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[Natasha doesn't have an immediate answer for that. His experience and his frame of reference are too different from her own, and she doesn't want to make an argument here.

It's not like she thinks she'd be in the right. Not morally, anyway. She comes from a world where there always are and always have been people above the law—people who acted in the names of governments or ideals, people who got their hands dirty so that other people could believe they lived in a simpler world than they really did.

But she wants to be honest with him, in her way. After a few beats, she finally responds.]

I respect your clarity.

[That's a particularly fine hair to split, isn't it?]

It doesn't sound like a very easy road you picked. I'm not sure I could do what I do if I thought that way—or what you do.

[Absolutely not what she does. What she does leaves a lot of bodies.]

Beating yourself up like this, though—there's not always a right answer, Matt. All the guilt in the world never brought back the dead. It just makes it harder to sleep at night.

Guilt isn't always a bad thing.

[ What a good Catholic you are, Matt. ]

This thing with Connor. I know it was the right thing to do. I know it prevented more people from getting hurt, I just... don't know where to draw the line anymore. If I can kill a friend to save people-- if eating one human stops a monster from rampaging and killing several more... I've felt these things myself. I know it's true, but when does it stop?

[ That's what the fear comes down to for Matt. That's what's eating him from the inside, bringing him back to that night, killing his friend.

He'd just done it and he doesn't regret it and that scares him more than anything else. His voice wavers, breaths short. ]

I'm changing. More than the horns or the tail or the hooves, I'm worried about... when people stop feeling like people. When murder becomes okay. That's not who I am, but I can see it coming. I'll get so used to it, I'll just not--not care anymore.

Somehow, I don't see that in your future.

[She says it softly, with real sympathy. She's not always comfortable with sympathy.]

Not any time soon, at least. And we're not going to be here forever.

[Reaching across the table then, she lays her fingers lightly on the back of his wrist. The claws don't touch his skin.]

A lot of people were like that before they came here. Being inhumane because it's expedient isn't unique to Ryslig. Maybe it's harder to avoid here, but it's not new.

[ Matt smiles sadly, hearing enough honesty in her voice to know it's somewhat of a rare gesture. He'll never stop worrying, but it's nice of her to say so. ]

Thanks.

[ He hates this place; he's hating it even more every day. However people leave or get home, he hopes it happens to him before pragmatism wears down his resolve. He's got a lot of it, but this place has already made him break his biggest rule. It might not take as long as Nat thinks. ]

Just means I have to try harder. Even if... well, some people don't understand.

[ It's a thankless job, that's for sure. I mean it's not even a job at all and Matt still suffers for it. He turns his palm over, offering her his hand. Her touch is soothing. Matt's a tactile guy. ]

I guess it comes down to how long we can keep being human. Even when we're not.

[ Matt doesn't ever want to stop. Then again, he's pretty used to faking things for most of his life. ]

Edited 2015-12-31 00:59 (UTC)

[Her hand slips over his, still very careful to keep her claws from touching his skin. It's probably selfish, but there's something comforting about the fact he can't see them, or the fangs, or the spider legs when they come in. She can at least pretend he's not aware of them, though she knows he's more perceptive than she's pretending.]

Yeah, something like that. It's not exactly easy, but you don't seem like an easy kind of guy.

[ Hey, he can probably handle claws, it's cool. He has that effect on most women. Much as he can perceive and sense her changes, he'd never comment or assume what they look like without thoroughly 'examining' them first.

This shit writes itself, man. Natasha totally handed him this one, and he's taking it. ]

Not for this, anyway.

[ Hey, at least flirting gets him to smile. ]

You know, I'm pretty sure that's a sin too. At least if you do it right.

[Teasing now. She likes teasing. Distraction seems to her like a better idea than dwelling ceaselessly. While she doesn't think that's the end of the topic, she's more than happy to take a lighter direction.]

Those aren't as bad.

[ Matt laughs, shrugging but certainly not moving his hand from hers. Busted. ]

You know, a scale of 1 to murder, it's pretty far down.

[ You know what else could be pretty far down? /rimshot ]

Oh, just going to softball it in like that. I might take it for encouragement.

[She might push it, but she she has to agree that one sin's a whole lot more victimless than the other.]

How far down were you thinking of?

I'm not stopping you.

[ That's a sin by omission, but like he said, there are much worse. ]

Depends. How far down are you willing to go?

[That moment when remembering you're turning into a monster ruins flirting.]

Well, I don't know. Things might get a little weird down there these days.

[ That's only if you lack imagination, Natasha. I mean, he can definitely hear the strange sound of her breathing, but he also doesn't care if she's visually attractive or what. Blind guy don't curr. ]

It wouldn't exactly scare me away. [ Are you doing this, Matt. You're doing this. ] I mean, I'm more of tactile guy. Plus I've got hooves and my legs are covered in fur. Weird is pretty relative.

[She snorts a little at that, perhaps not entirely convinced. Her life is pretty strange right now; there's still a limit on how strange she can see it becoming.]

Oh, I remember. I didn't expect you to be scared off...

[It might not entirely be fair—but call it trial by fire.

