Eddie blushed when he realized Venom had overheard that thought. He never wanted to hurt Venom's feelings, but of course it was impossible for him to not feel what he really felt. The best he could do was not vocalize it, and that was seldom enough to keep it from his symbiotic partner for long. Probably better to be honest.
I think it would be good if you observe for a bit before you participate again. The problem for Eddie, although he didn't know how to articulate it, was that Venom had too much control over his body and not enough understanding of his psyche. He didn't yet get that a human could be aroused by something and still not want to do it. Eddie wasn't exactly vanilla in his tastes, but Venom was a little too overwhelming for him still.
Though I think Deadpool will always want you to participate. Eddie didn't think he'd ever met anyone as jaded as Wade. Just, uh, let me drive next time.
He didn't ask Venom to stop zipping and unzipping the backpack pouch, as it wasn't bothering him and he felt that anyone likely to be irritated by something so minor wouldn't last long as a New Yorker anyway. He could throw a brick in any direction right now and hit somebody doing something more annoying. In any case, it didn't take them long to reach a downtown used Harley lot, whereupon he cheerfully hopped off the bus.
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"Guess you didn't get a briefing," the gunslinger said dryly. "We have to capture a demon." He didn't know for sure it was a demon, but all his previous encounters with horrible black shape-changing monsters had occurred in Hell, so he was going with that as a hypothesis. "It was hanging around this Wilson earlier, so we want to grab Wilson and question him about it. Hopefully, it won't be still hanging around Wilson when we catch up with him because I'd hate to lose my first team that fast.
"Your first job," he said to the kid Ringo, "is to go over to that Office Depot over there," pointing across the street, "and buy us five or six rolls of duct tape, while I step into this men's room and change."
When he came out of the men's room, he was wearing the clothes Fisk's men had brought -- jeans, plain t-shirt, and a black denim jacket. He kept his own boots, but brought nothing else out of the bathroom with him, except a packet of cigarillos. His other clothes were simply gone. Even the guns had disappeared, or at least they were obviously not on him.
"Did you gentlemen bring transportation?" he inquired, striking a match and applying it to one of his smokes.
