The moment Frank realized she had shot something, his arms were already halfway to his face. From years of practice, both here in and in the Dreams, his body had immediately slipped into a back stance that did him absolutely no good. The webbing attached to his forearm and shoulder and the next thing he knew, he was thoroughly bundled up strung up the side of the building.
This, Frank was certain, must have been how all those petty thieves felt when they were caught by Spider-Man. He sneezed, feeling just as dumb and idiotic-looking as those comic book dunces. He was also certain this was going to be hell on his sinuses.
"No offense, but I don't plan on learning that particular lesson." Even completely incapacitated and upside-down, Frank gave his captor a charming grin. It was difficult to make a career of being a reporter while minding his own business. Her masked visage swayed to and fro as he was swung. His stuffed sinuses did nothing to help his internal gyroscope and his stomach flipped. Hopefully she would stop swinging him before he was unable to keep the green out of his cheeks.
"I was saying," Frank continued conversationally, as if this were a perfectly normal occurrence. "You should put back the jewels you stole. Otherwise, I'm going to have to call the police." To be fair, getting placed in a tight spot was practically a normal occurrence for him now. First every night, and now nearly every other night, he and his brother were caught in situations just like this or worse in their Dreams. He would much rather be nauseous and swinging from the top of a building than having to diffuse yet another bomb on their kitchen table.