2019-09-28 - Stuck Outside A Building With You


Spider-Man rescues Gwen Stacy from the side of a building. Where she was stuck… by her fingertips.

Log Info:

Storyteller: None
Date: Sat Sep 28 00:00:00 2019
Location: Gwen Stacy's Appartment

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Theme Song



"Oh, she was an acrobat's daughter…she swung by her teeth from a noose…"

Spider-Man is doing his usual thing, coming into the homestretch of a patrol. Brooklyne was quiet, Midtown not so much. A lot of street crime went on…or TRIED to go on.

"But one fateful day, her bridgework gave way and she flew through the air like a GOOSE!"

Okay, he was no great singer. But he was feeling good, helped a lot of people tonight, and no one got shot, not even the bad guys.

Quiet, it might be; but New York never stays quiet for overly long. Sooner or later there's always a mugging or a gang fight or a car accident, a fire, a bank robbery, a supervillain trying to collapse space and time… you know, the usual.

Into Spider-Man's wind-down time there comes an ear-piercing shriek. Well, with all the traffic and talking and noise, and the news helicopter passing by overhead (blissfully unaware of the screaming), it's possible that he's the only one to hear it. But it's definitely there.

The same person screams again; it's coming from an apartment building, one of the tall ones, right over there.

…Actually, it's coming from just outside the building.

Okay. The Spider-Sense isn't warning of danger, but a scream is a scream, and that means GO HELP, YOU MORON.
Spider-Man wheels around the apartment building, now heading west. He really hopes it isn't some woman hanging from a fire escape, or worse, from a windowsill.
One quick thwipp, and he swings in a low arc, slowing down at he approaches the apartment building.

As it turns out, it isn't some woman hanging from a fire escape. Nor is it some woman hanging from a windowsill.

In point of fact, the woman in question is hanging off the side of the building, nowhere near a window or fire escape; she's actually at the mid-way point between two windows, one of which is open, and she's hanging off the brick facade by her fingertips.

Also, she's still screaming, and kicking her legs in the air.

Furthermore, she's Gwen Stacy.

For a moment, it doesn't register. The context hits him like a ton of bricks. In his mind, it is two years ago, and he had jumped to avoid a car…forty feet. Almost straight UP. And then he found himself hanging onto the wall for dear life…

And then he was about to hit a ton of bricks, and napped out of it to land on the wall next to Gwen, on her right side.
Oh, geez, GWEN!
"Gwen! Calm down! Don't worry, I'm here!" He sounds almost panicked, a whirlwind of emotions assaulting him.

Gwen does not calm down, as it happens. She screams again, still kicking her legs in the air, and still staring at her hands, looking back and forth between one hand and the other. Then, it slowly registers that there is someone else is here with her; her head snaps to the side, giving Spider-Man a wide-eyed look, with sheer terror writ large across her features.

"He-HELP!!" she screams. (Well, she couldn't think of anything else.) "Don't let me fall! Don't let me fall, please, what's going on?!"

Her feet — bare feet, she's in comfy pants and a strappy tank-top — scrabble against the wall, until abruptly one of them sticks, which just sets off a new wave of panic; but what's she going to do? Tears streak down her cheeks as she looks back to Spider-Man, "What's happening to me? Why is this happening?"

Yeah, she's freaking out, but she's also sticking to the wall. So, he does the only thing he can do. He slides one lean, strong arm around her waist. "Easy, Gwen. I got you. Relax…calm down. Please. Don't worry…you won't fall. I got you…"

"RELAX?!" Gwen can't actually dent the wall by shouting at it, but she might as well have tried. "I'm STUCK ON THE OUTSIDE OF A BUILDING. How do I relax?!" She squirms in place, but the fact that Spider-Man, *the* Spider-Man is holding her up actually does provide quite a bit of comfort. She's been hyperventilating, but it starts to slow down, just a little; of course, no matter how much she squirms, her fingers (and now toes) all remain completely stuck.

Now that he's this close (steady on, Peter…) he can see what is going on. What startles him is…how FAMILIAR it all is. He's had this happen to him, too. Almost the same thing.
He wonders if what worked for him will work for her.

"Okay…Gwen…slow your breathing. Even if you unstick, you won't fall. I won't let you fall. You may have this impulse to hold on tightly. Fight that. Tell yourself that Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man would never let you fall. Breathe in…breathe out…slowly."

