He'd be lying if he said this was the first time he'd ever crash-landed into another universe. Hell, he'd be lying if he said something similar didn't happen just a couple weeks ago. Spider-Man's first thought is to be on the lookout for ol' Fishbowl or one of the ultimate Avengers, but the town around him isn't anything like he recognizes. At least no one's called him out by his real name (because that went so well last time), so that's a bonus.
He spends some time acclimating to his surroundings, doing a little digging on what the hell happens to be going on (again) with no real results, and eventually finds his way to the hotel, which is way nicer than any place he's ever stayed in, that's for freakin' sure. In fact, the luxury and limitless credit makes him just a little itchy under the spandex, sending him out for the rest of the evening, finding excuses in retrieving cats from trees and helping old ladies cross the street β that sort of thing β in order to keep him away.
Eventually though a spider's gotta catch a few z's, and Spider-Man webslings his way across Central City back to the hotel, releasing a last line of webbing β destination: the hotel rooftop. The last thing he expects is to find a man already there, a steaming mug of something between his hands, looking off into the distance. He's clearly occupied; that's good. Spidey checks to make sure he's still got his mask on, that he isn't going to reveal his identity based on a careless flub, and drops to his feet. ]
Don't mind me, just passing thr β oh, hell.
[ Of all the people to bump into, he doesn't expect a) a familiar face or b) that familiar face to be a guy he hasn't seen in ... a while. Yeah, let's just say a while. ]
wildcard β rooftop romansu ;
He'd be lying if he said this was the first time he'd ever crash-landed into another universe. Hell, he'd be lying if he said something similar didn't happen just a couple weeks ago. Spider-Man's first thought is to be on the lookout for ol' Fishbowl or one of the ultimate Avengers, but the town around him isn't anything like he recognizes. At least no one's called him out by his real name (because that went so well last time), so that's a bonus.
He spends some time acclimating to his surroundings, doing a little digging on what the hell happens to be going on (again) with no real results, and eventually finds his way to the hotel, which is way nicer than any place he's ever stayed in, that's for freakin' sure. In fact, the luxury and limitless credit makes him just a little itchy under the spandex, sending him out for the rest of the evening, finding excuses in retrieving cats from trees and helping old ladies cross the street β that sort of thing β in order to keep him away.
Eventually though a spider's gotta catch a few z's, and Spider-Man webslings his way across Central City back to the hotel, releasing a last line of webbing β destination: the hotel rooftop. The last thing he expects is to find a man already there, a steaming mug of something between his hands, looking off into the distance. He's clearly occupied; that's good. Spidey checks to make sure he's still got his mask on, that he isn't going to reveal his identity based on a careless flub, and drops to his feet. ]
Don't mind me, just passing thr β oh, hell.
[ Of all the people to bump into, he doesn't expect a) a familiar face or b) that familiar face to be a guy he hasn't seen in ... a while. Yeah, let's just say a while. ]
Please tell me you're the other one.