Open

[blindninja]

» WHO? Matt Murdock & OPEN
» WHEN? Now
» WHERE? Deck 6 => 6.27 => Deck 5
» WHAT? Arrival
» WARNINGS? TBC

Arrival Hall (CLOSED to Frank Castle)
It's cold.

He's not where he was before. He knows that much. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets his senses go, scanning his surroundings like an uncalibrated radar. Metal. Lots of metal, clanging, banging. But everything is wrong. Lighter, like things are floating even when they're not. People are talking. Laughing, maybe. But distant, like the next apartment building over, or somewhere down the next block. The fine hairs on his arms and on the back of his neck stand with the low buzz-hum of the vessel, creaking, engine churning like an old ship, suspended in space.

It's like a hangover, except. He feels heavy even though he's light. Shackles on his feet. His head hurts. Everything hurts. And God, what is that noise?

Less of a waking up, more of regaining consciousness as Matt rolls over with a pained cry and a grimace.

His hand crawls over to the smartwatch, trying to mute the beeping and humming and screeching grating against his ears. What day is it? What time? What happened? He clutches the device with one hand and runs the other hand down his body. Daredevil's gone. Only Matthew. A jumpsuit covering the bandages. Stitches. Blood. No pearly gates, no apostles. No questions to answer about how he's lived his life, whether he's lived it well, whether he's repentant. Paid enough of a price. Just a jumpsuit... and a pair of boots?

"...lectra." Talking feels like rousing up a sandstorm in his throat. He groans and struggles to his feet, using energy he doesn't have to drive him forward. Out. Just the one thing on his mind.

I have to save her.

He gets blood on his palm as he presses his hand over a wet bandage, stitches having been ripped as he sluggishly stumbles deliriously down the corridor. His boots clunk along at an uneven, unsteady pace. Everything is too loud. Too cold. Too heavy. There's blood on the wall where he braced himself against it. And then there's a door. Everything flickers behind his closed eyelids. Black, red, black, red, black, black, black...

Room 6.27. Where everything's a little quieter. And he can just focus. Keep the red lights on in the dark.

6.27. Matthew. Chapter Six. Verse Twenty-Seven. 'Can any one of you, by worrying, add a single hour to your life?'

Hn. That's funny. The chuckle bubbles to the surface. For all the pain He's inflicted, God still has a decent sense of humour.


Departure Lounge (OTA)
He doesn't take kindly to being dumped in the med bay, but there's not much of a fight he can put up against Frank Castle in his current state. He's not sure how long he's been resting there, but when he's well enough to orientate himself again, he's not staying in the med bay. The machines are noisy. He has questions. He's scared.

Matt makes it two steps out of the med bay before space sickness kicks in. The sheer wrongness of the gravitational pull throws him off, throws everything around him off. He sinks down to his knees and clutches his head, curling up against the wall. He looks pale, like he's about to throw up.

Comments

[oorah]

Today is the day he finally gets his shit together to go talk to Karen about everything between them. After a long sleep in Elektra's room, he can think again, mind unclouded. Everything seems a little brighter, a little clearer this morning - well, nearing afternoon. He had been tired, go figure. He's always tired.

6.19 is a welcome reprieve though he hasn't seen the inside of his own room since June, it feels like. Maybe that's accurate, honestly. Frank shaves the sides of his head and shaves off days of stubble, feeling more like himself every moment that goes by since he regained his sense of touch. He makes his way through a shower and a fresh change into the same worn navy jumpsuit he always wears, trying not to think of his daily showers at Karen's place a week previously; needing her help for even the simplest of tasks.

A sound outside his door strains his hearing, though it feels next-to-superhuman after not having it at all. He's just so grateful that he can even if it sounds fucking bad. It sounds like-- someone's in trouble, maybe? It's enough to get Max's attention for sure, facing the door and pinning back his ears, growling lowly in uncertainty. Frank steps forward and ruffles his ears, taking the time to strap on his communicator, and drop his extra one in his pocket just in case.

By the time he's made it out into the corridor, no one is there and at first he thinks he just imagined it - if not for Max's reaction. That's when he sees the blood. Frank runs over to the spot on the floor, and from there looks up to see another smear. Someone was hurt here, or. This could be another station trap or illusion but if someone needs his help he has to take the chance. Telling Max to get behind him, he follows the trail to 6.27 and steels himself, all six mag-boots of man and canine heralding his arrival against the heavy metal grating of the floor. But for good measure, he raps S-A-F-E into the doorframe with his knuckles, the same way he always does.

