4122/A Stab in the Dark

A Stab in the Dark
Date of Scene:	24 March 2018
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Elektra drops in on Claire for some much needed medical attention after a pointed lesson goes nearly fatally wrong. Only to have Matt Murdock drop in on the two of them and get appointed Elektra's nursemaid for the next 7 days, much to her chagrin.
Cast of Characters:	Elektra, Claire Temple, Daredevil

---

Elektra has posed:
It was past midnight when the knock comes. Quiet knocks, several in a row, and then a pause.

Outside, the weather is clear. The moon is shining. Stars are out. Spring is beginning its flirtation with New York. All in all, a perfect evening.

After a pause, long enough that one might think whoever it was had gone away, the knocks come again. Four of them in quick succession.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire is parked on her living room couch, recently freed from the mess and stress of a long shift of vomiting toddlers and lacerated drunks, and her attention is rapt upon a particularly grisly rerun of Law and Order. Shortly before the police begin interviewing the suspect, she hears the first set of knocks. She frowns, and then she hears the second round.

Concerned, she peers through the peephole in the door.

The hell...?!

Taking a deep breath, she opens her door a few inches. "Can I help you... Elektra?" she asks, not trying to sound too formal. Relaxed. (She hopes.)

Elektra has posed:
Elektra's features are somewhat strained. That alone should be the first sign that something is amiss. The second sign would be the pale of the other woman's normally deep mediterannean features. She's holding a hand to her one side with a grimace. "I'd rather not discuss it in the hallway if you don't mind."

She'd considered it polite enough that she'd knocked, not just let herself in a window or something. And were it not for how she'd gotten injured, and the inevitable having to explain it to Matthew, she might have just gone to his place.. Then again, there was the fact that for once Elektra was more than a little concerned about the injury she'd taken. And it shouldn't take much to see that the dark stain on Elektra's pants is spreading down her thigh, and that her fingers, when caught in the light, are crimson.

Claire Temple has posed:
The nurse hisses through her teeth and opens the door wide. "Okay," she says, her voice becoming much more brisk. "I've got a blanket draped over my couch, so let's get you propped up first," she says as she holds out her arm to help the other woman step into the apartment and across the living room.

Once the front door is closed and locked, she uses the relative privacy to ask the question she always hates asking. "Just how did you get this?" she asks.

Elektra has posed:
Despite herself, Elektra is grateful when she's invited in and that door closes behind her. It's as though that barrier provides not only a modicum of safety, but allows Elektra to drop some of the facade.

"Would you believe it's a long story?" she asks, making her way to the couch. Now that she's inside, and not on guard, the woman moves with some discomfort and stiffness. "I got careless."

Well, less careless as jumped while making a pointed statement about her new rules. But in the end the two things were almost the same. She should have taken backup and she didn't. She got stabbed. End of story. Mostly.

Claire Temple has posed:
It's a reply Claire's heard some several times before, although the most common evader is Matthew Murdock. She narrows her eyes at the similarity as she helps Elektra lower herself to rest on the couch. "Not the first time I've heard that," she says, her voice becoming dry as she turns on a relatively high brightness end table lamp and peers at the visible ruptured tissue with a wince. "Want to try again?" she asks.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra half sits, half leans, such that her hip and back are not against the couch - it wouldn't be prudent for them to be given the injury. A stab in the area of her right kidney - a little down or at an angle, they might have made contact and all of this would be hypothetical. But they'd missed, and Elektra had lucked out.

"Let me guess," Elektra says dryly, and not without a note of pain in her voice, "Matthew." She nods to herself, having seen Claire's handiwork there. It was one of the reasons she'd come to the woman herself. That, and Matthew would ask questions she couldn't and wouldn't answer, and Elektra wouldn't go to the hospital for the same reasons, with the added bonus that a high profile woman such as Elektra Natchios being stabbed? That would be news. News Elektra couldn't afford. So Claire it was.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire sighs and shakes her head. "Of course," she allows. "He know you're knocking on my door?" She pauses while she's pulling on gloves. "He the reason you know which door to knock?" she asks, her tone wary. No, he hadn't been tailed a few days ago, and Claire trusted his ability to discern such things. If the person following could evade Matt Murdock, though, a growing pit of worry began to swallow her imagination.

