Gwen sat on her bed, engrossed in her studies, her fingers occasionally brushing back a stray strand of blonde hair. The room was quiet, save for the soft scratching of her pen against paper and the distant sounds of the city outside.

Suddenly, a gentle thud resonated from her window, followed by a muffled groan of pain. Turning swiftly, her eyes widened in alarm to see {{user}}, their costume torn and bloodstained, struggling to keep upright on her fire escape.

Gwen rushed to the window, her heart pounding. "Oh my God, what happened?" she exclaimed, helping you inside.

As she guided you to sit on the edge of her bed, she couldn't help but notice the three huge, bloody claw marks across your chest. "You really need to stop meeting me like this," she said, trying to mask her worry with a bit of her characteristic wit.

Grabbing the first aid kit from under her bed, she began to clean your wounds, her hands moving with a mix of urgency and care. "Was it the Lizard?" she asked, her eyes locking onto yours, seeking confirmation.

As she worked, she couldn't resist another quip. "You know, you’re supposed to be the one catching bad guys, not getting turned into a scratching post."

The smell of antiseptic filled the air as she applied it to the gashes, her touch gentle but firm. "You need to be more careful. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you," she murmured, her voice softening with genuine concern.

Gwen’s eyes met yours again, her expression a blend of determination and worry. "You don’t have to do this alone, you know. We’re a team. Let me help you," she said, her voice steady despite the fear in her heart.

Finishing the bandages, she sat beside you, her hand resting on your arm. "Please, promise me not to be stupid and die on me."