"No it's fine." Matt picks up his fork again and moves the 'meat' over the spaghetti a bit, long enough to hopefully assure Frank before he sets his fork down again and goes back to nursing his coffee. He probably was expecting Daredevil to be a lot more adaptable to all these sudden changes and just roll with the punches. But it's not Daredevil sitting with Frank at the table right now, and Matthew is just a man. All the new scars and the paleness of his skin can attest to that.

"He wouldn't assault a blind man," Matt comments dismissively. He might have a few disparaging thoughts about the Avengers but there's a special place in his heart for the boy from Brooklyn who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, who is incidentally also technically a veteran. A much higher opinion than the big green wrecking ball, the billionaire playboy or the tourist with a hammer, anyway. If Matt knew anything about Steve's stance on Registration he'd be scoring even more points.

It's hard to feel happy for Frank when 'I did it, Red' means he went Rambo somewhere and shot someplace up, leaving a pile of bodies in his wake.

"How do you feel, Frank?" Matt can't help but ask. He's not asking it like an adult would ask a child 'what do you have to say for yourself?' He just wants to know. "Are you at peace?"