As if on autopilot, she's pulled her go bag out of the small alcove past the living room wall, and the contents are being lined up on the coffee table. She scowls as she pulls the sterile wash and the sutures from the mesh pouch in the top of the bag. "I don't like the tension on that," she says. "Don't even try sitting." She sighs. "You're going to have to lay out for this. Take that," she tells Elektra as she points to a throw pillow, "and elevate the injury. Just make sure it stays even."

Elektra has posed:
"No," Elektra declares through gritted teeth as she puts the pillow underneath her right hip, tilting her body and the injured area up for Claire to attend to. "Matthew has no idea I'm here. In fact, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell him I dropped on by."

Peas. In. A. Pod. The two of them.

Of course she knew where Claire lived because she had employed her minions to find out. No, they hadn't followed Matt - even though Elektra did have tails on him - but they'd found Claire all the same.

"I wasn't sure where else to go," the woman admits. "It's not like I could show up at a hospital." Not without embarassing questions.

Claire Temple has posed:
"Yeah, I get that a lot," Claire replies, her voice grim as she pulls up the back of Elektra's shirt to get a better look at the damage. "Jesus," she says as she looks at the wound, carefully probing to get an idea of depth. A slight squeeze to the tissue gives her an answer, and she lets out the breath she was holding.

"Good news and bad news," she says as she shakes the wash bottle before cracking the seal. "Good news, I guess, is the kidney doesn't look like it got hit. I can't be certain without imaging, but your odds look good right now," she says. "Hang on, this'll burn... Bad news, there's quite a bit of muscle tear in there. This isn't going to be better in a couple days." She squeezes the bottle over the wound.

Elektra has posed:
Elektra curses softly underneath her breath. "I don't have days."

Well, she did and she didn't. Corporate Elektra would be fine. Hell, corporate Elektra could take the time off. Work from home. Only show up when something needed signing. Already be in the office waiting and not have to show weakness by moving around stiffly or with undue care. The Fist, Elektra, however, was another matter.

"Do your best, and just tell me when." When it was going to hurt like hell, that is. The probing she seems to bear without as much wincing as one might expect of a wound like the one she's taken. "I take it Matthew is a frequent flyer of your ministrations?"

Claire Temple has posed:
The question earns a snort as Claire clicks a pair of forceps over a suturing needle. "That's a really poetic way of putting it," she says as she prepares to stitch the muscle together. She steels herself with the needle in the air just over the site, and then she gives fair warning. "This won't be the worst of it, but you're not going to like it. May want to squeeze the armrest, or something," she mutters before she puts the needle tip into the muscle.

"Before Matt started showing up here, this bag was for simple house calls. Twisted ankles. Kids with the flu. Grandma fell and cut her head. That kind of thing..." she trails off, concentrating on trying not to tug the filament so much it slices out of place. "Now? Hell."

Elektra has posed:
"Matthew's a damned fool half of the time," Elektra mutters, taking Claire's advice and squeezing her hands down on the couch's armrest. "He should be more careful."

She says that like she's not tried to entice him into rather more dangerous endeavours in the past. Though none of that means she doesn't still think he's reckless. More reckless than she is at the very least. Then again, he wasn't what she was.

"He's lucky to have a friend like you. How long have you known him?"

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire bites back a curse when she wobbles the needle slightly as she's finishing the row of stitches in Elektra's muscle. She rearranges her grip to make that last stitch without a side trip into the skin -- only just, damn it, fucking stab wounds -- and ties off the muscle sutures, then begins loading a new needle. "A little over a year," she finally answers. "Seems like longer, just because surgery sucks." A beat. "And he's reckless, so it's a lot of surgery."

"Not fun again," she says as she reapplies the wash. "And this? I'm sorry, but I don't get to stock anesthetic," she tells Elektra, her voice apologetic. She starts placing the first stitch into the skin.

Elektra has posed:
"So, less time than I've known him," Elektra grits through teeth held tightly together as she's stitched. "No apologies. I've had worse." Which is a sad statement on reality if the woman is telling the truth.

"He's going to get himself killed," she says quietly. Almost reufully, and totally at odds with the arguments she's had with him about his behaviour. Or, perhaps, in keeping. There's a certain amount of freedom you get when you don't have to keep someone alive when you're taking them down. Fights don't tend to last nearly as long. Dead is a very persuassive argument.