Natasha stands, still holding his hand, and rounds the table to sit in the booth beside him. If he doesn't pull away, she guides his hand under the table and down to her lower leg, so he can feel the way her calf is pulling apart through the fabric of her skirt—like a bundle of four malformed spider legs held together by the remains of her human legs.]

Just maybe not interested.

[ Matt follows her lead, letting her guide his hand until she's seated next to him.

Yikes. Well, that's admittedly pretty strange. He knows she's becoming an arachne, but for a guy like him, a mental picture is just a blur unless he can actually feel it. While he may not be immediately on board for getting frisky, he doesn't pull away. He isn't repulsed, more than anything he's... curious.

But yeah, yikes. Maybe he's more concerned for her than concerned about getting off right at the moment. ]

Does it hurt?

[Maybe she should have given Matt more credit, because his concern surprises her.

Or maybe she's just not very good at letting people worry about her.]

Yeah. It does.

[She draws her hand away, folding both of them on the table in front of her.]

I manage, though. It's not debilitating.

[Which is why no fewer than three people have tried to get her to use a wheelchair.]

Mostly it's fine as long as I'm sitting.

[ "Not debilitating" could mean a lot of things for people like them, but Matt gets it. He never let his legs keep him from walking or doing anything he needed to. Natasha's changes might be coming slowly, but it's the same idea. ]

Well, as long as you're sitting...? I can always wait. [ He smirks, letting his hand rest over hers though his words are mostly joking. If she's not comfortable, he isn't going to try anything. But god forbid he give her something like sympathy, he knows she's not asking for that. He's a worrier, you know how it is. ]

How long have they been like this?

Edited (icon) 2015-12-31 21:21 (UTC)

It started a little before the Christmas party. It's just progressed since then.

[She shrugs a little. Well, he's still willing to touch her at least. Still...]

I was asking for painkillers for a reason. It's fine, though. I can manage with them.

Damn. Didn't realize it was a constant thing.

[ He reaches around on the table with his free hand, finding his glass (well, her glass, technically,) and offering her the rest. ]

Here. Maybe we can get that bottle after all.

It has been, more or less. [She accepts the glass and finishes it in one swallow, then sighs and leans against his shoulder. Might not be exciting, but she finds she wants the contact. Call it mutually comforting.]

That's not a bad idea. Can't say we haven't earned it.

[ Matt leans his head against hers as she presses up to him. It's more for comfort, and he's totally fine with that. Sounds like they both need it right about now. ]

I'll get it. [ They're in a booth and she's technically in his way, but Matt can also tell they're far enough away that no one's paying them much attention. So it wouldn't be weird for him to move their empty glasses aside and kind of just put his weight on the table to pull his legs out a not-flip to get out without bothering her.

Don't worry, he makes sure to adjust his shirt and tie once he's standing again. Is he showing off? He's showing off. But judging by the sounds around him, no one was looking. Or if they were, they probably can't believe that they saw. ]

Be right back.

[At least one person saw it. She might be as impressed as the average spectator though. Not that she's not impressed, but it's tempered by wry humor and the knowledge that he is showing off. That, having seen a superhero or two already.]

You know, I think you've just been waiting to do that.

[She can't actually claim that she minds though. If he wants to show off, he can. She's okay getting comfortable in the booth. She keeps an eye on him as he goes. The bar largely ignores both of them, which is exactly how she likes it.

When he gets back, she comments:]

You know I'm going to have to ask where you learned to do that.

[ Matt smiles. He denies nothing, instead making his way to the bar (without his cane) and returning with a bottle of whiskey. All without bumping into a single person. If he's going to show off, he's gotta do it right. ]

Would you believe me if I said I learned it from an old man named Stick?

[ He joins her on the same side of the booth, sliding the bottle over till it clinks on her glass. He still has to feel around for the other one, but once he's made contact with them he pours them each a drink without turning his gaze towards his hands. Just blind things. ]

You can ask me about the blind thing now, if you want.

[If he was going to offer like that, how could she pass up? She scoots over to make room for him, pouring for both of them as she does.]

I believe it. But I am gonna ask... Tell me about it? The blind thing. [She's intentionally vague, letting him decide what he wants to share.]

Edited 2016-01-01 04:49 (UTC)

Lost my vision when I was nine. Car accident-- knocked an old man out of the way and ended up with chemicals splashed in my eyes for the trouble.

[ He sets the bottle down, stirring his drink needlessly. He hasn't told this part of the story to too many people, but she's kind of a superhero. There's really no point in hiding it. ]

That's when I got my senses enhanced too. It's different here-- but back home, I could hear a heartbeat in another room, pick up police chatter from a block away, or tell you what you had for lunch three days ago just by smelling your breath. That sort of thing. Everything from my balance to my heat perception was... well, it was intense.

Heat perception huh? [There's a smirk in her voice when she says that.

His story makes sense. She didn't doubt a blind man could do most things, day to day, as well as most people; fighting crime wasn't most people's day to day life. That was dangerous for anyone.]

So you were enhanced. There's more of that out there than it seems like any of us realized.

[She's quick to sip her drink again.]

Maybe I should amend vigilante and go with superhero.

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