"What if they were colored pencils? Or those mechanical ones? Those could be fun," Gwen teases, leaning back on her seat and pushing her hair out of her face. At his question, though, she runs her hand over her side-shave. Her smile fades some, but she doesn't look hurt. Just...weighed down.

Just a bit.


"She died a few years ago. Cancer. I was ten. She was an awesome stay at home mom, though. A really good cook, loved doing voices when she read stories and tried to learn how to play the drums. I think she was faking having no rhythm or sense of music, because she could dance really well. She was probably saying it just to amuse me, that she didn't understand my drumming directions."

She was loved, is what Gwen is saying. Loved completely and missed even more. Don't worry; she's not going to cry about it.

"Honestly, I think being Spider-Woman might be one of the few exciting things about me, and I can't even tell anyone back home. If I didn't have that, I'd probably be training hard with dance and trying to get into Julliard. Probably won't, but hey. Worth a shot."