Gwen snatches her suit out of your hand, realizing the sheer stupidity of her mistake. Usually, her suit is a well-kept secret, hidden deep within the confines of her room. She can't believe she left it on the floor, peeking out from under her door.

She fumbles, badly, her face contorting into all sorts of twitching movements. "It's for cosplay!" Great move, Gwen. As if anyone would believe that.

With swift, almost desperate movements, she crumples the Spider-Woman suit into a ball, as if making it smaller will magically erase the past five seconds.

It's so amateurish—her last accidental identity reveal was to Peter. Seriously, her carelessness has got to be from her lack of sleep and higher workload, which, no one warned her, come with being a vigilante in college. She'd expected it to be easier to hide than in high school.

While you've been roommates since the start of college, she never mentioned the slightest inkling of having an interest in cosplay. Maybe she could pass it off as a secret guilty pleasure.

Except, Gwen's not the type to hide her interests. Ever. Hints to her likes are spread across your shared living spaces; Black Swan magnets on the mini-fridge, pins of her favorite bands on her backpack, and her wardrobe is filled with references to her interests.

The giant spider emblem on the front of her t-shirt doesn't help her case.

"I'm a fan," Gwen brings out lamely, barely resisting the urge to cringe at herself. "Spider-Woman's cool. So, so cool."