[ Matt udoesn't really ever stray from Hell's Kitchen. Usually because he doesn't need to, but there's also the very apparenty fact that he doesn't know other parts of the city to the extent he knows his own neighbourhood. But sometimes, a Devil's gotta do what a Devil's gotta do.
He just didn't think it would take him all the way to Greenwich.
While the trip isn't a total waste of time, in the end, Matt's not exactly successful. Already exhausted from a long chase, his guy get the jump on him, and there's a good chance that he'd finish the job if it weren't for some distant sirens that scared him away. Good, Matt thinks, as he drags himself to sit against the wall of the alley. He can smell the blood seeping out of him.
Just a couple more minutes, he tells himself, then he'll pull himself up and drag his ass back to Hell's Kitchen and deal with this there. ]
[ the funny thing about being a local sorcerer who has to grapple with cosmic realities on a minute-to-minute basis is that you still need to get your own groceries. they don't just appear in the cupboard, thank-you gifts from the universe you have to safeguard. stephen thinks sometimes the least the world could do is get him a free pizza now and then.
he also has to deal with jet lag not infrequently, from all the teleportation. that's why he's making his way back to the sanctum late at night with takeout. as he passes by the darkened alley he uses to cut across a city block he catches out of the corner of his eye a flicker of movement. for a moment he thinks it's just a cat—
it's someone collapsed against the brick, which isn't abnormal for new york, but stephen knows what an injured person looks like. and even though his medical license is due to expire any minute now he stops, squints to make out the darkened figure in the light. ]
You're far from home.
[ it's the loftiness afforded someone who isn't easily frightened, but for people who don't know what he does he mostly just sounds a bit too forward. ]
[ Matt cracks a smile, and he laughs - well. Wheezes. It's not particularly funny save for the fact that people generally freak out either because he's Daredevil or because he's bleeding out or both. Maybe it's a little refreshing to have someone be so blunt.
And calm. ]
I thought I'd do some sight seeing.
[ Now that is funny.
In an attempt to keep up appearances, Matt wraps an arm around his stomach, as if somehow that might hold the blood in and give him some extra strength, and uses the wall to push himself up. Even in the dark, the way he staggers and sways is impossible to miss. ]
In Greenwich Village? [ he steps over quickly and sets down his takeout bag, one hand on matt's back and the other on his front to steady him out as he staggers back against the wall. ]
Hey, easy.
[ there's professional gentleness in that voice, someone who wasn't trained to coddle but rather to instruct. he leans matt against the brick and guides his hands away from the wound, brushing his own fingertips over a tear in the more flexible strip of the man's armor. he pulls his hand back, unsurprised and dismayed to find it wet. he looks him over, jaw set, thinking. ]
[ kind of as a weird nuance, as he's not sure he has the time or inclination to explain, especially since the flow of blood doesn't seem to want to stop anytime soon. his fingers in the dark fold in and then fan out. there's a funny bloom of warmth in matt's side, a trace of magic to slow down the free spill of blood in his side, but his ability to heal the wound altogether isn't instantaneous. ]
Come on. I'm right around the corner.
[ he isn't, technically: the sanctum is still a block and a half down bleecker. but he can reorient reality a little to make it so, and that's just as good. ]
[ Matt seems to always run into a medical professional exactly when he needs one. Normally he'd argue but he can feel how lightheaded he is, and he's not really sure he could figure out how to argue anyway. ]
You're not gonna .... Take my picture and plaster it on social media, are you?
[ He makes it sound like a joke, but it's obvious that he's serious. It's the only thing that makes him hesitate before he follows. ]
[ Columbia isn't so bad. Matt had, of course, been nervous. It's not as if his life has ever been focused around being sociable. Growing up at the orphanage, he'd been angry and isolated himself. And, yeah, obviously school wasn't great. Not only was he blind, but he was smart, and had no parents, and then to top it off, he was being trained to fight an ancient ninja clan.
So. University? That was daunting, even for Matt Murdock.
But he'd ended up with a better than good roommate, and he settled into his classes, and people liked him. Really liked him, actually. And Matt's not complaining.
He's especially not complaining about one Stephen Strange. Matt gets it. Stephen's kind of a jerk, very intelligent and ambitious but kind of a dick. He's got a reputation and Matt's good at hearing people talk, and Foggy's even said a thing or two, but Matt likes him. More or less. Clearly he enjoys Stephen enough to keep going back, and Stephen seems to have some fondness for him.