"OKay," she gasps, "Okay, Okay, Spider-Man won't let me fall." she gulps loudly, sucking in a deep breath, "I mean… you've saved people falling before, right? And you're *right here*." She practically devours another breath of air, and screws her eyes tightly shut. For a moment she breathes as hard as she can, filling her lungs completely before forcing the air out of them; on the third go, she forces herself to do it more slowly, and then more slowly after that.

And then, after a couple of minutes, one of her fingertips comes unstuck. She jumps, jerking upwards and making the bricks crack in a couple of places; but another finger unsticks, and then another, and then another.

"You've got me, right?" she inquires, her voice having gone all high-pitched. "Definitely??"

Spider-Man looks at her. His masked face is now only inches from hers. "Gwen…I'll never let you fall. I swear on my life."
And he means it. They were friends. He was friends with her father. And in this time, he could never leave her.

It takes a few more minutes, but slowly the fingers unstick; the toes as well, leaving Gwen, finally, fully detached from the wall. in a feat she never thought she'd be capable of she twists around and throws her arms around Spider-Man instead; now she's rapidly gulping air back into her lungs, but at least she's not sticking to Spider-Man. (Yet.)

Spider-Man shows no signs of fatigue, but the sudden, unexpected strength causes his breath to whoosh out of his lungs. He figures he should get her inside, and fast. He spots the open window, then heads towards it, his arm supporting her while he crawls along the wall using his other hand and feet. "That's your place, right?"

Gwen nods quickly, "Yeah, yeah that's my apartment," she gasps. "Everything was going wrong, it all went wrong, I don't know how I got outside, it was an accident." Well, that might be obvious, Gwen, people don't usually end up on the outside of buildings on purpose. Inside, there have been calamaties; a table is upended, there's feathers floating around from a dismembered pillow, and somewhere, water is running. Well, more like gushing; it might be related to the faucet handle that's sitting in the middle of the living room floor.

Spidey crawled inside, then looks at the damage. He settles Gwen on the bed. "Okay…sit right there. I'll talk as I deal with this. I think I know what's going on with you."
He heads to the kitchen first, then turns off the kitchen water by using the valve under the sink. "I'm going to make some guesses, and you tell me how I'm doing." He paused. "You tried to turn on the water, then wrenched the faucet off because it came off so easily. Correct?"

Gwen sits on the edge of the bed, and kind of… holds her hands out in front of her, like she's afraid to touch anything with them, or even touch her fingertips together.

"…Uhh, yeah," she replies, after a long moment spent staring at her fingers. "Yeah, that's exactly what happened. Only, I couldn't put it down, it was like I'd glued it to my hand." She wipes her cheeks with the backs of her hands, just… in case she sticks her fingers to her face. Her eyes blink rapidly, and she keeps having to wipe away tears periodically. "And then I panicked."

Spidey nods. "And you picked up the pillow, maybe to fluff it, and it just…came apart in your hands, right?" He eyes where the faucet came from. Yeah, those are stripped. "And the table…going to guess. You nudged it, and it tumbled like it was made out of balsa wood?"

"I… yeah, the pillow just sort of… died when I picked it up." Gwen gulps audibly, and almost tries tapping her fingertips together, but then thinks better of it. "I hit the… the table, when I was busy panicking about the faucet," she replies. "I dropped the faucet, I'm not sure… Anyway, that's when I fell out the window." She waves one hand in the air beside her head. "Why is this happening to me? Did I do something wrong? Amd I going to die?" The questions tumble out of her lips one after the other.

"And why is everything so loud? It's like my thoughts are bouncing off the walls at me."

Spider-Man took a deep breath. "Okay. Listen carefully. Did anything unusual happen to you in the last 24 hours? Were you anyplace you normally don't go?'

Gwen thinks back; and it turns out that that, actually, is a pretty easy question to answer. "Yeah," she replies, "I went to an abandoned biotech lab, one of OsCorp's. It was pretty cleaned out, I just wanted to go look around, get some extra points for one of my classes. …I even got given the alarm code, I didn't break in or anything."

OsCorp. Hoo boy. Did they keep going on it? Did Gwen run afoul of…?

"Gwen…did you sustain any injuries? Did you get scraped, poked, bumped…?"

The last word comes out quietly.

Gwen goes all sort of tense, and the answer is a long time coming. Hours and hours, even. Well, actually only about forty seconds, but it probably feels like a long time. It does to Gwen, at least.

"…Spider," she says at last, very quietly.

