...Okay that one was unintentional. At least the guy didn't look like Brendan Fraser or he'd really feel like a dick.
Not that he wasn't in the first place, getting flashed with a barren eyeball exposed muscle and...aaaaugh seriously Mr. Dent, why do you do this to yourself? You could have so many diseases in so little time. What if someone threw salt at his face? Wouldn't even the air be stinging at that? God he looked like something from a nightmare, and Peter couldn't imagine how much it must hurt to rip off the bandages every single night.
He just couldn't understand why. And he would probably never know. The first thing about people with mangled injuries is that you left that stuff alone. You did not ask. If they shared it with you, that was okay. Otherwise your lips were zipped.
That didn't stop him from feeling wholeheartedly sorry for the guy.
He waved back, pushing away from the wall to stand properly and not give off the airs of a pouty teenager. He might be one at times, but adults did not like or appreciate that. "I never got yours either. Indy said it was Dent?" Peter cocked his head, curious. "I'm assuming that's a surname. I'd like to believe no parent would be that cruel."
Though honestly, he was a little surprised that Dent here hadn't gone and figured it out for himself. There was a giant spider on his chest. How many motifs for that could there possibly be? And his name was the laziest of all.
"I'm Spider-Man." There was a beat. "And I'm aware of how lame that sounds. Trust me, it makes sense where I come from."
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...Okay that one was unintentional. At least the guy didn't look like Brendan Fraser or he'd really feel like a dick.
Not that he wasn't in the first place, getting flashed with a barren eyeball exposed muscle and...aaaaugh seriously Mr. Dent, why do you do this to yourself? You could have so many diseases in so little time. What if someone threw salt at his face? Wouldn't even the air be stinging at that? God he looked like something from a nightmare, and Peter couldn't imagine how much it must hurt to rip off the bandages every single night.
He just couldn't understand why. And he would probably never know. The first thing about people with mangled injuries is that you left that stuff alone. You did not ask. If they shared it with you, that was okay. Otherwise your lips were zipped.
That didn't stop him from feeling wholeheartedly sorry for the guy.
He waved back, pushing away from the wall to stand properly and not give off the airs of a pouty teenager. He might be one at times, but adults did not like or appreciate that. "I never got yours either. Indy said it was Dent?" Peter cocked his head, curious. "I'm assuming that's a surname. I'd like to believe no parent would be that cruel."
Though honestly, he was a little surprised that Dent here hadn't gone and figured it out for himself. There was a giant spider on his chest. How many motifs for that could there possibly be? And his name was the laziest of all.
"I'm Spider-Man." There was a beat. "And I'm aware of how lame that sounds. Trust me, it makes sense where I come from."
If only vaguely.