Maybe it's just because the sex is good and Matt's got enough of a impulsive streak that he doesn't really mind. ]
Did you change your laundry detergent?
[ It's asked with a laugh, as Matt stretches himself out on Stephen's bed, hands behind his head while he turns his nose into the pillow. ]
[ stephen fits at columbia university like a hand in glove. he's new money in the making, the clothes in his closet turning over at an almost unreasonable clip, his bedsheets luxuriously soft. he also dates a lot, which one might expect from a decent-looking guy who also happens to be a dick tearing his way through med school at breakneck speed.
his latest conquest, who probably wouldn't stick around too long if stephen leaned too heavily on the word conquest: matt murdock, law student, dangerously pretty. blind, too, which meant stephen had to rely on his terrible personality rather than his good looks to finally needle him into a night on the town. and that night had led to another night, and another, and another.
he doesn't have any pretenses about how long it'll last - there's a softness to matt that stephen finds quaint, unexpected and golden. but he likes it anyway, likes him, is willing to ride this one out. if only to enjoy that smile a little while longer. plus the sex is, honestly, top-shelf.
tonight's a rare night off, though he has midterms soon. stephen's hanging up as he finishes a takeout order: chinese food, to arrive in an hour. ]
I did. One of those non-toxic, biodegradable, yadda yadda yadda ...
[ he leans against the side of a cabinet for a moment just to smirk across the room at matt. and even though matt can't see it there's a smirk in his voice: ]
I can't help but notice you've been staying over long enough to notice.
Well, I keep saying you can come to my place, but neither you nor Foggy seem to like that idea.
[ Matt laughs and sits up, hair a little askew from the pillow. His head tilts a bit as he gazes in Stephen’s direction. ]
Anyway, I can’t help but notice that you’re over there instead of over here.
[ He raises his eyebrows and his mouth turns up into a smile. This, he thinks, is much better than the blind ninja life. School and romantic flings and all that stuff that comes with just being normal. ]
Your friend thinks I'm an asshole. Can't imagine why.
[ the answer is because stephen is a dick. he can't blame foggy for thinking he's ill-intentioned - stephen is shallow enough to balk at the prospect of a relationship with someone who wasn't the picture of normativity. but there's something he likes about matt murdock, more than anyone else in his address book. gun to his head, he can't define it.
the great ass helps, though. as does that smile. and that thing he does with his tongue where suddenly stephen can see it.
he lets out a soft amused huff and makes his way over to the bed. he leans down over where matt is seated, touching a hand to his face and leaning in. ]
You're almost a lawyer. You should make a case on my behalf. [ defend my nonexistent honor to your friend, matt. it could be fun! ]
[ It's Matt's turn to puff out a laugh. He turns his cheek to Stephen's hand, leaning into the touch with a smile. Stephen Strange may be a Grade A Asshole, but hell if Matt isn't smitten over him.
College flings are allowed to make you a little stupid, right? ]
I'm flattered you think I'm good enough already to plead your case.
[ Matt tips his head enough to press a kiss to the heel of Stephen's palm. ]
Well, it wasn't exactly a reunion Matt would have imagined, but for them it seemed fitting. Under other circumstances, he could have probably laughed at the familiarity - Frank arrested, cuffed to a hospitalbed - but. That probably wouldn't have gone well.
Regardless, it had been short lived. Once Matt had left, intending to leave Karen to deal with Frank while he himself did some digging, shit hit the fan. Of course it did. After Frank's escape, Matt hadn't been able to keep up with the whirlwind that followed. Then, nothing. He knew to some degree that Frank probably wasn't dead, but the radio silence was unnerving. It was always unnerving, but Matt always moved on. He hadn't been expecting Frank to call. Or to call again, or that Frank would pick up when Matt called.
How it happened that Frank's here now, Matt's not going to question it. He's glad for it, glad to have back the only person that understands him. Maybe, he thinks, as Frank gets some much needed rest, maybe Frank needs to have that, too. It's not worth getting too much into. While Frank sleeps, Matt gathers up some clean clothes for him and some food. Something to make Frank feel a little more human and a little less Punisher.
