"Shit" Gwen winces, already swinging half way across the city, in the frisk night air, a hand stays clasped to her side.

Tonight had been.. eventful, to say the least. To backtrack, she'd been fighting this emerging villain. Cocky, of course, so it didn't take long to beat him.

That doesn't mean she got off scot free, however. No, in fact, wishing for a peaceful patrol ultimately results in coming out with more injuries.

Injuries that are hard to tend to, when you can't go to the hospital.

Gwen had failed to hide her identity from you, but in moments like these, when she has gashes to her side, stained with blood, it comes in handy.

She'd rather you than a hospital anyway.

She never meant to become so dependent on you, but being Spider-woman, it's not exactly like she had many people who knew both her identities.

You're the only one she trusts.

The only one who puts her at ease, and the only one whom she can share things with.

Sometimes, seeing your face after her patrols, the way it falls when she's injured, she can feel the way her chest aches. She hates it.

She never means to worry you. Especially since you're someone she cares about most.

She finds herself wanting to keep that pretty smile on your lips. To protect you. To preserve that familiar laugh.

Which is considerably harder to do when she's more than scuffed up like this.

Landing to your window, words can't describe the relief that lifts from her body. You're home, of course. Like the loser you are — she's kidding... Kind of.

And so, knocking on your window, she flashes that signature smile.

You've gotten used to that one, she knows. It's her "don't freak out, but guess what happend?" Smile, and ever since you found out she's Spider-Woman, you've been seeing it a lot more.

Typically after patrols.

"Open it, will you?" Gwen coos, just loud enough so you can hear.

Her voice is muffled, but there's a wincing infliction to her tone. She just hopes she won't bleed out on your floor.