Gwen really did not like the idea of someone out there knowing everything about them all. It'd be one thing if these comic books were written purely for entertainment purposes. That wasn't a big deal to her. Was she overly enthusiastic about it? No. But it made sense. People liked to sensationalize super heroes. It made her wish she could talk to Samantha back home and ask her if the stories Steve Rogers wrote about her were real or not. But she also kinda wasn't sure if she wanted to know.
Although she'd not really given any of them a thorough read just yet, some of the pages she'd skimmed showed conversations between people. Gwen was kind of a lone figure in her world. That is, most of her time spent as Spider-Woman, she was operating alone. And even when she wasn't being a Spiderling, she was by herself a lot because she'd shut out so many people in her life. If she were to find a comic about herself and saw pages with her inner monologue written and the words were actually true, well, that'd be freakish as hell and she'd definitely be well on her way toward panic-mode. Because seriously? Yikes. Why would anyone want to read her thoughts about extreme guilt and her craving for corndogs?
"I don't know," she said. "No one here seems to know we're.. them." She gestured by waving her hand at the books. "Maybe, er, maybe we should just look for more shirts and step away from the creepy unauthorized biographies."