The door opens on its own, apparently unlocked and he takes in a little breath in surprise. Max is on the slumped-over figure before Frank can physically get there, but then a solid hand is landing on Matt's shoulder and turning him over. He can't see the familiar, bruised visage of one Frank Castle, but he can smell him (sorry, at least he just showered) and feel a flat dog tongue lick at the back of his neck nervously.

"Red?" Matt will hear next, Frank's gruff voice carrying in an incredulous tone. Before he can fully think it through, he's hefting the other man over his shoulder as gently as he can and beelining it for the elevators.

[blindninja]

He didn't think the noises could get worse but six mag boots clanging around echoing down the hallway banging against his skull is definitely worse. Frank doesn't smell like what he normally smells like. Cheap soap and generic aftershave. Old leather that's been sweated and bled into. Gunpowder residue. But dog smells like dog and Frank's voice is unmistakable.

Matt tenses up as he's being moved - no, this is bad, where's the floor, no everything's upside down, or sideways, he's going to throw up, why is this happening - and he grips onto the back of Frank's shirt tightly until his knuckles go white.

"No... no." That kick looks more like a limp flail. He digs his elbow unhelpfully into the back of Frank's head. Where are they going? He doesn't like this. Put him down.

[oorah]

Wincing as the man's bony elbow digs in, he redoubles his efforts to hang on, doing his best to walk slowly and keeping his steps light so they don't jostle Matt overly. He can only imagine what it's like here for the other man's enhanced senses, and for some reason until this moment Frank never even considered the possibility that he'd ever show up. But of course he would. It makes as much sense as any of the rest of them being here.

"Yeah, asshole, you need medbay." But his voice is softer than usual, maybe even sympathetic. He sets Matt down in front of the elevator button and mashes it, still holding him against the wall but testing to see if the other man can carry his own weight. Throwing up would probably be really bad right now, worse than throwing up in space is usually, even. Frank leans in close, tapping his hand against Matt's cheek to get his attention. "Stay awake and we can walk together. If you pass out again, I have to carry you. Got it?"

That's all the kindness Matt is afforded before they're all in the elevator car and '5' is pressed with a jab of Frank's elbow. He hits a button on his device to engage Max's magboots and forcibly tips Matt backwards onto his heels until his boots come online, gripping the metal beneath their feet as they get launched for several seconds into zero gee. It will probably feel great for Matt right now, like his injuries are much less and his bones are all where they're supposed to be, but it's extremely shortlived, the gravity reengaging as the car arrives one deck above where they started out and doors sliding open with a cheery bing.

"You awake? You can do this?" He nudges the other man with his hip and locks a strong arm around him just in case it turns out Matt can't support his own weight, even at a third what it usually is.

[blindninja]

The back of Matt's head thumps loudly against the wall when Frank puts him down and he winces, one hand moving halfway up before he decides the pain shooting up his arm is too great to bother bracing himself. He starts to slump when Frank stops supporting him which isn't a good sign, but his legs shift as he tries to steady himself. He's conscious, at least, but his eyes when he can keep them open look a little glazed over as everything comes in and out of focus.

He winces when the elevator starts moving. All the cogs, the pulleys and the magnets that make their metal box work chugging away. If he didn't feel like throwing up before, as soon as the gravity seems to slip away from under his feet he thought he might have thrown something up.

Oh, no. That's just what coughing air out of his lungs is supposed to feel like. He's fine.

The liquid in his inner ears is probably gurgling and screaming in protest as he stumbles out of the elevator, falling against Frank, trying to push the marine away with one hand groggily while the other goes to where he's bleeding through the jumpsuit.

He doesn't know where he is yet, but every fibre of Matthew Murdock's being hates space.

[oorah]

Frank catches Matt easily with a tiny noise in defeat, Max butting up against the man's legs from behind to try and get him to fall in line. The way the man tries to shove him away is annoying, but he's holding fast and digging rough fingers in because if he takes another fall it's just going to make everything worse.

"Stop fighting me, Murdock. We're almost there." He orders him through grit teeth, but still careful to keep his volume low as he hefts the man down the hallway. It's about the same as if he'd just carried him, he's definitely never being nice about this again. Lesson: learned. So when they finally, blessedly cross the threshold into the medbay, Frank doesn't wait for Matt to get on board this time. He picks him up in a dodgy princess carry and lays him gently down on the bed, taking a step back so it can work its wacky space magic.

