"Morning! We got lucky—we caught a ride," Steve said as the small boat finally reached the busy docks.
The harbor was already alive with noise. Ships creaked against their moorings, workers shouted over cargo, and thick smoke from factories hung over the city like a gray curtain.
Steve stepped onto the pier and spread his arms slightly. "Welcome to jolly old London!"
Daniel looked around at the endless rows of brick buildings and the heavy smoke drifting through the streets.
"You know," he said dryly, "compared to the London I'm used to, this one looks dark and dusty."
The city was still deep in the Industrial Age—coal smoke in the air, soot on the walls, the smell of iron and oil everywhere.
Diana stepped onto the dock behind them and looked around at the crowded streets, the gray sky, and the choking air.
"It's hideous," she said bluntly.
Steve scratched the back of his head with a half-awkward smile.
"Yeah… it's not for everybody."
As they walked Diana saw man and woman walking with hand together.
Diana paused on the crowded street, watching the people moving past them.
Her eyes fixed on a couple walking nearby, their fingers interlocked as they spoke quietly to each other.
"Why are they holding hands like that?" she asked, turning to Daniel.
Daniel glanced over briefly and shrugged.
"Because they're together," he said simply.
Diana frowned slightly, studying the pair again as they disappeared into the crowd.
"That is… strange," she murmured.
Daniel smirked faintly. "You've only been here five minutes. Give it time."
Diana looked at him thoughtfully.
"So you can hold hands if you are together?" she asked.
"Yes," Daniel replied.
Diana considered his answer for a moment, then reached out and took Daniel's hand without hesitation.
Daniel looked down at their joined hands and sighed.
"I think I need to explain more about human culture," he said.
Diana frowned slightly. "I already know about human culture."
"You know the theory," Daniel replied. "Practice is… different."
They continued through the crowded streets of London. Diana's curiosity quickly overwhelmed any attempt at subtlety. She stopped at nearly everything—cars, shop windows, street vendors—studying each new thing with open fascination.
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
"Steve," he said quietly, "we need to find her some proper clothes. She's attracting too much attention."
Steve glanced back at Diana, who was currently inspecting a passing automobile like it was a mythical creature.
"Yeah," he muttered. "I know a place."
A few minutes later they entered a clothing shop. There was a cheerful, round-faced woman who immediately froze when she saw Steve.
"Thank goodness you are alive" she blurted. "I thought you died! I almost vacated your office."
Steve waved it off quickly. "Good news—you still have your job."
Then he gestured toward Diana.
"Your current task is to find clothes for this lady."
The woman brightened and stepped forward. "Well, who might this young lady be?"
"Diana," Steve said.
She beamed warmly. "Lovely name. I'm Etta Candy."
She stuck out her hand proudly. "I'm Steve Trevor's secretary."
Diana tilted her head. "What is a secretary?"
Etta laughed. "Well, I do everything. I go where he tells me to go, and I do what he tells me to do."
Diana's expression turned serious.
"Where I come from," she said plainly, "that is called slavery."
There was a brief silence.
Etta blinked—then burst into laughter.
"Oh, I really like her."
Etta clapped her hands and immediately pulled Diana deeper into the shop.
"Well then, let's find you something suitable."
What followed was not simple.
Diana stood still while Etta piled dress after dress onto her arms, measuring, adjusting, and commenting nonstop. Daniel leaned against a wall watching the chaos with quiet amusement.
After a while Diana stepped out wearing a long dress.
She walked to the mirror, studying herself carefully. Then she lifted the heavy skirt with both hands to inspect it.
Etta's eyes widened instantly. "Oh—no, no, no!"
She rushed forward and pushed the dress down. "We do not lift dresses in public like that."
Diana frowned, still examining the garment.
"How do women fight in this?" she asked bluntly. "There is too much cloth."
Another outfit came next.
Diana stepped out wearing a tighter skirt and jacket. She studied it in the mirror, then suddenly lifted her leg as if testing a kick.
Rrip.
The fabric tore instantly.
Etta closed her eyes and sighed before walking back to the racks. "Right… we'll try something else."
As she passed Daniel, she glanced at him.
"You know, your partner is very particular."
Daniel smiled faintly. "She's not my partner. At least not yet."
Etta raised a brow. "You seem to be enjoying this."
"Maybe," Daniel admitted. "I've dealt with something similar before."
"Oh?"
"Someone who kept tearing every piece of clothing I gave her," he said calmly. "It took a lot of effort to make her wear anything at all."
Etta chuckled. "She sounds like a handful."
Daniel nodded. "Yeah. A handful, mermaid," he said, which only made Etta more confused.
Eventually Etta gave up on dresses entirely.
She returned with something simpler—a plain woman's coat with sturdy fabric and practical lines.
Diana put it on and moved her arms, testing the weight and movement. This time nothing tore.
Etta stepped back, satisfied. "There. That suits you."
Diana nodded. At least she could move in it.
Etta then turned to Daniel, eyeing his long brown trench coat. The fabric was worn in places, faded by time and travel.
"And you, sir? Would you like something new as well?"
Daniel glanced down at the coat and shook his head.
"No. This one stays."
He brushed a hand over the sleeve almost absentmindedly.
"It has sentimental value."
It was the same coat he had worn since the beginning of his strange journey—through worlds, wars, and places no one in this shop could even imagine.
*****
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