A Really Good Lawyer [Spider-Man]

Chapter 3: Out of Place

Ten minutes. That's how long they avoid bringing up Peter Parker after he's left their office. Matt follows Peter's footsteps out the building and about halfway up the street before a snap from across the hall makes him flinch. Goddamn that chiropractor. The building had been perfect before they set up shop across the hall. No rats scurrying through the walls, no mold propagating under the old wood, and the worst smell had been when Karen tried to brew coffee for them. He still didn't know how she managed to burn it every time without fail. The coffee maker had a timer for fuck's sake.

The office had been a good find, all things considered. After the Blip, people had taken advantage of the new homeless population, snapping up real estate faster than Quicksilver could run. Foggy had disappeared alongside Matt (which Foggy had said proves there is definitely a God. After Midland Circle, neither of them thinks they could have survived being alone again.), so they had worked together to rebuild their rinky dink firm from where they left off. Thankfully, being gone from existence for five years hadn't completely alienated them from their clientele. They still have people coming in for help. People that remember them, as well as people who come across their firm from word of mouth.

People like Peter.

Foggy is the first to break the silence.

"So, we're gonna talk about that, right? I'm not going crazy?" he asks, running a hand through his hair as he paces the front room. He settles his palms on Karen's desk and leans back with a false calm. "We just had a kid come in asking for us to represent Spider-Man?"

"It would seem so," Matt says, following Foggy out of his office. He reaches out for his cane so he has something to do with his hands. They tighten around the grip, pulling at the scarred skin over his knuckles. Karen's busying herself with a pot of coffee, unfortunately, but her heartrate is up. She's twisting a strand of hair through her fingers, the fibers scratching softly against the tip of her manicured nails. Her breath hitches like she's going to speak more than once.

"And that's just, what, good with us?" Foggy's voice has dropped the professional tone it had when he'd spoke with Peter. It's urging, almost-concerned--like it is when he's setting up a killer cross-examination. "Kid walks in here, asks about cases he's way too young to know about, and just tells us he knows Spider-Man? Just like that?"

Matt's lip twists. "Well, Frank's trial was popular, Foggy. And he wasn't lying when he said he was fifteen when it happened."

"But there's no way you can tell me that-- that child was twenty-two," Karen cuts in as the coffee maker beeps. She pours herself a cup of burned coffee, stirring in a spoonful of sugar. Her spoon clinks against the ceramic. (Foggy says Karen's favourite mug has a penguin on it. He insists that its wrapping its flippers around the cup like it's keeping the drink warm through its hugs. Matt wonders if Karen's spoon is hitting the top of the penguin's head as she taps the spoon against the lip of the mug.)

Foggy gestures in Karen's direction, the air shifting around his arm in a flourish. "Kid was eighteen, at most."

"Told me he was Blipped. So if we consider that I'd guess he's probably... seventeen? Young." Matt pushes his fingers into the rubber grip of his cane. A soft-spoken woman is thanking the chiropractor (Dr. Basam, if he remembers correctly. His new archnemesis.) across the hall. At least there shouldn't be any more appointments scheduled today.

"So a minor. Even better," Foggy scoffs. "And sure, we can let him get away with knowing about Castle. Most of New York knew about Castle. But Jessica Jones? You said it yourself that you weren't even on record as her attorney. We're missing something. Did your sixth sense tell you anything was off about the guy?"