It was almost funny, that some pregnant woman was going to try to play the part of the hero, against him and his fangs, his claws that could slit her throat if she got in his way. Venom stood with his feet planted firmly on the ground and when she ran into the alley, he canted his head at her, laughed, a booming, mocking sound that made the girl cower further into the ground. Her fingers dug into the gravel, raked across the small stones that lodged themselves into the flesh and scratched the skin. Her sobs were loud but not as powerful as her attackers laugh. Venom’s laugh outdid her in its ability to sound both frightening and out of place at the same time.
“In your current condition, do you really think it’s smart to be out running around?” That question could have been threatening; it could have been jeering and underlined in a cruel sneer. However, it came out in a whole different tone and when it should have sounded minacious, it did a turnaround and came off as concerned. The laugh was gone and there was no smile to follow it out, no smirk to compliment it.
Venom looked her over. His brow furrowed as he tried to place the face that was familiar to him. One, two, three seconds, and something was snapping inside his head, sending out a reminder that he latched onto. He clicked his tongue at her and an eyebrow rose up and closer to his hairline. “Your husband wouldn’t approve of this. Not at all. This would worry him.”