"Must you, Walter?" Moonstone said, covering her eyes in mock pain. "I think that shirt is a violation of the Geneva Convention."
"Jealous, jealous, Moony," he said, starting up the Jeep.
"Don't," she said. "It wasn't my fault I had hippies for parents. How did you get a normal name, anyway?"
"Born in Ohio," he reminded her. "Only Californians are that weird."
"You're a Californian now," Moonstone Jane reminded him.
"Oh, definitely," he said. "I'm one of the major pieces of evidence for the weirdness of residents of California."
It was a ninety-minute drive to the caves they were going to explore, and Walter was glad enough to get out when they arrived.
"Killer bats!" he said. Jane rolled her eyes.
"Hey, if Peter Parker was bitten by a radioactive spider and turned into Spider-Man, and I get bitten by a radioactive bat, do I become Batman?"
“Only if you live in a comic book,” Jane said.
That, of course, jinxed it.
“I think Batman is taken,” Jane said eventually, looking at the two bleeding puncture wounds in Walter’s arm. “Maybe if you add a hyphen? It’s Spider-Man, after all, not Spiderman.”
“Oh,” Walter said sarcastically, “and go around saying to the bad guys, ‘I’m Bat-hyphen-Man’?”