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Saturday in Hell's Kitchen tends to be relatively quiet. Today, however, one particular block downtown is abuzz with activity. Lots of pomp and circumstance has surrounded the opening of a youth centre, sponsored by one of the area's own. Reporters, citizens, and the like seem to be enjoying the little ribbon cutting ceremony hosted by one Wilson Fisk.
Fisk stands at the centre of a podium and lifts his hands in a show of humility in the middle of his speech, "And so, on the cusp of everything going on in this community and everything taking place to create hate and tension between New Yorkers, we commit to doing something good for our community," there are sounds of agreement from the crowd. "Which is why we have banded together to make this centre, our centre. A place where our youth can go for help. So we can stop the tide of runaways, of drug users, of delinquency and bring in a new era of responsible citizenship." The crowd applauds.
Fisk takes a large pair of scissors and cuts the ribbon. There's more applause.
A familiar scent wafts from the crowd. And there she stands: Natasha Romanoff with immaculate red curls, a black pencil skirt, and a white blouse peeking out underneath a black overcoat to combat the chill in the air. She looks more Natalie than yesterday, particularly dressed in her prim and proper business ware compared to Black Widow's skin-tight suit. When others applaud, she joins in politely with a small, serene, smile playing on her lips.
*
One person in the crowd, however, doesn't clap. Perhaps that's because he holds a cane. Surely, it can't be because he is against the community. Whatever the reason, Matt Murdock, clad in a black suit with a grey tie, stands there at the proceedings, listening to the words in a motionless manner. He looks nice enough, but could have done the favor of shaving. And just then he catches a whiff, and his head begins to turn in her direction.
*
Fisk finishes cutting the ribbon and he straightens with a vague cheer. "Now, please, friends, partake in the snacks prepared for us inside. My lovely Vanessa," he motions towards Missus Fisk, "and I will be happy to chat about plans and the ways in which we hope this place helps our community."
With that said, he shuffles inside. The easy smile on Natasha's lips hitches up a tad higher when she watches the crowd tread inside. She moves towards one of the Fisk bodyguards and touches his arm. If Matt pays attention, he may catch the familiar voice, but a very unfamiliar cadence — Natalie speaks faster than Natasha. Brighter. Bubblier. "Do be a dear and make sure Mister and Missus Fisk aren't inundated with the crowd? Mister Fisk does hate that level of attention — "
The guard responds easily to the touch. His pulse increases, and he nods solemnly. "Of course, Miss Rushman."
Nat lowers her arm as the bodyguard moves into the building. She twists in her high heels and casts a glances towards Matt, but makes no movement towards him.
*
Matt moves along with the crowd towards the refreshments. When Natalie Rushman looks to him, he looks back towards her, but likewise makes no movement towards her. Instead, he follows the large man, but keeps his distance from the pair, instead heading over towards the cocktail weenies. Who doesn't like cocktail weenies?
*
An easy smile follows the shared glance, but moments pass as she's drawn back into matters at hand. "Miss Rushman," another of the security guards steps towards her, "we have need — "
Natalie virtually beams as she rolls her eyes and pat's the man's shirt pocket, "Men. I swear, you rascals would all get yourselves in a tizzy if it weren't for us women. Secretaries make the world go round. A second copy of Mister Fisk's talking points can be found in his right lapel pocket. If strapped, Missus Fisk has them in her handbag as well." Her smile sparkles as the man retreats.
With that handled, she finally steps to the refreshment table. "Those," the cocktail weenies, "were purchased just down the street at Mac's Meats. Everything here is from locally owned and sourced businesses. I suspect you're probably more familiar than I am with them." She emits a chuckle, "Unless you're one of Mister Fisk's groupies and not at all from the neighbourhood."
*
Matt raises his eyebrow at her and then listens around to see how close of proximity the other people are. Clearly she's working on something, but yet playful with him. "I am from the neighborhood," he says, which she knows. "I grew up here." And will probably die here, he doesn't say. He takes one of the appetizers and removes the stick before placing it on his plate. "Groupie," he repeats, the idea, clearly disowning it as he shakes his head.