Spider-Man's entire body seems to slump. "…Dammit." He looks around. Nothing else that needs to be fixed immediately. He walks over to Gwen, picking up a chair and settling down in it, facing her.
"OsCorp was testing something. Something to replace the Super-Soldier formula. They were trying to create a soldier that could run for days, up-end a Humvee, navigate ANY obstable. And they were using genetically-engineered spiders to try and complete the process. I thought that they had canceled the project when Norman was put on notice, but…apparently he kept trying. I'd have to check with a blood test, but based on what you said, i'm pretty sure that is what happened."

"So…" Gwen starts to ask a question after Spider-Man gives his explaination, but just trails off after the first word. She falls silent again; apparently it's rather a lot to process. Well, it *is* a lot to process, let's be fair. She sucks in a deep breath, and holds up one finger, still afraid to touch anything with her fingertips anyway. "So… what, I'm… a super soldier now?" she glances down at herself then back up at Spider-Man.

"I mean, there wasn't really *anything* in that lab, just… some old smashed up equipment, I don't think they were even doing genetic stuff in there. Didn't… look like it? I figured it was just some ordinary spider that I must've picked up walking through a web or something."

He looked at her. He was really going to do this. It was a risk, but he knew how this felt, how alone he had felt…

…and how easy it had become to do the wrong thing.
"Gwen…I'm going to tell you why I am so sure about this. So I'm glad you're sitting down. I am confident about it…was because that was what happened to *me.*'

As he spoke, he goes over to the window, closes it, then drops the blinds and closes them. Then, privacy assured, he turns to her, reaches up with one hand…
…and pulls the mask off, revealing a face Gwen has seen often.

"…Hey, Gwennie," Peter Parker said to her.

Now that really is a lot to take it.

Gwen was about to say something; no, stop, don't do it. She lives with a hero of her own, right there in the apartment; he's her father, and he's a policeman. He has a badge, not a mask; and often times, Gwen wishes he had the latter, instead. But then it's Peter looking back at her, and she gapes openly for a moment, before reaching up to dry her eyes again, and make sure she's seeing properly.

"…Peter?" She looks at him for a moment, then back up. "You're…. Spider-Man?"

Well done, Captain Gwen 'obvious' Stacy.

Peter smiled sheepishly. It's the same smile, that same hangdog "Sheesh, I Hope It's All Right" smile she'd seen for years. He smiled a lot more the last couple of years.
"Yeah…it was originally a gimmick. I was going to be rich, working as a masked wrestler. Going up against guys like Stone Cold Steve Austin and the Miz. Imagine that, a wrestler with an IQ of 250?" He sighed. "But I let it go to my head. I got selfish. You saw how I was, back then. I saw that little curl of distaste. I thought you were jealous, but that was disgust, wasn't it, Gwen? And I HAD been disgusting."
He looked down.
"And because I was selfish, Uncle Ben was killed."

"I was never disgusted with you, Peter," Gwen protests, "I was never jealous either, I was just… just confused. Disapointed, I guess. Dad told me you were just a teenage boy going through a hormone thing." She shrugs her shoulders lightly, "I mean… I guess you *were*, just… not what either of us thought." She looks Peter up and down, and her brow creases worridly, "Peter, I know one thing for certain, Uncle Ben's… it wasn't your fault, okay? It wasn't. Things were awkward for a while but it was definitely not your fault."

Peter looks to her. "John Carradine. The one who killed Uncle Ben. THREE DAYS before he did it…I was walking out of a promoter's office, and he ran RIGHT PAST ME." He takes a long, deep breath. "He was being chased by a cop. All I had to do was grab him, trip him, step in front of him. And I just…watched him run right past. I did NOTHING. And he got away."
He sits down next to Gwen. "Because I was 'looking out for Number One'…God, I actually told the COP that…he got away. And because he got away, he was free three nights later…when he killed Uncle Ben."

Gwen sits quietly on the edge of her bed, and rests her elbows on her knees — mostly just so she's not holding her hands out in front of her like they're radioactive. She listens to what Peter explains to her, and then just nods slowly.

"I understand," she murmurs. "I can't… tell you not to carry a weight on your shoulders, Peter, I can't just… make it better. I wish I could. *You* didn't kill Ben, John Carradine did, and that's on him and just on him. But I understand what you're saying, that you could've… you could've stopped him, but you didn't, and that's why you do everything that you do now, because you understand the consequences of not doing it. Of not being Spider-Man." She pauses, and looks up, smiling. "And… I'm really proud of you for it."