He starts unzipping the bloody jumpsuit so he can make sure the man's wounds are mending, sighing in relief when it seems like he's finally not getting dicked over. How he went from shooting this idiot in the head to carrying him through two decks of a space station to make sure he was safe - well, that's not worth analyzing. Not until Matt is whole again.

[blacksky]

She hasn't slept this deeply since that night at Matthew's apartment, the one before everything fell apart. It was blissful even with the obnoxious doggie snores coming from Max. Elektra hadn't realized how much she missed simply being with someone else or maybe her denial was simply that strong. She certainly didn't spend the first two months here drinking with Miller for her health.

Elektra is past all that now. She has friends. Karen surprisingly is one of them after such an awkward first meeting back home. She's working on prying herself out of bed to see her. They've got codes to plug into a door. She wants to check in on Karen too after her half of the lovebirds turned up at her door. She's sure there's a story there. The least she can do is let Karen share it.

Her hair is tied up in a ponytail as she puts on that awful faded blue jumpsuit and magboots for the hundredth time. One of these days she'll have to see if she can coax Karen into borrowing her something. She might actually learn to appreciate her style if only because it's not a jumpsuit.

It's the sound of Max's magboots, so distinct because really who else, but Frank Castle would ask for such a thing? that really gives her a kick to get moving. She makes sure her hair is tied back straight one final time before she heads out to greet Max. She's grown to love that dog if only because deep down she's not all that different from him. Usually that sound means Karen or Frank are nearby too. Either way, it is something to look forward to. She moves towards the door in time to see the trio of boys disappear over to the medbay... and she masks her heart like a coward.

For better or worse, she never counted on Matthew coming here. She planned on it being an enemy. She planned on it being Stick. Elektra never thought he would come. She spends too long in her doorway simply trying to work through how it makes her feel. As far as she remembers? He wounded her deeply. He threw her out after letting her pick him over Stick for killing a boy who would have destroyed them with his brothers. She is now truly alone in the world thanks to him... or was. This place was difficult to live in, but she isn't alone here. Frank said as much and she believes him.

Worse, it's hard to stay mad when she knows what she saw. Even if she could miss the way Matthew carried himself, she knows the smell of stale blood anywhere. She knows how his senses must be struggling to adapt to this. She knows him even when she doesn't want to. She also knows herself too. She's not going to stay away. She can't.

Her legs move forward, hand shooting out to shut the door shortly afterward. As much as it hurts, she has to try to offer some aid. Matthew is more her responsibility than Frank's. Incidentally, she also loves him too much not to be there for him when she suspects he'll be struggling most. Elektra really doesn't know how long she stood there as she agnozied over what to do. It's clearly long enough for Frank to get things under control.

He takes off once their eyes meet. She knows this is truly on her. Elektra puts her big girl pants on and lets her heart beat normally again. It's as close to hello as she gets some days as he knows. "Hello, Matthew." It's tentative, uncertain. She's bracing herself for another rejection. She approaches him slowly as she tries to make peace with her foolishness. How many times does she need to be told to go away? She really is pathetic.

[blindninja]

There won't be a universe out there where Matt won't be fighting Frank. They'll always be butting heads. Right now he's busy dying and insisting he doesn't need help, but tomorrow there'll no doubt be something else that Matt will point an accusatory finger at Frank about. They probably don't know how else to interact with each other.

Frank gets a moment's reprieve while Matt reorients himself lying down, his hands feeling out the base he's lying on as his brows furrow in confusion. His head turns as the whirring gets a little louder, but there's no time to panic when he starts feeling like someone or something's sedated him.

He reaches out towards Frank's wrist but his fingertips graze over the soldier's skin and his hand falls limply to the side. A moment of peace seems to wash over him as the tension eases off his shoulders. Somewhere on the way Matt's dropped his communicator, or maybe it's still in the room, but for now nothing's disturbing him as his breathing and heartrate evens out into a slow, steady rhythm.

[oorah]

The touch to his wrist earns Matt a soft look, but then he's out for the count and that's probably for the best. Frank digs a hello kitty bandaid out of his pocket and sticks it on the man's face for good measure. There, he's helping. He tells Max to sit and pulls up a chair to Matt's bedside, wondering what happens next. He doesn't have a whole lot of fight left in him, honestly. Not for Matt anyway, he has to save his strength for the day it can get them all out of here. Oh yeah, that's right, Frank Castle has somehow become one of the loudest and most optimistic voices on Reverie Terminal. There's a lot Matt may not be able to reconcile with the image of the Punisher he knows from home.