Frank could really use some proper rest. He'd been doing fine for a while, trying to find some sense of normalcy, of peace, and nearly heading in that direction with confidence, but he should have known that there's no real peace for someone like him. Staying away from New York had been good for him yet he was inevitably pulled back, and some part of him also felt the guilt of leaving behind people hew knew cared about him. Despite all the shit and stress, they still want him safe and sound and happy.
Seeing Matt again for the first time after grieving his "death" was a shock to the system, but given the state he was in at the time, they didn't get a proper reunion. He'd known Matt was okay but actually seeing him again was different. Guilt settled in again despite all he had to do. He'd been so ready to give up, to give in...
When all is said and done and Russo is buried six feet under, Frank takes some time off to clear his mind and finally embrace who he's been all this time. If they need to be apart a little longer he knows Matt will understand, and if he doesn't then Frank deserves the rejection. A couple months on the road later and he's pulled right back to New York again, this time with a sense of calm and peace he hasn't felt in years.
Waking up in Matt's familiar bed, he doesn't wake with a start from nightmares or uncertainty. Instead, he smells coffee and breakfast, and when his arm reaches out across the bed he's disappointed to find it cold and empty. A turn of his head and he sees Matt getting some clothes from his closet, and Frank slowly sits up to rub at his eyes.
"I wasn't really counting. It seemed like a good sleep."
That is, Matt didn't hear any fitful turning or signs of restlessness, just a heavy, deep breathing. He gives Frank a vague, small smile, finishing gathering up clothes. At least he and Frank are similar enough in size that this can do for now.
"How do you feel?"
Setting the clothes on the edge of the bed, Matt sits beside them. He reaches out to press a hand to Frank's chest just to feel that he's there, smiling a little more.
"Best sleep I've had in months." If he's being completely honest. He sits back against the headboard and sighs out, feeling more relaxed than he feels he has the right to be. He wouldn't be here if Matt didn't want him to be though, and the fact that he's been so accepting is... more than Frank deserves. They both need a break from all the shit.
He returns the smile and rests his hand against Matt's, thumb rubbing along his skin. Yeah, he's here, real and breathing.
"Good, I think. It's weird to say. I haven't felt good in so long." Which is so dramatic but - "Relieved."
And he does, really. Matt went through his own bullshit to get to this point, too, so he understands. For him, realizing he had people there that cared about him had helped. He hopes that it helps Frank.
"I'm glad you came back," he says, after a moment. "You can stay as long as you want, but I understand if you want to hit the road again."
Frank shakes his head almost immediately, gripping Matt's hand a little stronger.
"No, I came back for a reason." His time on the road was good for himself but seeing Matt again in the hospital... that moment kept returning to his mind over and over again. They have so much to catch up on. "I want to be here."
Matt laughs a bit. He leans over to nudge their noses together, enjoying the moment. It's quiet and there's no urgency for anything. He thinks about apologizing for not helping Frank, but decides against it. They can talk about everything later, when they want to.
No need to ruin this.
"I made breakfast. No rush to get up." Matt's certainly in no rush himself to leave Frank's side now that he's there.
It's just another night in New York City. The endless drone of people filling the streets as they leave theatres to fill bars and restaurants, the rumble of traffic with the frequent sound of sirens and horns, and the vague scent of salt water that wafts through the air now and then as Matt moves past the docks, then heads into the city towards Midtown.
He keeps to the rooftops. The fire escapes and shadows of alleys help cover him when he can't quite make the jump (rare, considering how packed the buildings are). Tonight, there's no one he's tracking. There's always an alertness, ready in case he hears trouble, but if he's being honest ... Sometimes it's just freeing to run around like this and see the city in a way no one else will ever see it. It's just Matt and New York laid out below him.
Except that it's not just him.
Considering how New York seems to be teaming with heroes these days, Matt rarely runs into someone else up here. He slows his pace when it becomes clear it's no one he knows, nothing familiar coming to him as his boots hit the roof. He's cautious. Sort of. It could be a civilian, it could be another masked crusader, or it could be someone looking to cause trouble.
The Parker LuckTM has ensured that Peter has A Night roughly once a week, and A Bonafide Night every month or so. A Problem is usually once or twice a year and the idea that he might be in the third category right now is making his stomach sink a little in an uncomfortable way only made more uncomfortable by the fact that he's somehow managed to misremember the location of every single eatery he's used to stopping in at and when he'd finally found one of them, the man behind the cart had almost thrown his hotdog at him before they actually started talking.
