A freshly-minted Peter Parker, in fact, judging by the way he can't seem to balance on the side of this dumpster casually. Like. He's doing it? And he's not falling off? But he looks like the goddamn nerd he is. At least Peter B had his shit more or less figured out, even if he was out of practice.

Anyway. He's still staring past her at the billboard for a moment, his mind churning. He ... doesn't sense any danger coming from her? It's blaring you're like me directly into his metaphorical eardrums, which is loud and unpleasant but not - that? Ugh, his head. He must have clipped a fire escape again. Those things are magnetically drawn to him.

"Yeah," he says, tentatively holding up both hands. Normally he'd be more hesitant about this whole secret identity here, but a) fellow spider-person and b) weird freaking day. For real. "Who the heck are you?" Another glance at the billboard. "And if you're gonna kill me, could you at least at least monologue a little first? I'm super lost."