*
"Groupies do exist, you know," Natalie offers brightly before resting a hand on Matt's arm. "Mister Fisk has quite the fan following." She leaves her hand there a beat before asking, "So, just here for the free food? I noticed you weren't particularly impressed with the new centre — or, maybe you were. Hard to tell sometimes." There's an easiness to Natalie that Natasha never had. Enough that she really does seem like a different person. Angles abound, it seems.
Meanwhile, in the far corner of the room, the Fisks answer many questions about the building — all of which Matt can hear. One thing he catches that might be of note is regarding whether Fisk himself intends to spend any time here, "Well," he smiles, "you'll have to check with my secretary, Natalie. If the schedule allows, we will make time."
*
Matt's shoulders roll back and he smirks at Natalie with a slight shake to his head. "Well, they say there's no such thing as a free lunch." He is listening to Fisk and then to Natalie at the same time. "Tell me, have you been working for Wilson Fisk very long?" If Nat is working under cover to get info on Fisk, then suddenly Matt's gears in his brain begin moving. "How is he to work for?"
*
Natalie's eyebrows lift and she stifles a giggle behind a splay of fingers, clearly impressed by Matt's deductive skills. Her smile grows, however, at the notion, "Well…" her gaze turns upwards "…only a few months. Since December." There's a long pause as she considers the last, "He's good to me. Truly. I don't think many secretaries get the kind of sway I do. And as his personal assistant? I get to see the inner workings of Fisk Industries. It's like an education and a job all in one." She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
*
"Well I'm glad you found somewhere to stay for a while. Stay and learn," Matt says as he reaches for one of the glasses of water. "Any long term plans for your career Miss….what is it? Rushman?" He raises his eyebrow, making a reference to her, but also making a quip towards the real Natasha.
*
"Miss Rushman is correct, but Natalie is fine," Nat finally lowers her hand from Matt's arm. "Truly. Only the bodyguards call me Miss Rushman. Not even Mister Fisk refers to me as such," she giggles lightly. It's surprisingly convincing. "Like all with jobs, I stay when there's work to do," she replies easily. "Not forever, but for awhile." She shoots him a bright grin. "And yourself, Mister uh — "
*
"Matt. Murdock," he adds the latter with a smile as he goes through the conversation with words she already knows. "You seem like you must be pretty good at your work to land a job with such a prestigious businessman," Matt adds.
*
"Matthew or just Matt?" Natalie's head tilts and her eyes narrow. "You look more like a Matthew — "
But even as she says the phrase, a foreboding figure cuts a path to the pair. Wilson Fisk, with his wife Vanessa on his arm, strides towards them, interrupting the conversation. "Natalie," he lifts a hand towards Matt in apology despite Matt being blind, "do you know if we have room for a visit here early next week?"
An apologetic smile is shot to Matt and she turns back towards Fisk, "I can always make room, Mister Fisk." Her smile eases some.
Meanwhile, tucked on Wilson's arm the entire time, Vanessa glances between Natalie and Matt, and reaches out to squeeze Matt's arm. "Natalie, do introduce us to your friend?"
"Oh! We've only just met!" Natalie defends quickly before shaking her head, "Excuse my manners, please. Mister Fisk, Missus Fisk, this is Matt Murdock. He lives here in Hell's Kitchen, just a member of the neighborhood." She smiles easily.
*
Matt looks up towards Wilson and over towards Vanessa with a faint smile. "It's nice to meet the both of you," he lies. "Growing up here in this neighborhood I'm happy you have built something for the community. A lot of the kids around here are going to appreciate it." He's slightly more truthful about the other stuff.
*
"Pleasure to meet you, Mister Murdock," Wilson replies easily. "What kind of work do you do around here?"
And at Fisk's asking of the question, if he's paying attention, Matt can sense the faintest spike in Nat's heartbeat, but otherwise there are no indications anything is amiss. Her hands clasp lightly behind her back and her easy smile remains.
"Dear," Vanessa chides, "now is not the time for business. It's the weekend, and already you've taken up far too much of Natalie's time." She glances between Natalie and Matt, and then offers, "Besides, I suspect these two may want to chat more elsewhere. Like lunch. I've heard there are many good restaurants around here," her gaze actually warms. Yes, it seems that Vanessa Fisk is setting them up.