That's why when he sees a familiar form a few buildings over, he'd started swinging his way over and he lands just as Matt asks a question that makes him stop in his tracks.
"When have I ever used the stairs, DD?" he asks, humor wavering just a little.
Behind the mask, Matt squints a little in confusion. His mouth turns down into a frown as he does his best to place the voice. Someone familiar with him, clearly. Someone implying he should know them. The only person Matt knows that might come close to hanging out on rooftops is Danny Rand and that's definitely not Danny's voice.
"That's a great question."
There's a tension now to his posture. His alerts are high as he tries to find the trick behind whatever is happening right now.
"No," he says and then, when the universe doesn't change and Matt doesn't relax and nothing fixes itself, a certain amount of whine slips in, "nooooo, no, no, no, I can't today, I just can't."
He turns to look at Matt then.
"Did you make any deals with any devils? Aliens? Is the Phoenix Force kicking around again- I know it likes-" but while Peter is jokey and ridiculous and wise-cracking, he's one of the heroes who knows best exactly why identities have to stay secret whatever Tony-pinata-full-of-cash-Stark might think so he swerves, "the strong, silent types."
Judging by the way Matt's mouth turns down, it's safe to assume he has no idea what the stranger's talking about. At least he doesn't detect any signs of deceit - no quickening in heart rate, no change in breathing pattern.
"I'm getting the feeling that something's going on and you know more about it than I do."
He considers the problem for a moment before he breathes out in a huff and looks around. This rooftop is a little low for his liking, definitely not the kind of level where there's plenty of cars and plenty of wind to cover things. That's why he tips his head off the building.
"Can we find a better rooftop? I'll go into it more when we've got a bit more white noise."
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@sorserer
He just didn't think it would take him all the way to Greenwich.
While the trip isn't a total waste of time, in the end, Matt's not exactly successful. Already exhausted from a long chase, his guy get the jump on him, and there's a good chance that he'd finish the job if it weren't for some distant sirens that scared him away. Good, Matt thinks, as he drags himself to sit against the wall of the alley. He can smell the blood seeping out of him.
Just a couple more minutes, he tells himself, then he'll pull himself up and drag his ass back to Hell's Kitchen and deal with this there. ]
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he also has to deal with jet lag not infrequently, from all the teleportation. that's why he's making his way back to the sanctum late at night with takeout. as he passes by the darkened alley he uses to cut across a city block he catches out of the corner of his eye a flicker of movement. for a moment he thinks it's just a cat—
it's someone collapsed against the brick, which isn't abnormal for new york, but stephen knows what an injured person looks like. and even though his medical license is due to expire any minute now he stops, squints to make out the darkened figure in the light. ]
You're far from home.
[ it's the loftiness afforded someone who isn't easily frightened, but for people who don't know what he does he mostly just sounds a bit too forward. ]
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And calm. ]
I thought I'd do some sight seeing.
[ Now that is funny.
In an attempt to keep up appearances, Matt wraps an arm around his stomach, as if somehow that might hold the blood in and give him some extra strength, and uses the wall to push himself up. Even in the dark, the way he staggers and sways is impossible to miss. ]
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Hey, easy.
[ there's professional gentleness in that voice, someone who wasn't trained to coddle but rather to instruct. he leans matt against the brick and guides his hands away from the wound, brushing his own fingertips over a tear in the more flexible strip of the man's armor. he pulls his hand back, unsurprised and dismayed to find it wet. he looks him over, jaw set, thinking. ]
I take it you don't do hospitals.
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[ Matt cracks jokes in an effort to pretend everything is okay. Like he isn't bleeding out and chatting so casually to someone who's holding him up.
His head tilts a bit as he tries to keep his mind focused on anything but the shock threatening to take over his body. ]
You know any good doctors around here?
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[ kind of as a weird nuance, as he's not sure he has the time or inclination to explain, especially since the flow of blood doesn't seem to want to stop anytime soon. his fingers in the dark fold in and then fan out. there's a funny bloom of warmth in matt's side, a trace of magic to slow down the free spill of blood in his side, but his ability to heal the wound altogether isn't instantaneous. ]
Come on. I'm right around the corner.
[ he isn't, technically: the sanctum is still a block and a half down bleecker. but he can reorient reality a little to make it so, and that's just as good. ]
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You're not gonna .... Take my picture and plaster it on social media, are you?
