Time it correctly to grab his head with both of her hands and slam it into the concrete.

Three other plans came to her in the time it took her eyes to lift from his wrists back to his eyes.

A good head slam might knock some sense into him.

His Spider-Sense could be overridden with emotional manipulation.

Tears. He was not psychotic, he would react if she started to cry.

There was nothing in the apartment sturdy enough to knock him out, she'd have to push him out the window. Stay on top of him to make sure he landed on his back. -

Or was he planning on manipulating her into his fight? Knowing that she would feel compelled to side with him against Parker and his... people.

Another pawn.

A pawn. Again.

It was then she realised she was checking if he had his web shooters. They would have to be disabled first. -

It was a happy stage, where they should be enjoying every moment together that they could.

He'd been engaging in a one-man war against Parker when he could have been spending time with her.

Had he just been using her as a cover story? -

Laura had moved to stand up straight, facing him. Her head cocked to the side. A new thought swirled up, this one did make her react.

It felt cold and tingly. Unpleasant.

When two people began a new relationship, there was supposed to be a 'honeymoon phase'. -

That rage was misplaced. It wasn’t Logan’s faulty she had been created. Just as it wasn’t Peter Parker’s fault that Ben had been created.

Yet she didn’t find any sympathy for Ben right now. Not for this.

“Did you think about what comes after? When people realise it was you.” -

‘Why?’ Might be the obvious question. And a very simplistic one. Especially when Laura knew the answer. She’d lived that sense of rage. Sometimes she still felt it when she saw all the things she missed out on. -

// It's weird af, definitely late night cereal eating stuff

There's a robot head who's in love with the sex-slave-lizard hybrid, a dead guy, flying arms, and a giant ship who eats planets.

And Stanley.

Lexx is... Certainly something quite unlike anything else.

It's Eurotrash does Sci-Fi

While on LSD

// I was busy killing off Fliss and you hit me with this?

// for fuck's sake, Kas

Firefly. Farscape.

Lexx.

Obtain information. Assess. Process. React.

Everything from his cortisone levels, his heart rate, the spike of adrenaline that would flood his body if he decided to run.

Still leaning over the counter, her hand mid-air where it had been as she'd eaten a pickle.

The fountain kept running.

"What have you done?"

Voice soft, her expression was blank. Devoid of any hint of emotion. The expression she'd worn when she was in a cade and looking out at her jailors.

There was no skip in her heartbeat. No lump of emotion to be swallowed down. Nothing but the tool she'd been made to be. -

She'd had her world crash in on her more times than she could count because someone decided that she didn't deserve happiness. For the crime of existing.

In truth, she would be disgusted by him if she knew the full extent of his recent hobby. -

No, she was far from pristine or perfect.

She was damaged and broken and held together by a need to prove all those people who had called a thing, wrong.

Her own life had been used for someone else's amusement. -

"Do you have a publicist who helps you decide on your poses, or is it all you?"

"I need to work on my image."

“That’s a very cool pose!”

“I like the way your hands are placed and the angle your shoulders are at.”

"I used the money Mr Stark gave me for a bed to buy a PC so that I could play Sims."

"But if he asks, I'm using it to make money online by working as a freelance programmer."

"That's my job in the Sims so it's not exactly a lie."

"If you want to leave, you can just leave. You don't need to make up an excuse to go."

The claw retracted, pickle juice making the small cut between her knuckles sting for a moment before it healed up to leave a small silver scar.

It would explain his behaviour.

Now he'd make an excuse to leave again, and if he did return, he would have forgotten the nuts and the cheese. And this conversation.

She wasn't very good at conversation, so she didn't really blame him. -

Ben was being weird.

Again.

His heart rate was jumping around. His scent was off. Sour.

He was distant. Had been for a few days now.

There was one rational explanation. He'd lost interest in their relationship.

Probably had found himself his own place and no longer needed her. -

“Pickles are wonderful. Have you tried them?”

“Tangy and tart and crunchy.”

“I suppose it’s an issue with being a clone.”

“One of my clones pretended to be me for a while.”

A single claw slid from her knuckles, spearing a pickle so she could chomp it loudly.

“We need a bowl of nuts. And some cheese.”

“Amazon for the fountain. And Target for the pickles.”

“I met Felicia Hardy, she said she was buying clothing for Peter Parker who was using your name in hospital. I hope he’s not pretending to be you to commit medical insurance fraud. You should check your policy.”

"Wait. I don't have the Island Escape pack."

"Horse Ranch and grow grapes to make wine, it is."

"Running away to a desert island because I fucked around and got knocked up, and having to live off the land to make shelter and find food for my infant, sounds like fun."

"I can plant seeds and collect sea water for bathing. Go fishing, and comb the beach for expensive, pretty shells."

"Hmm. I probably could."

It sounded like a challenge, but it was also a very nice decorative piece and she didn't want to eat it all.

"But I want to look at it for a while."

It is beautiful.