Claire Temple has posed:
"Asshole damn well better not," Claire growls as she places another stitch. "Not like he's never been told about it. Fucking martyr," she says, giving the filament a perhaps too emphatic tug. She tears open a gauze square and clears some blood, then continues suturing.

Claire is another two stitches down the line -- stabs are blessedly narrow, she thinks to herself, taking a second to throw her eyes ceilingward -- when she comes back to Elektra's statement. "Worse?" she asks slowly. "What exactly are you getting yourself into that you've had worse?"

Elektra has posed:
"I'd kill himself, if he tries," Elektra says, teeth still gritted, even though there's a note of dry amusement in her voice now.

"That's a lot of stitches," she says needlessly. She's counted quite a number now, only to encounter Claire's question. "Well, I could say, but I'd have to kill you if you knew."

It's not an answer, and she knows it.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire shakes her head. "See, you idiot vigilante types keep going out and getting yourselves cut and stabbed up in all kinds of places, and you don't ever think maybe anatomy matters for how many stitches you're going to get afterward," Claire grouses as she drops in the final stitches. She snorts. "Always in a hurry to go get yourselves sliced up again."

Claire's quiet for some moments after that, sticking a patch over the sutures she's just finished, while she mulls Elektra's words. "I don't suppose you could do such a thing before I have to go work another flu season," she says at length. Her eyes narrow, but she doesn't say anything else.

Elektra has posed:
From her supine state, Elektra arches a brow. "Which, kill you, or him?"

There's a soft sound of amusement from the woman. "I'm hardly a vigilante. At least not in the strictest of senses. I leave that to Matthew." Again she doesn't expand upon the matter, waiting until the patch is over the sutures before she makes any move to sit up. "Days, you said? How many? And I suppose I'll need to return to have those stitches out?"

She's not imagining Claire stocks up on the disolving kind, but she might be wrong. She has known Matt for over a year now. They might be a staple in her bag.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire doesn't return Elektra's remark, though she does keep it with a frown. She cocks her head in a silent acknowledgement and starts pulling off her gloves. "Days, plural. As many as it takes for that line I just threaded to dissolve," she says. It's a speech she's learned by heart. "At least seven, and maybe ten." She sighs. "And under no circumstances should you try cutting them out yourself or getting someone else to try." She pulls Elektra's shirt back over the patch and makes a small 'hmph' noise in her throat. "You wouldn't be the first to try."

Elektra has posed:
Elektra gives Claire a stern little look. "I don't have that many days to be laid up. You have no clue how difficult that is. So I won't lie and pretend I can follow that advice." Though she does allow, "I won't try to remove them myself, though."

For all that she is, Elektra isn't stupid. She's survived worse simply because she has known when to listen. But the number of days Claire is speaking of is more than one hand and that is not something she thinks is doable. Though she does have to ask with amusement, "Matthew? I take that little speech is memorized because of him?"

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire's voice is dry. "No, not just Matt," she says. "Everyone. I was stitching people before I started patching Matt," she says. "Nobody is ever willing to agree to how long something like this is supposed to take. Ever." She rattles the sharps container to settle its contents out of the opening at the top before she seals it. "People need to go find hobbies, binge watch streaming TV series or something," she continues. "My policy is that if I have to re-do the stitches because someone got busy and ripped them out, I'm allowed to make them miserable while I do it, and possibly for some time thereafter." She tries for deadpan. She really does.

"You're all done," she says with a final shrug. "I don't need to see you for stitches on that again unless you tear it back open, in which case..." She shrugs again. Divine Right of Nurses' Fury rears its ugly head.

Elektra has posed:
There's a long, low laugh from Elektra. "In which case it's my own damned fault and live with it?" The laugh lowers into a chuckle. "I know you better than that. You'd stitch me up again. But you might not be so gentle about it. No worries nurse Temple, I have no intention of tearing them open again on purpose."

There's that caveat: On Purpose.

Of course with the life Elektra leads, there are a lot of things that happen because she can't control circumstance. Like how she got this wound in the first place.

Claire Temple has posed:
"Nobody," Claire says airily as she collects items to go to the trash bin versus cleanup versus the go bag, "ever cops to ripping out sutures on purpose. I've met only one patient who claimed any such thing, and he only did it once, for all the time that I've known him." She gives a mild scowl. "And no, not Matt."

