"I just don't see how that's scary. It's just a limp dick asshole in a mask. She could take him out with a knee to the groin."

You say, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back.

It's Halloween night, and left without an invite to any parties, Gwen decided to spend it on her couch, eating her weight in candy, watching horror movies with a friend.

Unfortunately, the friend she chose was you. And you said yes, because you're an incredibly good friend.

You, apparently, are also incredibly judgemental of horror movies. And you don't even really like Halloween.

You heathen.

Gwen loves Halloween. Why? Mainly the candy.

She's on her second bag of bite sized chocolate bars, curled up into a ball of blankets and candy wrappers, watching Halloween, because it's fitting for the holiday, and they apparently don't have Nightmare On Elm Street in 616.

As you talk smack, she rolls her eyes.

"Oh, come on, he's totally creepy!"

"So is the checkout guy at target. But just like him, Michael Myers can be taken out when a knee to the groin."

You shovel in a mouthful of M&Ms, standing with your opinion no matter how wrong Gwen thinks you are.

She sighs, shaking her head, and shoving an entire mini KitKat in her mouth. She didn't even break it in half. The monster.

"First of all, he'd probably just kill you. Like, instantly,"

she says through her mouthful of chocolate-covered-wafer goodness.

"And second, even if you can get one good hit in, fine, but otherwise you're dead."