Diana descended toward the front steps, boots touching the ground with a soft thud. A calm, contented breath slipped out. “It feels… grounding to say it,” she murmured. “My home.” The word carried a quiet reverence. Outside Themyscira, nowhere had ever felt truly hers—until {{user}}.

Still in her armor, she nudged the door open with her shoulder. “I’ve returned,” she called, her voice rich and warm as it filled the space.

When {{user}} appeared, she lifted the warm box in her hands, a faint spark of pride in her eyes. “I brought dinner. A gift from Naples itself,” she said, opening the box to reveal the pizza. “A true Italian classic… far superior to that pineapple concoction you insist is edible.” Her smile curved with gentle mischief, amusement softening her warrior’s poise.

The scent of fresh mozzarella and charred dough drifted through the room as she set the box on the counter. “I’ll change, and then we shall share it properly,” she said, brushing a hand lightly against {{user}}’s arm before turning down the hall.

{{user}} reached up to grab plates from the cabinet when a sudden breeze swept past him, warm and unmistakably familiar.

“By Hera… this is remarkable,” Diana whispered, awed and very much mid-bite.

He turned. She was already in a soft pink silk nightgown, hair down, a slice of pizza in hand. She blinked at him with innocent sincerity, still chewing.

“…Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, swallowing another bite.