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Matt worried about what Sveta got herself into more than he likely should have. He had probably never met anyone as capable as her, and he likely never would again, but that didn't stop him from wondering what might happen if she spread herself farther than she was meant to be spread. Surely she wouldn't be able to fend off every danger and thing that came her way forever, and Matt didn't want to be there to see that if it happened. It reminded him of his early days in the military, thinking that he would be able to exist forever in a state of feeling infinitely powerful. Part of him missed those days, but another part of him was glad they were gone. A person couldn't live an actual life while being dangled in front of danger with a regular consistency, and it was hard to find any sense of normalcy when your time revolved around trying not to die and wondering when you might have to take a life.

He did, however, come out of his personal slump with a smirk when she called him "sir". It was truly too bad that he was still at work.

Haven as a concept was fairly confusing to him, and he didn't want to take advantage of Sveta's organization, especially since he wasn't even part of their target demographic of mutants. Still, it sounded like they might have enough pull to make something happen, and that was really all that Matt could hope for at that point.

"I mean, if you think that you guys have the resources for it, then I won't say no..." he trailed off, eyeing the door that had just opened once again.

Apparently the job wasn't quite finished.

Sveta was someone who intimately understood the feeling of running from one's demons, both literal and metaphorical, and that was something that Matt really appreciated about her. Matt often felt as if there was a level of separation between himself and most people that he would never have a hope of tearing down, but the same couldn't be said when he was around Sveta. She understood. Better than he could have asked for.

She added to his list with things more outlandish than he had listed to begin with, which made him smirk. It was easy to forget that when she was deep in the bowels of the mutant underworld, she saw crazier shit than he could even dream of.

It was nice to be candid, though - to feel as though he didn't have to put on some sort of front or to hide what was actually happening. What did he do to deserve having her walk into his life on two separate occasions? He'd likely have to chalk it up to some damn good karma after all the bullshit he'd been dealt before.

"May I get a drink in the meantime?..."

"'Course. On the house. What do you feel like?"

"So, how are you thinking about handling this? Paying them is probably the most peaceful solution, but you'll end up paying both sides eventually either way. Thinking about going to the cops?"

Matt ran his hands over his face with a heavy sigh. What was his plan? He didn't own the bar, so it technically wasn't on him, but he'd talked to the manager, and it really wasn't as if anyone had any sort of clue as to where to go next with everything going down. "Fuck.... I don't know. Cops are a non-option since we're pretty sure they've been paying them off for years, and there isn't the money to pay off even the one side, not to mention both." Peace was the ideal outcome, but it wasn't likely, and Matt had never been a pacifist anyhow. "Don't suppose you have a handbook for how to deal with gang territory lines lying around, do you?"

Matt hated the fact that he was now bringing Sveta into the drama at the bar, but he knew that bottling it up and hiding it from her wouldn't end well. Plus, he would have expected that she would share something like that with him so he could help in any way that he was able to, and lord knew that Sveta had more than a few resources at her fingertips.

"Protection money? Who sent them?"

"One of the local gangs. Seems like the bar is pretty much on the line between two territories, and, well, they want us to pay them each month so we don't have to be involved with anything that goes down." Otherwise... well, who knew what would happen when something ramped up. "Apparently they've been coming around for a few weeks now, but it's always just been one guy sitting in the corner. Until now, that is."

This time it was different. Apparently they were getting tired of the bar's non-answers and wanted to speed the process along a little.

"I'm not sure why I can't seem to avoid this shit. Seems to be my lot in life." Matt cleared his throat and grabbed a menu from one of the displays next to Sveta and set it down in front of her. "But it'll get dealt with, and you'll need to get back to work before long. I wouldn't want, uh, Dawson thinking that I'm keeping you from your job or something."

For a brief second, Matt wondered whether Sveta wouldn't notice that something was off with him and breeze past the topic. That would be the best way to deal with the issue, in his opinion. Wasn't that how he got past everything in his life, anyway? Push it down until he could forget about it all for a little while and pretend that it wasn't an issue.

Unfortunately, he knew deep down that he wouldn't be able to ignore this problem for long. Especially since the cook, Corey, had probably hadn't disappeared after seeing the men because he needed a bathroom break. It had been far from a pleasant conversation.

