Eve has always been older and wiser.

It is the heart of the jungle that makes roots that spread below the ground.

Vindice makes ready for an assignation.

(Written for forthegothicheroine's prompt: "Vindici if the Duke and his family were vampires.")

Andrew makes for a bad date, even when he's not the one paying. Fletcher is determined to drag him all over New York or die trying.

"Don't slouch, Maxine, it makes you look common," says Barbara.

Balls and chains are for pens at the bank, and he's never seen a pen that looked like it could survive a level three nuclear holocaust.

"You're Murdock's second in command."

"We're partners," Foggy says, but he can't not trip over the words because it's fucking cold in here and his tongue feels swollen in his mouth. Maybe he's got a chipped tooth. "That's how lawyers work, we're partners."

This guy knows about Matt. He fucking knows.

Young Feyd is accustomed to being wanted. Piter is profoundly uninterested.

No inch of his bared skin is a revelation to Tang Fan, but stripping before him still feels like an unveiling, marital. A deification of the profane.