*
"Law, sir," Matt says with a nod and a forced grin towards the large man. Maybe it's just how one grins when one is blind." The spike in Nat's heartbeat is surprising, but he keeps his cool. "Restaurants?" Matt says with his low, semi-laugh, "I know a couple around here."
*
"Law? Like… a lawyer?" Fisk asks, seemingly ignoring Vanessa's request to stay away from all things business. His lips quirk into a nearly feline manner and Vanessa shakes her head. "Forgive me, Mister Murdock, but I could always use more help on my legal team. You'll have to get me a card."
Vanessa rolls her eyes. "Enough shop talk," she chides. "Forgive us, Mister Murdock. Wilson has one thing and one thing on his mind, I'm afraid: business. And," there's a laugh in her voice, "I'm afraid poor Natalie here is subjected to it all the time. That said, you two should go have lunch. We would join you, but I must find a way to keep my husband from working seven days a week — or making his secretary," her gaze flits to Natalie, "do the same." A feline smile draws at her features.
"Oh!" Natalie's cheeks flush. Yes, it appears Nat can flush. Maybe on cue. "I wasn't… I mean, if Mister Murdock is so inclined, but I'd never presume — "
*
"Something like that," Matt says cryptically towards Fisk, but breaks his 'gaze' and turns to Vanessa. "Of course, ma'am." He nods, "I think I would like to have lunch with Miss Rushman very much." His eyebrow raises over towards Natalia as he cracks a bit of a smile.
*
"As you should," Vanessa replies easily to Matt. "She's pretty enough that I'd be jealous that Wilson hired her if she wasn't so talented." Natalie's eyes widen at the assertion, but Vanessa doesn't react to the expression. Instead, she links arms with her husband. "You two go have fun. Eat lunch. Be young," her smile turns feline. "And enjoy."
Natalie swallows hard as the Fisks retreat. "Huh." Her expression softens some and she clears her throat as she reaches for Matt's arm. It's part of walking with a blind man, after all. A small smile tugs at her lips, "So. Lunch. I swear, I had no idea that was going to happen," she murmurs softly.
*
Matt takes Natalie by the arm and begins to lead her towards the door. "It's alright," Matt says with a smile. "I know a place." He leads her out of the building and to the right, towards Ned's. Then, he drops the schtick. "Fisk?" he says as they walk along.
*
Unlike Matt, Natasha's mask is one worn in daylight. But at the question, it seems that the mask disappears. "It's a job," she offers in return, finding her own cadence, tone, and general vibration once more. Her lips quirk to the side, "I know you don't like him." There's a pause. "Why?" There's nothing tense or demanding in her voice, just the simple matter-of-fact way she takes to speaking more often than not.
*
"Just have never trusted him. Something about him. I don't care for him," Matt says as the stop at the crosswalk. "Are you on a job or are you in between jobs?" he asks. Scraping the pavement with his cane, idly, he turns his head towards her for the first time with a smile.
*
"Neither," Natasha answers honestly. "He's a good boss, don't get me wrong. His employees love him." She shakes her head. "I hadn't expected that." The last question, with its smile actually grants her pause. She studies the smile a few beats, and with one of her own, shakes her head slightly in comical disbelief. "You already know." Her smile eases and she stifles a vague chuckle in the back of her throat.
*
"Are we still going to lunch or is that fake too?" Matt says to her. The light has turned green, and throngs of people walk /around/ the pair. For all of his worry about the neighborhood, he seems to pay it no mind as nearly half of it seems to have to walk around them.
*
"If you want lunch," Natasha offers in return. Her expression stiffens some and she considers, "I don't want you to feel obligated. I didn't come back here to interrupt your life and whatever normalcy you've managed to carve out with your practice, your friend, or anyone significant in your life," her tone manages to stay even like this is an everyday conversation. "If you're not up to it, I can handle the Fisks and any questions they have."
*
"Nah, actually, I kind of wanted to go out to lunch with you. Go through our normal charade of me asking you questions that you won't answer and you teasing me with that smile of yours. Come on. There's a place not far from Josie's. Greasy spoon. American food. You'll love it." Matt leads her away from the throngs of people as they walk down a more secluded street. "It's still the same group," Matt adds. "There's just Foggy and Karen. Although a few days ago I found out that Elektra was back," Matt says quietly as he leads her along.