"Asshole," he complains softly, petting Max's head as he watches the other man, annoyed that he has to care about someone else now. That he has to worry. Frank will wait for Matt to come around, if only so he can give him the space rundown. He's getting pretty good at the speech, too.

[blindninja]

Third time's the charm, or so they say. That voice. It cuts through all the other horrendous noises in this God forsaken place.

He's died and finally gone to wherever they were going to meet. In their holiday home with the children they were going to raise together. Santorini, listening to the sunset in Fira between blue-domed churches with the smell of donkeys and barbecued fish tickling his nose. Decrepit and old in purgatory. Still arguing over the most mundane things in hell. He doesn't care. If there's no place for her in heaven, he will gladly burn with her in the depths below.

But he hasn't died. And neither has she.

This is their life, before the first time she died in his arms. The second chance they never had. They've run so far from the Hand he doesn't know where he is anymore. And they'll make it work this time.

He twitches when she approaches, and when she gets close enough the bewildered look in his tired eyes fade away. He reaches out to touch her. Pull her in. Hold her close. The ridiculous crinkling of jumpsuits when their bodies meet makes him want to laugh but that's not why his shoulders are shaking.

What're you talking about? He's not crying. She's crying.

Departure Lounge ALSO HI I RECOGNIZE YOU

[resleeves]

He's been lying low since everything happened. If he emerges from his room, it's to see Miller or Ricki and then he goes back and sits there and stares. Occasionally, he rages at no one and falls asleep only to dream of Reileen's face.

Today, he feels decent enough to come out and take a walk if only because he needs some fucking food and he doesn't want Miller having to bring it to him all the goddamn time.

So, today would be the day he leaves his room and that would be the day some poor fuck stumbles out in front of him and crumples to the ground, looking like he's about to barf all over the fucking place.

"Need a bucket?" Kovacs asks dryly.

[blacksky]

He isn't cruel. That's what surprises her. The thing about heartbreak is that it can warp and eat away at even the sweetest of memories. There is more to Matthew than the moments he gives up her just as there is more to her than the moments she loses control of the beast inside her. She had forgotten that up until he pulls her in. Elektra is reaching to wrap a protective arm around him in return. She doesn't know what caused all these injuries, but she'll keep him safe this time. She has to.

That desperate thought fades away at the tears. Her eyes well up for the second day in a row. This time she lets herself cry. She never could stand his tears when they were so few and far in between. "Oh, Matthew." Her voice is wet and tinny. What brought him down so low that all the problems between them no longer mattered? She can't help wondering what she left him too. She should have fought to stay. Once again leaving turned out to be a mistake they both suffered for.

Her fingers tangle through the hair on the back of his neck. "It's alright. I'm here now. We'll get through this together." She sounds so painfully sincere even if an uglier voice in the back of her skull reminds her that this will be short-lived. How can she care when he's suffering like this? Let him change his mind again as long as he's alright in the end.

ORLY

[blindninja]

Matt hasn't gotten used to the boots banging around yet, clobbering his eardrums and he almost misses what Tak said. But he at least picks up the word 'bucket' and the lilt that signifies it was a question. "...yes." Otherwise he's going to puke all over Tak's feet and that's probably not the first impression he was aiming for.

[blindninja]

In his dreams he's Daredevil, back in the city that never sleeps. There's nothing quite like it, parkouring over rooftops, the weight of his familiar billy club in his hand as he swings around a billboard that can just support his weight, land on his feet on a street light, leap between freshly laundered sheets and rolling over roof access hatches. Nothing but the night breeze caressing his skin beneath his body armour and the taste of freedom from the confines of being blind, ambling through his crowded city, being tsked at and glared at, the inappropriate stares, tourists' selfie sticks being swung at his head.

He always knows what he's leaping for when he jumps off a building, and he never misses a step. So when he does, and he's falling, falling, falling and his city is rushing up to meet him, he wakes up startled and immediately regrets jolting upright, clutching onto his chest.

It's the second time he's woken up on the terminal, and he's still disoriented and confused. But it's the first time he's woken up with Frank Castle on his four o'clock.

Frank Castle.

The fight or fight harder instinct kicks in as he starts to register that he's not actually falling, and Matt curls a fist and throws a punch at Frank's face.