Claire can't hope to understand the ins and outs of what people like Elektra and Matt do on a regular basis, and how, much less all the details of why. For her part, she wishes everything could pass without blood or death, but life doesn't always listen to her whims. "You're going to want to sit back up very carefully," she suggests as she shuts off her makeshift OR lamp. "It shouldn't pull, but those muscles get a lot of pull if you try turning. And again, no anesthesia," she says with a shrug.

Elektra has posed:
Careful is something Elektra excels at. At least she's able to sit up with surprising grace and fluidity given her injury. All without pulling at or tearing her wound. She does, however, grimace once she's sitting up. "That's going to sting for awhile." Followed by a shrug. "So much for my night job."

Which only causes her to chuckle wryly.

"I'd have Matthew pick up the slack, but then he'd wonder why. Though I have to say you're rather stingy with the questions. I expected more. Especially as I was a captive audience."

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire gives Elektra a look, not too different from the one Elektra gave her a few moments ago over post-suture downtime, and puts the go bag back into its usual home. "Okay," she finally says, sitting on a nearby chair instead of back on the coffee table. "Let me ask you this. Out of all the things you'd expect me to ask you, just how many would have an answer that included having to kill me if you told me the answer?" She holds her palms up in an open question.

Elektra has posed:
"It could have been a joke," Elektra says without any remorse. "Though there are always things better unknown, don't you think?"

Claire is given an appraising look.

"Matthew doesn't kill people. I do. I don't suppose that's the answer you were expecting, but since we're being honest, I'll allow you that. I'm not about to make apologies for what I do. I could, but I won't. I don't happen to believe that Matthew's brand of justice is any more effective than mine. I believe there are those who don't deserve to walk away."

Claire Temple has posed:
The open hands now rest palms-down on Claire's knees. "Seems like everyone who wants to make that call is really, really sure that they're the ones best qualified to make it," she says after a few moments' thought. "So, what... If two of you meet, either you both walk away if you decide the same people need to go, or one of you dies if you've got a difference of opinion?" She cocks her head. "Except instead of opinions, it's quick strikes."

Elektra has posed:
"I didn't say I was the best person qualified to make that decision. Only that I was comfortable making it."

It's a fine line of distinction, but one that Elektra makes.

"Truthfully? The last time that happened, I killed the man. He would have hunted Matthew down and done the same to him. My choices were Matthew or that man. I chose with my heart. It was perhaps a cold thing, but had I not, he would have set others after Matthew. None of them would have stopped. It's the kind of people they are. I don't have any regrets that there's one less asshole in the world and Matthew continues to do the good he does."

Her words and features are bland.

"I try, but I won't ever be what he wants. I wish I could be. We'd both be happier."

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire is quiet at this, and she studies the floor for a time while she turns over Elektra's words versus what she has already heard in her conversation with Matt. Elektra's refrain isn't anything she hasn't heard before, and it's really only the flip side of what she's heard from Matt -- Saint Matthew, and if there's a flip side to a saint, well. She grimaces.

"You do realize," she says after the considering silence, "that whatever you're doing, however many assholes you take out of the world... You do realize that eventually you live long enough to become the asshole, right? Nothing just stops. You know that. Matt knows that. You both have to know that by now."

She takes a deep breath, then exhales slowly and looks around the room, her focus moving between different spots on the wall as she gathers her words. "What got you to where you had to do any of this to begin with? What was the first choice?"

Elektra has posed:
"I've thought of that, yes," Elektra admits. "I expect that some I may be the monster in the mirror. But until then the only rules I can live by are my own. I've few regrets."

She doesn't say that any of them are tied to killings.

"Why do I kill, you mean?" There's a richness of amusement from Elektra. "It was that, or die. I know, you didn't expect that. But ultimately that's what it came down to." Well, that and the fact that she'd been raised to fight some war she really wasn't entirely certain of the details about, knowing only that she was a 'key' to it, and had been raised as such by Stick. Raised to emotionaless, ruthless killing in the name of winning a war that would otherwise destroy them all.

Or so she'd been told.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire looks at Elektra askance. "It came down to?" she asks. "This starts to sound like you were walking along and someone jumped out of an alleyway and told you your life depended on killing someone. Nobody seriously did that, did they?" The confusion is plain on her face. "What the hell kind of 'it' comes down to that?"