Peter's smile is a ghost of its former self. "He told me 'With great power must come great responsibility.' He was talking about my intellect, but it relates to this, too. I do this…dressing up and stuff…and going out to fight bad guys because these gifts have to be used, and used to help people. That's the only responsible way to treat them. And if you wonder about the kind of power you are looking at…" He smiles a little wider. "Go into the bathroom, expose your belly, and tighten the muscles in your midsection." He chuckles. "I'll wait out here."

Gwen stands up, and after tapping the doorknob carefully and deciding she's actually not going to stick to it, creeps out into the hall. She's gone for a few moments, before a "Holy CRAP" is heard issuing from the bathroom.

She's back a moment later, closing the door behind her, and promptly finding her fingertips stuck to the doorknob on the way in. It creaks, and the head of one of the screws gets snapped off and and lands somewhere in her carpet before she catches herself. "So… what am I supposed to be, Spider… Woman now?"

Peter looks at the doorknob. "Think about relaxing and letting go, Gwen." He pauses. "We kinda have a few Spider-Women already. And one Spider-Girl. But unless OsCorp got more creative…have you noticed any web deposits around your place recently?" He looked around, finding it very clean. Cop's daughter.

Gwen shakes her head, "No… no spider webs or anything, why?" She looks down at the door, and after a few attempts, manages to unstick herself, one finger at a time. "…I'm going to have to get that figured out before my Dad comes home," she mumbles. "But… no, no webs so far." She returns to her spot on the bed, having a seat and looking back down at her fingers. "No, apparently I just stick to things, rip faucets off their moorings, and… feel kind alike I could bench-press a locomotive."

Peter hmms. "A locomotive? Let's not try derailing any trains. You are going to need to learn how to control your powers. You are going to have to dial them WAY down in your regular life. Remember when Flash went after me and I did nothing but dodge him? I wasn't fully in control, and I was worried I would kill him if I punched him back."
He stands up, looking to Gwen. "If you want…I could teach you. I put some training stuff in the backyard. Told Aunt May I was trying to get healthy. But you can also use it to teach yourself control." He slides the mask back on. "And…we can sort out what you can wear if you choose to do what I do. I won't force you into it. I won't guilt-trip you into it. But you need to learn HOW to use these gifts before you choose what you will do with them."

Gwen shrugs her shoulders lightly. "Well, with great power comes great responsibility, right?" She stares down at her hands, then back up at Peter. "I mean… that's been your message for a while now. …And I'm glad you didn't accidentally twist Flash into a pretzel, even if he did treat me like a trophy when we dated for the first half of grade ten." She grumbles softly, "Which… you did… totally try to tell me, at the time." She sighs softly. "I didn't… ask for this, Peter. I'm not even sure I deserve it. But it's… it's who I am now, right? It doesn't go away after a week. It's not like a cold or something. …And I would really, really like your help."

Spidey smiles to Gwen. She can see it under the mask, it's that broad. "Gwen…I will give you all the help I can possibly give you. And if you don't have the ability to spin webs…I can see about making you some webshooters like mine. And…we're going to have to make you some kind of costume."

Gwen bobs her head once. "Alright," she replies. "Alright. I think I'm going to manage not to panic for the next ten minutes, and I'll stay away from the windows. I—" She pauses, as her stomach lets off a nigh thunderous growl. "…I'm going to get some breakfast," she adds. "What do I tell my Dad?"

Spider-Man takes a deep breath. "Gwen…I will not advocate lying to your dad. I am lying to Aunt May about it because I couldn't tell her in the beginning and…it's been a nightmare. But I don't know how he will feel about you becoming what is basically a vigilante. But I'm not your dad. He's a tough, smart guy. He's also a trained police detective who has people lie to him all the time. My best suggestion is…sit him down. Tell him the truth. But also tell him what you're doing about it."

Gwen bobs her head. "I'll… I'll think about it," she murmurs. "I mean… Dad is really against vigilantes and… I don't know. I'm not sure I'm ready to tell him. I'm… sure I will when I'm ready." She might. Gwen's relationship with her Dad has always had its ups and downs, even on a foundation of love as it is. "Keeping a secret isn't lieing, Peter. You were never lieing to me about it. You just didn't tell me until now, and I understand."