[blindninja]

"I'm sorry," he blurts out in a choked sob, gripping tighter into her clothes. All the things he wanted to say if he saw her again came gushing to the surface like an overfilled drain. He wanted to scream at her for making them both accept their fates down there, for making him make peace with God, and Foggy and Karen and the people he's just met that he'll never see again, for damning his soul while he held her in his arms as that thunderous roar of Midland Circle came rushing down on them. He wanted to punch her. Shake her violently. Wanted to demand why she killed that toxic father figure they shared, the man who raised him and made his stomach twist when he made Matthew feel like his own son, why she would stoop to his level instead of rising above the pain and giving him the forgiveness he never deserved.

But above all those pent up frustrations, he wanted to hold her. And just.

Listen to that silence.

He's loved someone. And he's let her go. And she came back and tried to kill him. He knows she's his.

[blacksky]

It's late as far as apologies go, but she accepts it for the wrong thing. Elektra nods against his shoulder. Just like that all her grievances against him are forgiven. She can't know this isn't what he means. No one told her of the future that laid ahead of her because they didn't know. The sad reality is no one knows her there. No one loves her, but him. You can't know the fate of a woman you never gave a damn about before now. She won't even blame them once she does find out. It's not like she had any love for them either.

She cries with until every ounce of frustration and bitter loneliness comes out and her chest settles minus a tremor she can't suppress. She can't help thinking she should cry more often. It really is freeing. "I'm sorry too." It isn't all on him. She should have been open from the start. "I should have told you about it sooner. I try so hard, but I can't always control it." She wipes her face. She can only imagine how she must look now. Her voice shakes as she continues, "I'm broken, Matthew. I don't know why, but I am. I should have said so from the start."

[oorah]

He really should have anticipated this, huh? The fist swings at his face and Max lets out a warning growl. Frank shushes the dog into submission at the same time he catches Matt's hand, seriously weary as he stands and shoves the man back into the bed. He wants to blame the disorientation the other man must be experiencing - a feeling he knows well after his own ordeal - but his hospitality is wearing thin. If he has to physically restrain Matt until he's well again then he will, but it would just be so much easier if he listened for once. Of course it was naive to think he even could.

"You were split open like a fish, moron. Sit the fuck down." Max is still snarling, but he seems conflicted like he doesn't want to bite Matt. Probably because he seems super fucked up. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Can they do this? Try for civility. He wants to fucking give it a go if only because it's the far less taxing version of events. Let the most tired dad rest, Matt. Do it for America.

[blindninja]

He's barely been here for a few hours and already he's exhausted. He's not sure what she's talking about, why she's apologising about whatever 'it' she's talking about. Surely it's not to do with anything that's happened in New York when she's already freed herself from the grasp of the Hand. Chose their fate in the depths of that dark, cold, underground cavern. And he accepted.

"You're not," he insists. He's reluctant to pull away as well, sniffling. Not because he doesn't want her to see him like this, but because he doesn't want to let go.

"We'll start over," he whispers against her hair, breath warm against her ear. He pulls back then and wipes some of her tears away with his thumb, pressing his lips against hers.

"Everything will be okay this time."

this isn't quite curtis but CLOSE ENOUGH

[resleeves]

"Too bad. I don't have one. Puke on the floor," Kovacs says, clearly showing that he's all heart. He takes a few steps back to make sure he's not in the way of any errant vomit should it come and eyes the man coolly.

"What happened to you anyway?" he asks, crossing his arms. "Eat some bad shit from the replicators?"

They'd never hear the fucking end of it now.

[blindninja]

Matthew? Listen? Good luck with that.

Matt grits his teeth and yanks his fist back, listening out for any warning signs. A dog, yes, but he doesn't seem like he's armed to the teeth the way Daredevil would have found him, swinging by a rooftop blocking his crosshairs off with a crotch shot before a boot comes flying at Frank's face.

He sits there sulking, seething, rubbing his knuckles as his eyes dart left and right. It doesn't take him long to remember. There's nothing quite like the sound of a skyscraper coming down on top of you. The feeling of her life slipping away a second time, because he's failed her again. All that dust in his lungs. The weight of the literal world on his battered body.

"Midland Circle." He purses his lips. "The Hand. Danny, Jessica. Luke." His tongue nervously flickers over his bottom lip. Every time he closes his eyes he can hear it. The sound of the collapse, like an oncoming freight train taking the love of his life away.

