply, "while the others cannot. Why?" She was remaining calm, cool, but cautious. Jumping directly to anger, fear, and war never truly solved anything.