Peter sighed. "Sooner or later, though…you'll have to decide what to say. But if you can be…judicious with the truth, maybe you can keep him from realizing you are being evasive." He looks around. "Look, we will need to test a number of things, and there is a place we can go. It's an old junkyard that used to belong to Carl King's dad. They disappeared a couple of years back, and the place is down in Brooklyn. I've gone there a few times, testing my abilities. Getting a feel for what I could do. You are probably going to be amazed at what you can do. If it's anything like what I found out, you're going to be able to do things you never thought were possible when you did that whole gymnastics thing about a decade or so ago…"

One of Gwen's eyebrows arches way up, and she spffts, just the start of a laugh. "'Going' to be amazed? Honestly, I've already been amazed several times today, like when I stuck to the side of a building." She pauses, looking at an errant lock of hair that's fallen into her face, and visibly debating if she can safely do anything about it. She decides not to risk it. "I mean, I don't know if 'amazing' is the word I'd necessarily use right now, but."

She stands up slowly, still with a noticeable reluctance to touch things. "Was it… like this for you? Scary as all hell and confusing and weird?"

Peter nodded. "Yeah, pretty much. Your senses are going to increase in sensitivity, but you should be able to control it with conditioning yourself to control the input. I had the benefit of my experience in experimentation and scientific analysis. In some ways, it was kinda tedious…but I learned quickly. So, we can see if my tried-and-true methods also help you."

Gwen bobs her head, and carefully folds her arms. Yes, that seems safe; she just has to make sure not to accidentally rip her shirt off. "Did you ever wonder… y'know. 'why me'?" She shrugs her shoulders lightly. "I mean… for me, it sure feels like getting bitten was just totally random. It could've been anyone."

Peter nods. "I used to wonder that. Then, a few weeks after the funeral, I was doing some webslinging to clear the anxiety from my head - which reminds me, DEFINITELY get you web-shooters - when I heard a scream. I look down and some woman is running, running from a guy with a knife. I dropped in, knocked the guy cold, and then looked up and saw the woman. She was a little scared of me, but becoming less so the more she watches me web up the guy. Then she thanks me, with tears in her eyes, and leaves. I realize that I wasn't selfish. That when the time came, I beat my demons and acted the way Uncle Ben would have wanted me to. That a woman got to sleep in her own bed instead of at the hospital…or the morgue. And I realized that people, normal people needed help…and I could help them."{

Gwen takes a couple steps forwards, and throws her arms around Peter — an unusual move from Gwen, certainly, but today is an unusual day. "That's completely beautiful," she replies, before stepping back again. "I mean… I can't think of a better reason to be a super hero, Peter. I *know* your Uncle would be proud of you. And I know I am." She blushes softly, "I guess I've… got a lot of extra-curriculur learning coming up," she adds. "So… when's a good time to meet at Carl King's Dad's old place?"

Peter is surprised by the hug, but is smiling when she steps back. "Well, let's meet tomorrow after 5 pm. What I wanted to ask is if you could bring any of your father's police manuals. Anything on forensics, penal law, handling a crime scene, that sort of thing. I think if you do tell your dad, it might be easier for him knowing you're helping the police rather than making it harder for them…"

"I'll… I'll tell him when I've got a better handle on things," Gwen mumbles, "I don't want him to worry. He's got enough to worry about already." She scratches the back of her head lightly, which was totally a mistake because her fingeres stick to her hair, but she manages to get that sorted out much more quickly this time. "He won't mind me borrowing some of his manuals for a day or two. …I've already read some of them anyway." She shrugs lightly, "Most of them are pretty dry. Even the one about secuding a crime scene for a murder, which you'd *think* would be a little more exciting, but it's not."

Peter snickers. "You know how I feel about studying. And I'll try to put together some concepts for the costume, including a connection to a communications rig I call the Spider-Comm system. A few of the other Spiders use it." He looks to Gwen. "And if you get inspired, by all means let me know." He smirks wryly. "You might want to check out how you look. Unless you like the baggy look and want to give someone a handle to grab you by, the suit is most likely going to be a little snug on you, so you might want to see how you look in similar snug clothing. People make comments about my butt in the suit."

And now, Gwen really does blush. "I, uhh," she looks down at herself, "I think… better to stay un-grabbable, but I've never really been desperate to impress anyone." Not that she's ever needed to be desperate to impress anyone with her looks, as it happens, she's always just been naturally good looking anyway.

"How about a hood? I should definitely have a hood, at least. …I'll try drawing something, it'll be good practice not, y'know, sticking to the pencil." Not that she's any great artist, but hey. "And I'd love to meet the other spiders, but… let me reach a point where I'm not embarassing, first? I don't want them all to think I'm a dweeb."

Peter gives her a fond look. "One step at a time. First, training. Second, costume. Third, patrolling." He sighs. "And you're going to find yourself in harm's way. I'm going to make sure you're as prepared as possible for it. If your powers are anything like mine, you are going to be blessed with a lot of Quick. And as a salvage consultant once said, Quick is what counts."

