If Gwen had no sense of restraint, she could have made money easily—her powers practically guaranteed it.
But the mask meant more than that. Spider-Man—Spider-Woman, in her case—wasn't supposed to be a thief or a mercenary. The suit was a legacy, a promise. To stain it would be to betray her late friend, to betray her father's trust.
In her world, Spider-Man was a symbol of courage and justice. In this one, it had to mean the same.
"Of course, Gwen," Russell said without hesitation. Then he added, almost casually:
"If you haven't found a place yet, why not stay here? The bookstore has apartments on the seventh floor. Plenty of empty rooms. Pick whichever you like."
Her face lit up, bright as spring. "Thank you, Russell."
Before he could say more, there was a knock—light, polite. "Hello? May we come in?" a smooth voice called.
The door opened a moment later without waiting for his answer.
In strolled a man in sunglasses and a tailored suit, sporting a neatly trimmed goatee and the kind of confidence that filled a room.
Behind him came a tall blonde woman with a sleek ponytail, sharp eyes, and a calm, professional grace. Trailing them was a broad-shouldered man in another suit, his silence as deliberate as his folded arms.
"Tony. Tony Stark," the first man announced, dropping into a seat without so much as a handshake.
He ran a hand across the sofa's armrest. "Hmm. Cheap fabric. Poor breathability. Color palette's—"
"Tony." The blonde cut him off sharply, flashing an apologetic smile toward Russell and Gwen.
"Pepper Potts," she said warmly, extending her hand. "Tony's assistant."
The silent one stayed standing behind Stark, radiating bodyguard energy without saying a word.
Russell and Gwen exchanged quick introductions, though Russell already had a pretty good idea what this was about.
They weren't here for him. They were here for Gwen.
Last night's battle must have left a trail—a camera angle, a shadow caught on tape. But why hadn't S.H.I.E.L.D. come knocking? Did Stark's AI intercept the footage? He filed the thought away. Guests came first.
"Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts, and—ah—Mr. Bodyguard," Russell said with a polite smile. "Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?"
"Got any liquor?" Tony asked.
Russell shook his head. "Sorry. No."
"Then nothing."
"Coffee would be lovely," Pepper interjected smoothly.
Russell gave a sheepish smile. "Actually, I don't have that either."
Pepper blinked. "…Then tea?"
"Of course. One moment." Russell slipped out of the lounge, closing the door behind him. He didn't head for the kitchen. He went straight to the front counter, sat down, and folded his arms.
Buy tea? Please. The excuse had been to give them space. If Stark and Potts wanted to talk to Gwen, he wasn't about to hover like an eavesdropping landlord.
Not that a door could block him. With his senses, he could hear every word.
Inside, Tony tilted his head toward the door. "Is he always that… 'funny'?" He put extra weight on the word.
Gwen smothered a laugh. "I just met him."
For a moment, the room was light with amusement. Then Pepper steered the conversation back. "Miss Stacy—we're here because of last night. Thank you for saving Tony. And me."
Gwen waved it off with an easy grin. "That's what Ghost-Spider does."
"Ghost-Spider? That's your name?" Tony smirked. "I thought it was Pajama Baby."
"Tony!" Pepper shot him a glare.
Tony raised his hands in mock innocence.
Pepper turned back to Gwen, softer. "Ghost-Spider. Agile as a ghost… it suits you."
Gwen only smiled. The name carried more than that, but she wasn't about to explain.
Tony leaned forward, unwilling to surrender the spotlight. "For the record, I could've handled Stane on my own. Higher altitude means lower pressure, colder temps. My Mark III has cold-resistant upgrades. His didn't. I just had to drag him skyward, freeze his suit, and let gravity do the rest."
"Tony!" Pepper groaned, pressing her fingers to her temple. So much for arriving with gratitude.
But Gwen thought it over, then nodded. "That… actually makes sense."
Tony smirked, victorious, casting Pepper a look before returning to Gwen. "Either way—you helped. Big time. So name it. Whatever you want. Any condition."
Her expression turned serious. "I didn't do it for a reward."
Pepper leaned in gently. "But consider this. Economists argue that altruism should be rewarded, so society encourages it. Not everyone has your courage. If helping others only drains you, fewer people will step forward."
Gwen hesitated. "But I don't have anything I want right now."
She did. But it wasn't something Tony Stark could give her. Not even he could send her back to her own universe.
"Then when you think of something, call me—or Pepper," Tony said firmly.
Pepper added, "In the meantime, we have a small gift for you."
The conversation softened, meandering into small talk. Gwen and Pepper warmed quickly, while Tony reclined like he owned the place.
Moments later came a knock. "Ms. Potts, your tea has arrived."
Pepper smiled faintly. "Come in, Mr. Russell."
Russell swept in, imitating a waiter's flourish as he set down a sweating cup. "Green tea. Less ice. Three pumps sugar. Enjoy."
Pepper accepted it with a polite "Thank you," though her expression twitched. She appreciated that he'd given them privacy… but buying bubble tea from the shop next door was such a Russell move.
Before long, Pepper rose. "We should go. Thank you for your time."
Russell walked them to the door. "Goodbye, Pepper. Mr. Stark. Mr. Bodyguard."
"Goodbye, Russell," Pepper said with a kind smile. Gwen echoed her softly.
Then they were gone, slipping into a sleek car and vanishing into traffic.
Russell turned to Gwen. "Come on. Dinner time."
She blinked at him. "You're not even going to ask what we talked about?"
He smirked. "Why ask when I already know?" His senses had picked up every word.
Her mouth fell open. "Has no one ever told you men aren't supposed to be that clever?"
"Sure."
"Who?"
"You."
She gave him a look. He only grinned wider.
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