"Did they find her body?" His shoulders slump as he curls his fist into his jumpsuit. "Elektra." He can't even bury her because who knows if the Hand's gone for good or if they'll try something with her again.

this is not the curtis I recognise!!!

[blindninja]

Matt doesn't need permission but since he was given it he's just going to do as he's told and puke on the floor. He hasn't eaten in days and he might have thrown up some blood from the internal injuries he's sustained.

"...I'm fine." This is what fine looks like apparently.

[blacksky]

She wants to say he's wrong. Nothing's really changed. This is all still hard for her. She doesn't always win. Matthew is telling her what she desperately wants to hear. Elektra wants to believe him more than anything so she kisses him back with a gentleness she really isn't known for. What he's talking about sweet and she's fairly certain she cried out any aggression she had left five minutes ago.

"I hope so." She whispers against his lips. Elektra wishes she could collapse against him and sleep. She's tired as well. It's important he understands what they've gotten themselves into so she hovers above him. "I won't lie to you again, Matthew. This place is against us. It will hurt you or me sooner or later in the most intimate ways imaginable. Neither of us will be able to stop it. It's going to be difficult to be okay for long."

[oorah]

There's a ka-bar strapped to his ankle, but it's nearer to a swiss army knife these days. He hasn't cut or maimed one person since he got here, see? This is reform. He's just glad Matt seems to be calming down, even if what he says doesn't make total sense at first. Midland Circle, he heard about it. He thinks. It's a vague memory, swimming to the fore along with all the feelings Matt's presence always dredges up. His last moments with his little girl, arguing about the merits of murdering bad guys 'just this once.' He swallows, tries to slow his heart back down because he knows Matt will hear it pick up. He isn't sure how successful he is in the end.

"I dont," he starts, but then Matt's filling in the blanks. Elektra. The very same woman he'd been clinging to last night. Something like guilt wracks him then, pushing a shudder down his spine though he isn't sure if the feeling is for Matt or Karen right now. Maybe it doesn't matter. "Elektra's fine, I just saw her a few hours ago." He's trying to assure without overwhelming, but this place isn't so great at that second one.

His hand reaches out, pressing solidly into Matt's shoulder again, trying to get him to lay back down though it's probably a lost cause.

"You don't wanna listen to me, but you have to. This place will eat you alive if you don't."

[subplot]

When Frank tells Karen that Matt is here and gives his location, she stops what she's doing and immediately makes her way over to him. She almost doesn't believe it, not until she sees him with her own eyes. He's stepping out of the medbay as she's heading in, and she has to come to a fast stop so she doesn't run right into him. He looks like shit, though that isn't much of a surprise given his nighttime hobby back home and the fact that he's new to space. She remembers being sick for the first month or so after arriving. But this doesn't seem to necessarily only be space sickness, which makes her fall right back into her old role of worrying too damn much about Matt Murdock.

"Frank told me you were here," she explains, hurrying in so she can try to help pull him to his feet. Whatever may have happened between them, it doesn't matter now. He needs her, and she's going to take care of him the best that she can. Starting by getting his ass back in one of the beds in the medbay. Maybe later she can take the time to give him a hug but for now she's all business. She can't let herself be happy that he's here until she knows that he'll manage to survive his first few days.

"What happened this time?"

[morphogenia]

Kamala is here because she's curious. It doesn't get any deeper than that. She wants to know about the medbay and see who was leaving blood on her deck. The answer to that is ridiculously easy to find. This is the story of how a 4'10 Pakistani-American teenager is running up to Matt while he's getting sick. "Hey!" It's probably not all that pleasant considering she wears heavy mag boots like everyone else here. She's dressed up in a Captain America t-shirt and jeans so at least you know it's possible not to be a fashion disaster, Matt? Lucky you.

Kamala touches him with one of her hands. It's noticeably a bit heavy thanks to her antique gold bangles attached at her wrist. "Are you okay? Do you need a bucket? Because I can totally get one!" She's wavering on what to do when she spots it. Randomly (if you're missing context at least) Kamala laughs. "Oh my God! Frank got you with the Hello Kitty bandaids! Does this mean you're a friend of his?"

[blindninja]

"Elektra, everyone was against us." Didn't she remember? All the trials and tribulations other people put them through in college. Everyone fighting for and against the Hand. Stick. Everyone who's ever said they weren't good for each other. Sometimes they're even against each other.

"I won't let anyone hurt you anymore." He tucks his head in against the side of her neck, nuzzling softly, closing his eyes.