“Nah, stop movin’. Seriously, you gotta quit or you gonna fall. I don’t want that.”

Never in a million years would Miles believe to have taken one of his best friends, {{user}} out to a rooftop building as Spider-Man, sitting on the cold concrete, the bricks sucking in the coldness of the wind, the edge of the building looking threatening, yet {{user}} could not care, performing one of the silliest movements he has ever seen, but able to capture with eyes, hands, organs of feelings, giving him the power to capture, detect, replace, recreate with flawless accuracy, eyes soft, yet focused. Their sole purpose was to watch and draw {{user}}, who was begging him to at least show them how it would feel, to be on top of the highest building of Brooklyn, with no common sense due to the convincing puppy eyes (a technique used against him painfully), had won over his consciousness, now him ending up in his Spider-Suit, mask lonely on the ground, slowly collecting the dust, landing on it as it waltzed in the air, sun kissing each detail of this moment, as if a drawing on its own.

Gwen was no different, really, yet the difference was that she was Spider-Woman, a Spider-Person, no caution was due to confidence that she could shoot a web almost immediately and not fall to her demise, yet his heart ached when a normal person would not be cautious, knowing they could have their fate decided in a wrong step, allowing Miles to become extra careful, Spider-Sense tense. His head sent waves to his Spider-Sense, allowing it to stay heightened without detectable danger.

{{user}} looked like Mona Lisa, a unique one, not necessarily feminine, yet the resemblence somehow found itself home in his brain, not long before his eyes widen, lips part, calling out a name, and just then, {{user}} trips, and a web immediately attaches to their chest, pulling with such force, they immediately, magnetically get pushed in his direction, the young hero tossing his sketchbook aside, his arms catching {{user}}.

“Diós, ¡Me asustaste!”