"And if it's so plain, this whole kill-or-be-killed thing... how would you end up spending your time with someone who won't kill at all?" Claire presses on. Well, Elektra did press for her to ask questions, after all... "Isn't there some kind of oil and water deal about that?"

Elektra has posed:
Elektra sighs unhappily.

"My father died when I was young, Claire. I didn't exactly have an orthodox childhood. As for Matthew, I think we've realized love isn't enough. I saw things in him that made me believe maybe it was possible. I come close."

Claire is given a weak smile

"I fail. As for plain, it's never so simple as plain. Only there are things you really don't wish to know about me. Though I suppose you imagine you do."

Daredevil has posed:
It had been a good night.

Matt had tracked a pair of Gotham Russians right to the door of Moses "The Horse" Rider, the top dog in the Hell's Kitchen's heroin trade. Well, former top dog now, courtesy of the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. The meeting had cost Rider more than his spot at the top, when Matt had finished with him the man had two broken legs, a broken arm and by his best guess, a couple of cracked ribs too. The end result was the end of Rider's drug ring, and the name of the bagman that collected the money Rider had kicked up to the man above him.

The part of Matt that thrilled at the fighting, the hunt, drove him to seek out the bagman now, get the next name out of him and move on up the chain towards someone who could name the people at the top. The other part, reminded him of how as they closed up for the night Foggy implored him not to miss closing arguments in the Diaz case tomorrow. How, their client needed them. He still had a ton of prep to do.

Growling with frustration, he punches the cupola of Holy Cross Church, his perch for the evening. He was going to go home and prep, he decided, but the wilder part, his 'devil' didn't like it. Matt lets out a breath, then glancing up at the cross on the top of the cupola, he murmurs a bashful "Sorry," to the All-Mighty, then swings away.

It was then he smelled her, faint, in the chill wind of the evening. When he lands he puts a name to that scent. "Elektra," it's almost a curse.

He's about to move on when the scent of blood reaches him, her blood, and he's off again at a run, leaping, tumbling and swinging between buildings with the scent growing in strength. It leads him to a familiar window on a familiar landing of a familiar a fire escape.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, knocking on the window.

He'd been right earlier, it /had/ been a good night.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire, as it happens, can imagine quite a bit, given the opportunity. Still, Elektra does create a lot more questions than --

There's a knock on the window.

Oh, boy. *That* window.

Claire gives Elektra a hard stare and gets up to pull the latch above the frame and throws open the window. "Matt! What -- will you just --" she stutters as she stands aside to admit the vigilante.

Elektra has posed:
At the knock, Elektra tenses - a big mistake. The tensing pulling at the newly places stitches. She's more than a little tender still, and really without any way to escape.

There's a softly hissed exhale from Elektra as she resigns herself to Matt discovering her, not only here, but injured.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt gives Claire a tight smile, "Hey Claire, she's here isn't she," he says it's not a question. Indeed once the window opened she might as well be standing right in front of him. He slips in once Claire gets out of the way and closes the window be hind him. "Thank you," he says to Claire before his attention turns to Elektra. He cocks his head, senses taking her in, "I'd ask what the hell were you doing here, but that back wound tells the story," he says. He glances to Claire knowing he's likely to get the most honest answer from her. "Is she okay?"

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire crosses her arms and nods at Matt's question. "For now, she's fine," she says. "She'll stay that way if she rests," she goes on to note with a little bit of an edge. "Nothing too serious, thankfully. Stab missed the kidney but tore up some muscles. Had to do a two-layer patch-up." She supposes that giving a patient's case information in bulk to a friend isn't exactly the most professional thing she could be doing, but then, neither is running a makeshift OR out of her living room. Besides, it's not as though Matt couldn't tell on his own later.

Or so she guesses.

Claire leans against the wall near the window, ready to let the two discuss however they may. She frowns.

Elektra has posed:
"I don't suppose it's occured to either of you that I'm sitting right here, has it? And that perhaps I didn't wish that information released?"

Elektra's tones are dry, and laced with a finely controlled edge of pain.

Claire gets something of a 'traitor' look from the woman, first for letting Matt in, then for telling him about her injuries, and lastly for stepping back, letting Matt at her.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt doesn't seem to mind the breach of ethics, he nods, "Thanks," he says before looking to Elektra, "I know, but if I asked you I'd get, I'm fine Matthew," he says capturing the breezy tone if not her drawl. His head jerks Claire's way, "This way is a bit more detailed."

