Rooms

[After seeing this.]

[Call to Peter P]
[Ring!]

[During this.]

[Locked to Bobbi M]
Bobbi, I need your help.

[Locked to Peter P]
Peter?

ETA: [Locked to Tony S]
Tony.

ETA 2.0: [Locked to Jason T]
Jason, hello. Peter suggested I contact you.

[Post-Arkham Ka-blooey; a few days after the fact.]

awww! i didnt get my nails done 💅😭

[Flash didn't want to wheel his ass all the way to Stark Tower and he knew being with Venom for a little while would make him feel better. The alien that most would classify as a monster hung from his closet like a drooping wilted flower and when he reached for it, the black tar suit made a soft whining noise. It knew what happened and it didn't surprise him that it missed Gwen Stacy. It had been with Flash and Gwen for years now. Long enough that if Flash was the one who died, he'd want her to have Venom. He was sure that the two would eventually learn how to balance each other out.

But, all of that didn't matter. Gwen was dead just like fate had told him and now it was time to make sure that all the things she cared about didn't get hurt. Jason, Hels, Pete and Harry were Flash's responsibility now. He'd need help, of course, that was why he went to Steve. If anyone could bring everyone together, it was Captain America, right? Flash thought he was being really sensible, that if Gwen was around she'd be proud of how he was handling it. Hell, he hadn't cried and when Hels asked if he was angry, he really wasn't. Anger lead to trying to find something to blame and in the end there was only him. Just like with the first MJ. It was Flash's fault for letting this happen to the two women who meant the most to him. Yeah, regret was the only thing he felt.

So, he put on the Venom suit, stuffed his dufflebag full of clothes and strapped his folded wheelchair to his back. Flash took his time swinging there, talking to Venom as he went. When he landed near Stark Tower, he slipped into an alley and let Venom morph so the only thing that was symbiote was his legs. T-shirt, jacket and then black pants that looked like jeans but under closer inspection were made out of material that moved on its own once and a while. He walked to Stark Tower, went through security and then made his way up to the living area. Once the elevator dinged he stepped out and gave a:] Yo?

[Public]

I met a man today who said he was locked up in Arkham before hell opened up. He knows fairies, met them when he was a child and learned how to draw circles for them. He told me half of his fairy friends died in Arkham, the others barely escaped with their wings attached. Then he reached into his pocket to show me one of them. There wasn't anything there, of course, but I pretended to say hello anyway.