*
"Well, you did always seem to have a soft spot for Karen," Nat suggests lowly despite still holding on to Matt's arm. "Greasy lunch sounds perfect though." The notion of Elektra being back causes Nat to emit a slow breath, "I imagine you're doing well enough with that news?" she lifts a wry eyebrow.
*
"She's my secretary," Matt says quietly. "There's nothing between us. Am I to ask if Mr. Fisk has made a move on you?" After a split second pause, "Don't answer that question. I don't think my heart can take it." When she says Elektra's name, Matthew breathes deep and lets out of a sigh. "She believes she's changed, or is trying to. She seemed almost puppy-like." Matt raises his eyebrow. "I sense a trick."
*
"You don't even believe that," Natasha answers wryly about nothing between him and Karen. A smirk follows his own question, "Mister Fisk is painfully devoted to his wife." It doesn't exactly answer Matt's question. "I don't think people change. Not really," Nat offers in reply to the notion of Elektra changing. "Do you?" She allows a silence to form between them.
*
Matt does nothing to stop the silence for a long while as he walks along with her on his arm. After pondering it for several moments he nods. "I hope so." And then comes the exhale, "But I'm not really sure." His hand comes up across the street. About the most stereotypical diner in all the stereotypical diners in all of the world sits on the next block over. "Should be right over there if I'm not mistaken."
*
"Even if she has, be careful, Matt." The warning is oddly sincere, and not laced with any hint of jealousy or anger. "I always thought you needed someone… normal. Sincere. She's not that person. Even if she has changed." There's a pause. "I'm not that person." When the Diner enters eyeshot, a faint chuckle emits from the back of Nat's throat. "You weren't kidding. That's a place for the history books," her nose wrinkles and she shakes her head.
*
"Yes, you made the idea that you were not that person very clear to me some time ago." Matt leads her along and shrugs his shoulders, "If you don't like it, you can eat a lone. But I for one want a bacon cheeseburger and I for one can tell you it is a long ass walk to find a better one anywhere else in this town."
*
Matt's assertion at the first is met with a feline slit of Natasha's eyes, but she lets it go in silence. "Not a critique," Natasha assures about the Diner. "Just the simple fact of the matter." She presses her lips together into a thin line, and for a moment, she toys with something in her mind only to let it go. Instead, she quietly notes, "I left for you." And as little sense as that might make, there's absolutely no indication she's lying.
*
"Bullshit," Matt says, but he doesn't stop his stride. "You didn't need my protection and I didn't need yours." That she doesn't believe she's lying doesn't make her truthful, at least that's the way Matt sees it. "You didn't feel the same way. You don't need to create stories to give it some sort of happy ending."
*
Nat stops dead in her tracks. "Dammit Matt Murdock, I still love you," it's not puppy-like, but it's as earnest as Natasha gets. "And it's not a story. It wasn't about protection, it's about what you want out of life, Matt. What you deserve to have." Her chin drops and she stares at her feet a few beats. But then she resumes her paces towards the Diner, having put on Natalie again for a few beats at least.
*
"If you did, you wouldn't have left," Matt says quietly. Again, he doesn't seem angry. Anyone on the streets who is privy, or any super powered individual who may be listening might marvel at how matter of fact it all is. Almost as if they are discussing the various mortgage options offered by banks.
*
"It's why I left," Natasha states as the pair enter the Diner. She guides them to a table and waits for Matt to have a seat. She doesn't continue the conversation until she's also sitting. "I'm — " her eyes lid lightly and she inhales a long breath as she plucks one of the menus from the table " — not sure what's real." There's a long pause that follows that. "I've spent the last few years culling the fact from the fiction."
*
Matt is shrugging out of his sports coat and he reaches up to remove his tie, "What about /me/ makes you think I wanted normal? Or that you were saving me? You think that little demons running around are in my future?" He laughs, sarcastically. "There is no end game for the devil that ends with a picket fence. That might be what you want for me, but that, in itself, is fiction."