[ He makes it sound like a joke, but it's obvious that he's serious. It's the only thing that makes him hesitate before he follows. ]
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@sorserer // when you were young
So. University? That was daunting, even for Matt Murdock.
But he'd ended up with a better than good roommate, and he settled into his classes, and people liked him. Really liked him, actually. And Matt's not complaining.
He's especially not complaining about one Stephen Strange. Matt gets it. Stephen's kind of a jerk, very intelligent and ambitious but kind of a dick. He's got a reputation and Matt's good at hearing people talk, and Foggy's even said a thing or two, but Matt likes him. More or less. Clearly he enjoys Stephen enough to keep going back, and Stephen seems to have some fondness for him.
Maybe it's just because the sex is good and Matt's got enough of a impulsive streak that he doesn't really mind. ]
Did you change your laundry detergent?
[ It's asked with a laugh, as Matt stretches himself out on Stephen's bed, hands behind his head while he turns his nose into the pillow. ]
I like it.
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his latest conquest, who probably wouldn't stick around too long if stephen leaned too heavily on the word conquest: matt murdock, law student, dangerously pretty. blind, too, which meant stephen had to rely on his terrible personality rather than his good looks to finally needle him into a night on the town. and that night had led to another night, and another, and another.
he doesn't have any pretenses about how long it'll last - there's a softness to matt that stephen finds quaint, unexpected and golden. but he likes it anyway, likes him, is willing to ride this one out. if only to enjoy that smile a little while longer. plus the sex is, honestly, top-shelf.
tonight's a rare night off, though he has midterms soon. stephen's hanging up as he finishes a takeout order: chinese food, to arrive in an hour. ]
I did. One of those non-toxic, biodegradable, yadda yadda yadda ...
[ he leans against the side of a cabinet for a moment just to smirk across the room at matt. and even though matt can't see it there's a smirk in his voice: ]
I can't help but notice you've been staying over long enough to notice.
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[ Matt laughs and sits up, hair a little askew from the pillow. His head tilts a bit as he gazes in Stephen’s direction. ]
Anyway, I can’t help but notice that you’re over there instead of over here.
[ He raises his eyebrows and his mouth turns up into a smile. This, he thinks, is much better than the blind ninja life. School and romantic flings and all that stuff that comes with just being normal. ]
We can work up an appetite.
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[ the answer is because stephen is a dick. he can't blame foggy for thinking he's ill-intentioned - stephen is shallow enough to balk at the prospect of a relationship with someone who wasn't the picture of normativity. but there's something he likes about matt murdock, more than anyone else in his address book. gun to his head, he can't define it.
the great ass helps, though. as does that smile. and that thing he does with his tongue where suddenly stephen can see it.
he lets out a soft amused huff and makes his way over to the bed. he leans down over where matt is seated, touching a hand to his face and leaning in. ]
You're almost a lawyer. You should make a case on my behalf. [ defend my nonexistent honor to your friend, matt. it could be fun! ]
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College flings are allowed to make you a little stupid, right? ]
I'm flattered you think I'm good enough already to plead your case.
[ Matt tips his head enough to press a kiss to the heel of Stephen's palm. ]
@thegoodbad
Regardless, it had been short lived. Once Matt had left, intending to leave Karen to deal with Frank while he himself did some digging, shit hit the fan. Of course it did. After Frank's escape, Matt hadn't been able to keep up with the whirlwind that followed. Then, nothing. He knew to some degree that Frank probably wasn't dead, but the radio silence was unnerving. It was always unnerving, but Matt always moved on. He hadn't been expecting Frank to call. Or to call again, or that Frank would pick up when Matt called.
How it happened that Frank's here now, Matt's not going to question it. He's glad for it, glad to have back the only person that understands him. Maybe, he thinks, as Frank gets some much needed rest, maybe Frank needs to have that, too. It's not worth getting too much into. While Frank sleeps, Matt gathers up some clean clothes for him and some food. Something to make Frank feel a little more human and a little less Punisher.
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Seeing Matt again for the first time after grieving his "death" was a shock to the system, but given the state he was in at the time, they didn't get a proper reunion. He'd known Matt was okay but actually seeing him again was different. Guilt settled in again despite all he had to do. He'd been so ready to give up, to give in...