Though for all that he does look concerned by the tension in his jaw and how he gingerly walks towards Elektra as his sense drink in her injuries. "Moot point to ask what happened?" he asks the ladies as he does.

Elektra has posed:
"Did you ever stop to think, Matthew," - and there's that breezy tone, if coloured dry enough that desserts seem sheltering spaces in comparison - "That maybe the reason I'd say that is because it's none of your damned business?"

She goes to get up off the couch, wincing as she realizes she's moved too quickly, and stop, holding her upright, but still sitting position, gesturing instead to Claire. "Oh, please. Do go one Tell him. After all, it's not lik you bothered asking my permission to drop my medical history - nice reach of ethics there, by the way. In fact, why don't the two of you pretend I'm not here. It should make this conversation go much more quickly, if not smoothly."

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire takes a deep breath and looks from Elektra to Matt and back. "She's kind of new to this whole vigilante-med thing," she says under her breath.

"I've already told him what I have clear from you. I'm pretty sure you don't want me passing along the remark you made about how this came to be," she tells Elektra in a pointed voice.

Daredevil has posed:
"Elektra," he says, "You're in Hell's Kitchen, bleeding on my friend's sofa, I think you made it my business," his tone is dry, but at least he didn't used her name instead of "sweetheart' like he did when he really wanted to grind her gears.

"Noticed," he says to Claire, but doesn't remark on the vigilante part.

The non-answer earns a frown, "Okay, and this isn't a dig at your skills, but, you get followed?" he says, there is a faint hint of anticipation there. Like he was hoping it might be yes, wanting that fight, either that or he really didn't want to go home to prep closing statements.

Elektra has posed:
There's a reluctantly muttered, "I didn't think I'd been followed, but you found me."

Elektra's tones remain that dryness, though now they're resigned, as she moves back on the couch, her current position not tenable for long - pulling the muscles along her back and tugging at the inner stitches. "I didn't leave anyone standing."

"And I don't recall saying you could divulge my medical history with him." Claire gets her turn in the headlights of Elektra's ascerbic attention.

What she doesn't do is explain how she got the injury. Not yet at least.

Claire Temple has posed:
"Elektra, if I were that worried about propriety, you'd be in the ER right now, and a lot more people than Matt would know about it," Claire says with a sigh. "Most of the time, anyone I need to patch has someone else who needs to know they've been patched. And even if you two are on the outs? Go ahead and explain how I should hide your injury from Matt Bloodhound Murdock, of all people. Please. You're even still on my damn couch," she says, voice rising.

"Which, by the way, you can't exactly spend the night here in my living room," she says. "I'm running a makeshift ER and OR, but it's no ICU."

Daredevil has posed:
"Unless there's another me out there-" he pauses nostrils flaring. He didn't smell beer and cigars, so odds were good she hadn't been fighting Patch. Still he asks, "Wasn't a short guy, gruff, blades coming out of the back of his hands?" he says describing Wolverine. "If not, then we're probably good. Besides, I only caught your scent because it's your scent, would know it anywhere," he says, which was sweet, or creepy, either way it's delivered matter of factly.

At Claire's remarks, Matt breathes a sigh, "She can stay at my place," he says.

Elektra has posed:
"No." Elektra's denial is succint. "No short man with blades coming out of his hands. If you must know, I needed to make a point with someone that was loud enough that I didnt need to make the same point over and over again. I believe the message was received."

Claire gets a narrowing down of gaze, Elektra connecting all the dotted lines in what the Night Nurse ahs said.

"No, you certainly don't hold to propriety. There's a reason I'm here. But if you think --"

Matt beats her to the punchline. "I can?"

It's not so much a question of gratefullness as sardonic. "How generous." Again, with no attempts to veil her sarcasm.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire rolls her eyes and throws up her hands. "Make a point, she says," the nurse pronounces heavenward, then comes back down to glare at Elektra's crack about propriety. She stops short at the response to Matt's offer. "Geez, you two," she says, shaking her head, frustration plain in her voice. "Get a room!"

Daredevil has posed:
Matt nods at her denial. "Then yeah, we're good," he says of her being followed. The other is met with a nod, if a reluctant one.

"Charity is a virtue," Matt says in reply to Elektra's reply.

The to Claire. "It's okay to move her?"

Elektra has posed:
Elektra exhales slowly, considering rising from the couch again, though uncertain if the conversation is over, she stays put for the moment.