*
The invitation has Nat putting down the menu. "You grasp at normal with a day life that is consistent. It gives you friends. You want something that allows a separation between two versions of yourself. One that is idyllic in saving the world above board, the other calls attention to people's greater demons and takes them out one at a time. The two versions of yourself mean that you still grapple to have something normal." She emits a soft breath. "But no, those are the fictions I have been working through."
A waitress stands at attention to their right, earning a very Natalie grin. "What can I get you folks?"
"Bacon cheeseburger," Nat orders. "And a coke." She turns her gaze to Matt expectantly.
*
"Same, please," Matt says, taking a time out from their argument to go full on polite. Once the waitress is gone, he's right back into lawyer mode. "I work both sides because it helps me with my life at night. I have friends, yeah, people I care about. And so do you. You'd make it seem like you don't have any attachments." His words are in a whisper, so their intensity doesn't cause suspicion. The deeper she goes, the more irritated he seems to become. "I don't believe that's the truth."
*
With the waitress gone, Natasha just continues in Natalie's skin, easily wearing the other persona's mannerisms, cadence, and tone with her own words. The effect is eerie as she asks in that doe-eyed way about Natalie, "Then what do you believe, Matt. You don't believe that I loved you, but you don't believe I don't have attachments. So who is left in my circle?" Her head cants to the side. "Your logic has become circular already."
*
Matt sighs, knowing he's lost. Which happens every, single, time, ever that his emotions get the best of him. And, just like always, Natasha has him beaten. Just like old times. He sits back, frustrated, but part of it is why he loves her. "So? I'm an American. I don't need logic."
*
"I'm Russian, I do. It keeps us warm in the winter," Natasha finally loses Natalie's bubbliness. She watches him carefully. "That and our tempers." She inhales a long breath, holds it, and then releases it slowly. "And besides, you're a lawyer, don't you logic for a living?"
*
"I'm a lot better at law than I am about relationships. Even old ones, apparently," Matt replies as he exhales and straightens. "Save room for pie. It's really good here," he says, changing the subject.
*
"Then I'll assume last night's rejection a mark on my character," Natasha offers. And as she does so, the waitress drops off two cokes before disappearing again. "I'll remember that." Pause. "About the pie, I mean. I keep up with all of my martial arts."
*
"Rejection?" Matt shakes his head. "I thought you were protecting me? I didn't think of that as a real offer. Besides, I was half sure you were in town just to spy on me."
*
"It was a real offer. If you'd taken it," Natasha brings the straw of her coke to her lips and sips lightly. "I'm working a job. A real job. Longer term than alluded to last night." She quirks a smile at Matt and shakes her head, "You're not the job, Murdock. But it's flattering to think that you might assume so."
*
"Flattering to you or was I flattering myself?" Matt says with a bit of a laugh. "And to think I spent last night alone," Matt admits. "I should have taken you up on the offer. I figured it was a trick."
*
"Some of column A. Some of column B." Nat shrugs and inhales a long breath. "Hard to resist a man in vinyl. And you should've. I've heard I'm very good." She drums her fingers on the table and chuckles at the notion of tricks, "No trick there. Just opportunity. Interesting I ran into you again today."
*
"You are very good, as I remember," Matt says. Of course, he wouldn't likely forget for many, many years longer than the last time. "Maybe it's a sign. Or maybe I just have a healthy suspicion of your boss. We have both always attracted big names. Maybe it's not that much of a coincidence."
*
"It's a talent." Natasha hums at the notion of suspecting her boss. "In case you're wondering, I'm just his secretary." Her head cants and she watches Matt carefully. "He knows nothing of my other talents." Her eyes narrow slightly and she sips her coke again. And then, lowly, she adds, "And you're right to be suspicious."
*
The itch that Matt can't scratch is driving him crazy, but he keeps it in. "I am?" he asks, putting that to the side. "Give me more," he says. He's pleading, but not in his voice, just in the request.
*
"The people I work for wanted me to get close to him to access their files," Natasha offers in return. "I have my own suspicions." There's a long few beats. "He's been funding the police initiative for the powered police force. He wasn't supposed to be — the money he donated was supposed to be routed to the park restoration. It's not. He's funding the police directly." Her lips purse. There's more. It's obvious. But she seals them as the waitress comes and drops off their burgers. Immediately, she opens the top bun to add a thick layer of ketchup. Old habits die hard.
