[ Gwen listens to his ramble, studies his body language. Whatever he's holding on to, it's big. And it's bad. She can just tell, just by looking at him. When he asks if they can sit down, she takes his hand with a nod, pulling him over to the nearest bean bag chairs. ]

Anything you need to tell me. Go for it.


[ And then he does, and it's a lot worse than she imagined. She has a name. She has as many details as Peter wants to tell her about what happened with Skip and she has a deep, burning desire to hang this guy with webbing. She gives Peter as much time and as much silence as he needs to get this out, not interrupting with questions or comments, nodding when it's appropriate to to show him she's listening.

At some point, whether Peter pulled her over or she moved there herself, she's in the same bean bag as him, curled into his side and her arms around him like she's trying to protect him from memories she's sure are horrific. ]

And that's why you stepped in.

[ She'd already told him before he said anything about the crap with Skip that she appreciated him stepping in because she had no clue what the hell to do. And now she understands why he did it. ]

This is also why you have a hard time sleeping, right?