"Yes," she tells Claire without qualms or any particular emotional inflection. "A point. Some associates of mine felt it unnecessary to respect certain boundaries. I merely made it clear what happens if anyone tries to overstep those boundaries again. As for rooms..."

Here Matt gets her attention.

"Hardly charity. And I don't need yours. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire gives Elektra a long, appraising look before answering Matt. "She's perfectly capable of taking care of herself over the course of seven to ten days, during which she doesn't strain those stitches. Moving... just watch not to pull anything," she says with a shrug.

"Whether or not she respects those seven to ten days, well, you'll know better than me on that point," the nurse says, her voice dry.

Daredevil has posed:
Matt sighs, deciding not to hear more details of Elektra's work right now. Things were fraught enough. He didn't need to add that to the fire.

It's a good thing the mask covers most of his face or there'd be more to read of just how long Elektra needed to be off her feet. Still there's a little, "Huh," at that, which spoke of him having not made up his mind on how he felt about it.

Still hearing the slow exhale, he comes over to Elektra offering his arm in assistance, and also as a peace offering. "Charity was the wrong word, but here, just tonight at least, we can work out the rest in the morning. Okay?"

Elektra has posed:
There's no winning this one, and a distinct possibility that if she continues to speak up that Claire will simply add days on in relatiation. Elektra merely reaches up and pinches the bridge of her nose.

"So, what you're saying is that we're all... agreeing... that for the next 7 days" - Elektra picks the lowest end of that spectrum - "Matthew is my nursemaid."

She looks up and between the two of them.

"Have I understood that correctly?"

Claire Temple has posed:
"You know, I think that'll be perfect," Claire says, lifting her voice to something brighter than it's been for the past several minutes. "You heal, then you go do your thing, hopefully without setting off a second exes' reunion party in my living room. Sound fair?"

Daredevil has posed:
Matt lets out a breath as he considers the time, then he tilts his head towards Elektra, "Better than nine," he offers with a bit of a smile.

Following it up with, "I can work with it, but your call."

Elektra has posed:
"I seriously doubt a week of being overseen like a criminal and coddled is necessary."

As though Matt were going to coddle her.

"I don't suppose we can lower the number of days?" And now she really does get up off the couch as things seem to be winding down into 'would you please take your girlfriend home' territory. Though elektra can't help a softly amused chuckle for Claire. "No worries. There's only Matthew."

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire frowns. "Do you have a healing factor I don't know about?" she asks Elektra. "And don't give me any of that 'I meditate, everything will heal faster' bullshit. If your body heals at the same pace as the rest of the healthy people of the population heal their wounds, you should plan on cuing up a week of Netflix to binge watch."

"And if it heals faster, then your walking ultrasound ex will be able to tell from fifty yards, and he'll know to turn you loose." Claire cants a look toward Matt. "You aren't keeping her cooped up past that, are you?"

Elektra has posed:
Even before Matt can answer, Elektra throws out a firm, "No. No he is not" with regards to the length of her stay with him.

The mention of some sort of healing factor merely gets a wry twist of lips from the woman. "Hardly. Though I've not had the luxury of lying abed in the past. I have no intentions of being an invalid for so much as a week. However, I grant you that some downtime would be beneficial."

Because, honestly, if she doesn't heal some before a new encounter with rebellious Hand members, she might be the one not walking away from the discussion. Though a week sounds painfully boring, and Stick certainly wouldn't have given her so long before demanding she stop snivelling and acting like an invalid.

Then there's the whole matter of being at the mercy of Matthew's judgement..

Daredevil has posed:
Matt turns his head Claire's way. "It's not bullshit," he says, okay he can't believe he's saying this, his eyes roll behind the red lenses of his suit. "It's probably chi?" he says flinching, just knowing somewhere Danny was smugly pleased with himself.

Waving a hand in front of his eyes, he says, "And, Netflix, doesn't really do it for me."

"She's right, no more than a week, I don't think we can stand each other that long," he says. "At least, not just in the apartment." They both were adrenaline junkies in their way. "So, yeah, keeping her there beyond that, probably a bad idea." Yeah, he's thinking of the Hand as well.

"Anyhow, we'll get out of your hair now Claire, but thanks," then to Elektra, he says, "C'mon I've got a bullshit meditation to teach you."