*
"How much more?" Matt asks as he waits for her to finish with the ketchup. For him: just a dab. Too much sugar will make him slow, especially if he's needed somewhere tonight. "Why does …" And then Matt stops coldly. "I see."
*
"What do you see, Matt?" Natasha asks quietly after passing the ketchup. She takes a bite of her burger and then eyes him warily. "Why does — ?" she tries to coax him to finish the question.
*
"He wants to control the police department so he can control the city. Did you feel the way he looked at me when he heard I was a lawyer? I can't even see and I could feel his eyes on me."
*
Skali has left.
*
"…yeah," comes Nat's response to the first assertion. She inhales a long breath at the last, "I knew it was coming when he asked the question. He's trying to get everyone in his pocket. But it's more than that. I think he conspired to have the police force become a thing at all." Nat's eyes focus on Matt's glasses. "Before joining Fisk, I spent time in the jail with those powered folks picked up that led to the city's cry for a solution." Her nostrils flare. Her gaze deadens. "They weren't so powered once in prison."
*
"So he's building a super powered force, but laying low underneath the guise of a police force?" Matt says, taking a french fry. "That's pretty brilliant. How does he turn them into powered?"
*
Natasha ducks her head down. "The goons he got to instigate the whole thing were on a drug — a modified version of it." Her lips hitch up on one side, "It temporarily renders people able to get powers. The goons I talked to," who more than willingly gave up the information to an incredibly pretty face, "suggested that they knew the effects ahead of time, but unlike the real version, it minimized any high so they could still do their job."
*
"Any side effects?" Matt asks as he takes another large bite from his burger. It's tough to tell when he's more excited—talking about Nat, or talking with Nat about something like this.
*
"Besides abilities? Well, like its counterpart, it's less addictive. Gives a boost, and people seem desperate for it. But," Natasha rubs her cheek, "I can't tell if it's addictive because of the boost or besides it. Like, it's possible ordinary people want to be extraordinary." Her eyebrows lift at that and she takes a bite of her burger.
*
Matt sits back in his chair and nods, thinking about something. "Are we working together on this? Or does your current employer conflict with that?"
*
Nat levels a look at Matt, pensive, and truly considering the thought. He can probably sense something is off, even as her heartbeat never fluctuates. "We can work together on it," she replies easily enough, but something still feels unspoken between them. She takes another bite of her burger, "I wouldn't have told you if I wasn't inviting some semblance of help." There's a pause. "But," and of course there's a but, "you can't ask questions about my employer. If I tell you something, that's my prerogative, but you can't ask."
*
"That's fair," Matt replies. "Alternatively, you're not allowed to tell me who and who I shouldn't be with. Or use my religion against me. So long as we're in the deal making portion, here."
*
A smirk follows the thought. "Fine. It's not like I expected you to listen anyways." The mention of not using his religion against him has Natasha's eyebrows lifting, "And here I thought I didn't leave an impression last night," her tongue clucks and then she nods. "Alright. I won't say anything about Catholicism. Or God. Or Catholic guilt."
*
"And because I know how hard it is to avoid pointing out my faith, I promise not to bring up the hypocrisy of leaving me out of love, and then coming back and offering to sleep with me," Matt says, finally just saying what has been bothering him the entire time. "Seems like we're partners again."
*
"Not hypocrisy as much as weakness," Nat muses. She takes another few bites of her burger and then sets the plate aside. "But if it makes you feel better, I can put that in check. As an aside, in uttering it you already pointed it out. So. Well done, Murdock." Smiiiiiile.
*
"I think you have a really solid knowledge about what makes me feel better," Matt counters, smiling right back. "And lawyers have a way of asking questions or pointing things out. The judge can call it objections, but the damage is still done."
*
"Clearly you should spell it out for me," Natasha replies evenly. "You spelled multiple points already. Why not this one?" She drums her fingers on the table. "Tell me what you want. WE'll work it into our terms of reference." Her lips purse. "Was corporate law ever your forte?"
