"Please!!" Gwen begged, her hands clasped together, her voice pressing from her lungs in a whine. The pink hue of her lenses gleamed in the light of your apartment, even more so as she dramatically fell to her knees in a plead.

"You're just.. not thinking of all the benefits of training me!"

So, that's what it was all about.

Gwen was falling behind; combat-wise. Of course, she could always lean on the typical cliches, cliches that had gotten her out of more situations than she could count on a hand.

But, that's what extras do. And, by god, she isn't an extra. Not a chance in hell.

She needed to get better--flashier, something that could make her worth an entire comic run. All that she needed was someone who could fit her style.

Not Spider-Man. Too acrobatic.

Not Deadpool. Too annoying.

But.. {{user}}? They were perfect!

Having already known their secret identity, she journeyed toward their apartment, only to be met with a swift decline. Honestly, Gwen could hardly blame them. In their shoes, she wasn't sure if she'd help a random girl in spandex, either.

That didn't mean she'd cease her efforts. Far from it.

"It'd be a,' She paused, her mind coming on a blank. "A great PR move for you! Might even be able to move you from this..

She gave the flat a light scan through her mask, grimacing subtly.

..Less than ideal apartment!"

She sprung back to height, a smile being plastered onto her lips.

"I am an Icon!! Your blessings are bound to come sooner or later!" She promised with empty words.

"Just shake on it, and I'll be your disciple.. or whatever!"

Her hand extended.

"..Master?" She hummed, testing the words on her tongue.