"You're a popular man, Mr. Murdock."

And truly, there are very, very few non-Vought-sponsored -or at least not fully Vought-sponsored- events where he could run into the man, but this is not a chance he can waste. Not when he's been looking for one for months.

And while this might not be the best day to approach him, given the way he's still nursing wounds from the previous night -the slightest limp, and some pain when he breathes- and this is a man whose senses might be sharper than Harry's, likely far sharper... Oscorp does not tolerate failure and neither does Harry, all in all.

She's been really busy the last few weeks trying to get everything settled back on Earth-65 so that she can rest easier leaving them behind. Murderdock is behind bars, Cindy Moon and the Rhino with him. She'd done her own time, and her dad was recovering. Convincing him to move too was slower going, especially because he was still wary about the idea of her boyfriend being an alternate version of Murderdock, but once they finally met Gwen was sure they'd be fine.

But texting Matt all day -- her Matt, the good one -- and knowing that he had a surprise for her was a special kind of hell. She'd never been good with the anticipation, impatience often ruining things early, making her eager to find the truth and frankly kind of bitchy to the band when they'd popped by after dinner.

She'd have to apologize for it later. Right now, she's smiling to herself as she climbs in though the skylight he'd taken to leaving unlocked for her, and calls out, "Baby, I'm home!"

@blindbastard asked: "Come to bed? I want to be close to you." (for 65-peter)

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There had been a touch, soft and gentle, to give Peter's mind enough time to pull away from what he was doing without startling. A careful announcement so he could untangle himself from familiar equations and research that had never existed back home. What had Gwen called it the last time he'd spoken with her? Low Super? He wondered if that was why some things were found out here and not there. Engineering and medicince, genetics and energy, weapons. Back home SHIELD and SILK both would have given a lot, been willing to do a lot, to get things like this in their hands. It was so much to try and take in, so much that Peter could keep himself from thinking about other things. The things that still could sting, and hurt, and kept him awake late at night, and seeing so many edges to his own theories being proven right in front of him was so much nicer to focus on-

-he wondered if Matt was happy for him.

Peter blinked away from it and up to where the touch came from, up at Matt. Different and familiar wrapped in one and he didn't know when it stopped making his head spin and violently swing from one reality to the other, but it was easier to see and feel settled about. The different shade of hair that was still just as soft to touch. A body covered in scars to prove a life of fighting but all in different shapes and places, telling different stories. Still walking around where people were dangerous and not faultering a single step as he did, and still looking out for Peter. Or needing him close by to sleep. He blinked again and finally took in the room. How dark it was, not just because the lights were off, "When did you..."

@blindbastard asked ' do i look capable of making healthy life choices? '

He huffed out a small laugh. "Red, you're barking up the wrong tree here." Frank shook his head, wondering why he's even opening with that line. Just look at them; they're both a fucking mess.

With her fingers laced, Natasha stretched her arms over her head and leaned backwards, an attempt at chasing away the soreness of her muscles. When it didn’t work, she huffed, crawled over to the corner of the couch. She laid down across, on top of it, turned upwards to the ceiling. With her legs spread out on the cushions, she let her own body weight pull her torso down towards the floor, stretching out her spine on the arm of the couch. They had spent so long poring through documents and evidence (in four different languages), trying to figure out where this gang war was headed next, that the upside-down view of Matt’s table was a welcome change… even if her glasses were threatening to slip off her face and clatter on the floor. She couldn’t be bothered to fix them.

Gaze shifts towards the doors that open, the minuscule interrogation room making him seem rather large in comparison. not the first time he's gotten into some legal trouble, but the first it's not someone like scott or ororo coming in. Considering he's willing to even stay in the handcuffs linked to the table is a wonder in itself.

". . .A lawyer?"

Exclusive parties like this were an excellent place to gather intel, people drinking and gossiping without a care for who might be overhearing. Natasha had more specific information to gather, conveniently located in an upstairs office where her drive was currently downloading files. It wouldn't be finished for a while, so she had time to kill while she waited, working the room and eavesdropping on conversations. Some of it was quite scandalous, but nothing she'd consider high security.

She made her way to the bar and ordered a drink, something as vivid red as her hair. She was ignoring the man three seats down trying to catch her eye, her gaze settling on the handsome, dark-haired one instead. "One for the gentleman, please," she murmured to the bartender, flicking a glance at him. If she was going to have a little fun of her own, it would be flirting with the most attractive person there, not pretending to be interested while Daddy's Money went on about his jet skis and a house in Tuscany.