When all is said and done and Russo is buried six feet under, Frank takes some time off to clear his mind and finally embrace who he's been all this time. If they need to be apart a little longer he knows Matt will understand, and if he doesn't then Frank deserves the rejection. A couple months on the road later and he's pulled right back to New York again, this time with a sense of calm and peace he hasn't felt in years.
Waking up in Matt's familiar bed, he doesn't wake with a start from nightmares or uncertainty. Instead, he smells coffee and breakfast, and when his arm reaches out across the bed he's disappointed to find it cold and empty. A turn of his head and he sees Matt getting some clothes from his closet, and Frank slowly sits up to rub at his eyes.
"Shit, how long was I out?"
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That is, Matt didn't hear any fitful turning or signs of restlessness, just a heavy, deep breathing. He gives Frank a vague, small smile, finishing gathering up clothes. At least he and Frank are similar enough in size that this can do for now.
"How do you feel?"
Setting the clothes on the edge of the bed, Matt sits beside them. He reaches out to press a hand to Frank's chest just to feel that he's there, smiling a little more.
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He returns the smile and rests his hand against Matt's, thumb rubbing along his skin. Yeah, he's here, real and breathing.
"Good, I think. It's weird to say. I haven't felt good in so long." Which is so dramatic but - "Relieved."
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And he does, really. Matt went through his own bullshit to get to this point, too, so he understands. For him, realizing he had people there that cared about him had helped. He hopes that it helps Frank.
"I'm glad you came back," he says, after a moment. "You can stay as long as you want, but I understand if you want to hit the road again."
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"No, I came back for a reason." His time on the road was good for himself but seeing Matt again in the hospital... that moment kept returning to his mind over and over again. They have so much to catch up on. "I want to be here."
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Matt laughs a bit. He leans over to nudge their noses together, enjoying the moment. It's quiet and there's no urgency for anything. He thinks about apologizing for not helping Frank, but decides against it. They can talk about everything later, when they want to.
No need to ruin this.
"I made breakfast. No rush to get up." Matt's certainly in no rush himself to leave Frank's side now that he's there.
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@thwippantly
He keeps to the rooftops. The fire escapes and shadows of alleys help cover him when he can't quite make the jump (rare, considering how packed the buildings are). Tonight, there's no one he's tracking. There's always an alertness, ready in case he hears trouble, but if he's being honest ... Sometimes it's just freeing to run around like this and see the city in a way no one else will ever see it. It's just Matt and New York laid out below him.
Except that it's not just him.
Considering how New York seems to be teaming with heroes these days, Matt rarely runs into someone else up here. He slows his pace when it becomes clear it's no one he knows, nothing familiar coming to him as his boots hit the roof. He's cautious. Sort of. It could be a civilian, it could be another masked crusader, or it could be someone looking to cause trouble.
"Take a wrong turn on the stairs?"
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The Parker LuckTM has ensured that Peter has A Night roughly once a week, and A Bonafide Night every month or so. A Problem is usually once or twice a year and the idea that he might be in the third category right now is making his stomach sink a little in an uncomfortable way only made more uncomfortable by the fact that he's somehow managed to misremember the location of every single eatery he's used to stopping in at and when he'd finally found one of them, the man behind the cart had almost thrown his hotdog at him before they actually started talking.
That's why when he sees a familiar form a few buildings over, he'd started swinging his way over and he lands just as Matt asks a question that makes him stop in his tracks.
"When have I ever used the stairs, DD?" he asks, humor wavering just a little.
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"That's a great question."
There's a tension now to his posture. His alerts are high as he tries to find the trick behind whatever is happening right now.
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He turns to look at Matt then.
"Did you make any deals with any devils? Aliens? Is the Phoenix Force kicking around again- I know it likes-" but while Peter is jokey and ridiculous and wise-cracking, he's one of the heroes who knows best exactly why identities have to stay secret whatever Tony-pinata-full-of-cash-Stark might think so he swerves, "the strong, silent types."
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"I'm getting the feeling that something's going on and you know more about it than I do."
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He considers the problem for a moment before he breathes out in a huff and looks around. This rooftop is a little low for his liking, definitely not the kind of level where there's plenty of cars and plenty of wind to cover things. That's why he tips his head off the building.
"Can we find a better rooftop? I'll go into it more when we've got a bit more white noise."
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