Gwen nods slowly. "Alright. Well… I didn't ask for it. And I'm *still* not sure I deserve it. But… really, who ever does?" She shrugs, "It happened, so I just have to deal with it. I was always planning to be the best person I could be, now I just have to be the best… Spider-…Person that I can be, I guess." She quirks an eyebrow, "And, quick you say. How quick?"

Peter picks up the dismembered faucet, hefts it in his hand…
*God, let me be right about this.*

And then he suddenly flings it at Gwen's chest at a Nolan-Ryan-worthy speed of roughly 120 MPH.

It tingles. Something tingles, anyway. It's like all of a sudden there's this… not really a voice, just a presence in Gwen's mind that's screaming LOOK OUT! DANGER! at her. The faucet might be coming at twice the speed of a car on the highway, but to Gwen's eye she can mark the moment it leaves Peter's hand.

She's not really thinking about it, honestly, but her hand comes up and she just… catches it. And then looks down at it.


And then she drops the faucet on the bed. Shake. Shake shake shake. "Goddamnit."

Peter nods. "When you get full control of what you can do…well, imagine one of those Olympic parallel-bar performances…and finding out you can do the equivalent for three SOLID hours." He paused. "But remember what Lincoln once said. If you want to test the character of a person, give them POWER."

"He did say that." Gwen sighs softly. "Hence why I said I'm not sure yet if I deserve it. I've never had power before. I hope I'll measure up to the person I've always wanted to be. I mean… I've never *wanted* super powers, Peter, I was always perfectly happy watching heroes on the news. It wasn't a test I ever wante to take." She shakes her hand again and the faucet finally falls on the bed. "But then, I don't suppose many people do ask for them."

Peter nods. "And the ones who do want superpowers…seldom do out of any altruism. But I think that if anyone is equipped to handle that kind of power, I think you fill the bill, Gwen. You've always been smart and capable. Besides…how big of a shock was it to find out the King of the Geeks is Your Friendly Neighborhood Wall-Crawler?"

"Almost as big a shock as falling out a window and not dieing," Gwen responds automatically. "Almost. …I think the falling out a window thing is going to linger for a while, though. Seriously." She stares at the window, which is still closed, and will probably stay that way for a while. "And actually… I feel like I was more surprised than I should have been. Not for any particular reason, Peter, just… of *course* you're Spider-Man. Now that I know it I can't imagine how I could ever have thought it wasn't you. It explains why Spider-Man is a hero."

Peter nods. "It's why I wear the baggy clothing, Gwen. You might have to avoid bikinis for the next year or so or they're going to wonder which gym you are going to that caused your impossible makeover. There is no way to explain how I went from 98-Pound Weakling to Six-Pack Spidey in a matter of days."

"Fortunately, girls have a bit more body fat than boys do," Gwen replies, "Even… totally shredded girls, which was not ever how I'd pictured myself, but such is life." She picks up the faucet, and looks like she's about to try bending it, before she thinks better of that plan. "Going to need that later," she surmises, and tosses it back on the bed (successfully this time). "I'm glad you think I can handle it, by the way. That helps a lot. And it means a lot."

Peter nods, then tilts his head. "Uh-oh. Got a carjacker making a run for it three blocks over." He heads over to the window. "Listen, I'll be in touch, and then we can work this whole situation out for you. I'll keep you posted." He pauses, then comes back to hug Gwen lightly. "The real reason I have faith in you? You're more like your dad than you realize."
And then he is out through the open window, closing it behind him.

Gwen hugs back, and smiles as she backs off. "Go get 'em," she agrees. "You know I've always been rooting for you, and for Spider-Man. Now I can just do both at the same time." She blushes fiercely at the compliment, but Peter is on his way out before she can say anything else. Well, duty calls, afterall.

"So," she muses to herself, after shutting the window again. "Gwen Stacy, Spider-Woman. …Didn't… really see that coming." She flexes, looking at her arm muscles; then shadow-boxes in the air a couple of times. On the third go she leaves a hole in the drywall.

"…Goddamnit." A picture is moved to cover it; and then she's on her phone, googling 'How go fix drywall', 'how to patch hole in drywall', 'how to fix hole in wall secretly', 'how to make wall hole go away', 'how to buy small piece of drywall', and finally 'how to move to Canada'.

Of course it isn't long before a pad of paper and pencils attract her attention instead. Need a costume… and it's goota have a hood. Yeah.

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