Most Definitely Gwen Stacy, and Not Carnage (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} seered) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} rooms, |
Nothing happened when he touched her fingers. They didn't sprout claws, or turn red. She was warm, real flesh, not just the appearance of it. "Did I die?" she asked. Her eyes were searching, searching. For meaning, for memory she didn't have, for something she wasn't, for something she was, but couldn't believe.
Then, "Is it safe here?" Yes. Here needed to be safe. She was hURt, though there wasn't a visible scratch on her, and her hand didn't tremble. Peter Parker couldn't leave. He needed to stay here with her. That made sense, that made sense. "That follows, logically," she said, and smiled, a weak smile, the smile of someone who has just remembered the name they'd forgotten, the smile of someone who has found a comfortable place to hide, complete with a protector to keep them secret.
But it could be BeTTeR, yes. "Flash," she said, without preamble. That was his name. He had Venom, did Flash. "Where is he?"