Peter had a knack for attracting like-minded individuals, even now, as a child. And by like-minded individuals, in that category, one could also add fellow weird, superpowered or socially awkward children like himself. Case in point, Peter curiously hiding behind a tree as he stared at a strange looking girl from across the park. May had trusted him to go alone because it was only a few blocks from the apartment. As long as he came home before dinner and didn’t talk to strangers OR reveal his powers which might draw unwanted attention. People had…conflicting reactions whenever he revealed his ability to lift a car over his head, carry a man three times his size, or stick to the ceiling upside down unaided. Some people found it amazing, others found it scary a child could wield such power, like he needed to be controlled. So it led to him mostly hiding his abilities but that became quite hard when these powers were so ingrained in him! So maybe he just….needed to find people who’d understand. And…maybe this girl would.

Perhaps she just looked a little different. Maybe she was normal. But he didn’t know that for sure, so might as well give it a go. And, technically, this didn’t blow one of Aunt May’s rules ‘cause this was just a fellow kid! What harm could possibly come from interacting with another child? Surely nothing. Inhaling deep, Peter pushed his big round glasses further up on his nose bridge and blew a stray brown curl out of his face. Best impressions, right?

He proceeded to march right on over, trying to instill confidence in himself, only to feel nervousness swell up inside him the closer he got to this poor girl. Cheeks tinted pink and feeling sweat accumulate, Peter had no choice but to continue when he was within her eyesight and only a few inches away. So…start with banter, right?

"Mm, you look expectant. What precedent do you believe I've set?" Her fist takes his lapels and yanks him down to her eye level. "Perhaps my interest in you is exhausted."

A bold-faced lie. Her lips graze his, heavily tobacco'd breath fanning over him. She wonders if the glee she takes in domination manifests visually. Internally, she's at a simmer. She's a bright red broth brimming with chili oil. It's not the same hateful violence as the nights she dared herself to boil sugar and pour it over her husband's head. Nay: it's the kind where a cat breaks a roach's back and bats it between her paws.