*
"Spelling it out isn't very fun. But, if you remember the night in Queens in that terrible hotel, you have some idea," Matt says with a chuckle. "I just want to know more about Fisk. Specifics." He pauses and raises an eyebrow, "Corporate law was what Foggy and I did when we first got out. Before we started our practice."
*
Natasha hums softly. "It was a terrible hotel. But a pretty fantastic night, if I recall. Even moreso because we'd broken in." Her lips curve upwards. "And it was pouring." The thought of Fisk, however, has her head dipping down, "He's trying to own the police, but he's also leveraging the Kitchen. I don't know what for. Not really. The document I took last night was his lease agreement with the city for the community centre. Fisk Industries owns it." Her expression softens, "Well, they did. Until I changed documents, including signatures. It's now owned by the Kitchen. I don't think an expert could've seen the forgery."
*
Matt smiles and slaps the table with a bit of gusto, "That's my girl." He's beaming. "Fisk is going to be so pissed. Why do you think those thugs wanted to bring the building down?"
*
There's a flicker of a smile at the thought, nearly shy. "He is going to be incredibly pissed," Natasha offers in return. "But it didn't make sense. So I fixed it." Her lips twit to the side and she considers the last, "There's a lot more in there than the land lease. It's possible the files have more we should look into."
*
"When do you want to go back?" Matt asks as he finishes his burger. From there he's onto the soda, but his attention, as it is far too much of the time, is on Natasha.
*
"Give it a couple nights. We need to get there before they try again, but with the police the other night," Natasha's head shakes. She levels a look at him, silent, calculating, and all-too-weighty. Slowly, nearly silently, her hand slides across the table for his. She hesitates just shy though, letting it rest adjacent his soda, and wholly aware that anyone looking will assume she lost her nerve, knowing full-well her companion is blind and won't take stock. She knows better. And so she just keeps her hand there.
*
It doesn't wait there long before Matt takes it. "I guess we'll have to figure out what we plan to do over the course of the next few nights," Matt says to her with a tilt of his head. "Check please," he calls out to the waitress, turning over his shoudler.
*
Natasha grasps Matt's hand in turn and draws lightly along its back. The patterns are indiscernible shapes, but strangely affectionate. And, likely nostalgic. People don't really change. "And here I thought you wanted to save me from hypocrisy." Her eyes narrow slightly. Pause. "Or are you not thinking of the last time your hands felt the curve of my bare breast and hip, the last time your lips tasted by chapstick, or how the faint smell of my jasmine perfume lingered on your skin for days, even after showering?" The words are spoken too innocently. Not remotely scandalously despite their phrasing. And then, more professionally, she adds, "As I said, I can lock such weakness now, if you would prefer."
*
"And like I said," Matt fumbles with his wallet in his off hand, leaving more than a heavy tip. Fuck the bill. "I'm a Catholic. We're nothing without a little hypocrisy. It's why we go to confession." He gets up to leave, dragging her with, should she choose to allow herself to be.
*
Nat is easily dragged. A smirk plays over her features as she's tugged through the doorway. "Bad hotel in Queens, or — ?" there's no way he can miss the note of mischief in her tone.
*
"My place is quicker," Matt says as the bell to the door clangs loud between his ears. He leads them briskly back towards the way they came. His apartment is not far away.
*
The walk is easy enough. Matt's apartment is an easy distance, and Nat mostly assumes silence as they move. After the door is opened and the pair are inside, her arms easily wrap around his neck. Her lips trace the line of his jaw, and she pauses to look at him thoughtfully. "Just once," she murmurs quietly. Even as she says it, she knows it's a lie. There's little question he does too.
*
"Just once," he repeats as he throws his glasses up onto the counter as they slide across, then clear off and into the sink. His hands reach around her waist as he tousles her read hair.
*
Her lips meet his in a wonderfully familiar kiss. Everything over the next hours of company had been familiar. Nostalgia seemed to rule the entirety, including the way Natasha fell asleep against him once it was all over. And, unsurprisingly, before the sun, she'd left — as silently as possible so as not to wake him.
More surprisingly was the small piece of paper on the bed next to Matt with its lipstick print and a phone number.