Eve has always been older and wiser.
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.
So maybe Matt signed up for this, but Foggy sure didn't — this thing that's eating his friend alive. Matt's back is to the wall, and Foggy is very very close, daring Matt to hit him maybe or wanting the scene to dissolve into something else — into Matt's arm snaked through his, maybe. Something from before.
**
Matt's just there to pick up his things, and Foggy's about ready to wrap their collaboration up for good. Things go a little sideways for both of them.
Of all the prisons in which she's spent time, Lotus Pier may be the kindest.
"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.