Sveta put one gloved hand on his, and he stopped his pacing and stood very still where he was. There was no need for the protection from skin-to-skin contact between the two of them, since Matt's abilities cancelled out Sveta's, but it was another reminder that her whole life was built around taking precautions. Perhaps he could stand to take a page out of her book.

"Hey. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course," he said, unconvincingly, as he turned around, slid his hand out from under hers, and busied himself by organizing two mixed up bottles. "Why? Is everything okay with you?"

It was nice to have dropped the pretence around one another... not that they had exactly started with much at all. Their first meeting had involved a lot of drinking and going into the darkest parts of themselves, and Matt could safely say that Sveta knew more about him than some of his family members.

Still, that morning, he got the idea that Sveta didn't feel like she needed to pretend or put on any sort of mask. There was nothing between them - almost literally.

"Are you one of those barista types that hand-makes his own coffee?"

"What, don't tell me that you're gonna shoot down a french press?" he scoffed with a smirk. "I'm a bartender. I make my living by mixing good drinks, and I'm sure as hell not going to draw the line at good coffee." Besides, a french press was the best way to make coffee for one person at a time, and that was usually his situation. There was no use in brewing a whole pot to let half of it go to waste.

They had successfully wasted the morning in the best way, which meant that there was still the rest of the day left to figure out. Matt wouldn't have minded if Sveta had said that she wanted to leave, since he knew she had a life to get back to, but he had to admit that it was nice to be there like that. There was a beautiful stranger wrapped in his bedsheets standing in his kitchen, and he wouldn't complain if nothing interrupted that.

"I'm supposed to work tonight, but that's not until much later, and besides... I've heard there's a flu going around or something," he said with a wink. "Now, how do you like your pancakes?"

The one he was working on was just about done, so he slid it onto a plate next to the stove before getting to work on the next one.

The first pancake was sufficiently browned on both sides, which meant that it was good enough to hand over to Moby. Of course, he would have eaten it no matter how it turned out, but Matt liked to think the dog had a few standards, at least. He flipped it off the edge of the pan and grabbed it gingerly with two fingers before handing it unceremoniously to the dog, who wolfed it down in a matter of seconds. Matt REALLY needed to buy dog food.

There were two people in the apartment with odd breakfast routines, it seemed. He knew in his head that Sveta lived a hard life, but he didn’t always connect the two dots very well. He blinked for a moment at her mention of “painkillers and vodka” (he was, of course, slightly turned on by her pronunciation of “vodka”, but that was besides the point), but he brushed it off. He didn’t know what it was like to live with her mutation, and he also knew he had no place to judge any of her choices. Plus, there was little she could say at that point that would deter him any.

“Sorry, I’m all out of vodka, but the painkillers are in the cabinet beside the microwave, and the orange juice is in the fridge. I would offer to grab it, but I’m going to be busy flipping pancakes,” he said with a sly grin as he poured more batter into the pan, careful that it formed a neat circle.

One thing he had missed especially in prison was good coffee. They had coffee in there, sure, but it was designed to worsen your experience more than anything else, really. It smelled like coffee. It looked like coffee. It tasted like the underside of a shoe. Another dead end in threat trap of the American justice system. As soon as he was out, Matt had stocked up on his favourite brands and made cup after cup of the stuff until his mouth burned and it no longer tasted like anything anymore.

“Always coffee for me. We can’t all make our own caffeine, unfortunately. Some of us have dependencies instead.”

The pancake had begun to bubble along the edges, so he picked up the pan in one hand and nudged it so the pancake would slide up the edge and flip to the uncooked side. He did his best to catch it, and did so with middling success. It landed in the centre of the pan and slid just a little so the face would be lopsided. Still cool, in his opinion.

Acting like it was no big deal as he set the pan back down on the burner, Matt turned back to Sveta. “So what does your day look like now?”

Moby liked to get in the way of things when he wasn't exactly invited to the conversation. Matt let out a small chuckle as he pushed the dog's nose away with an easy hand. "Sorry, Moby. You might have to hang out along tonight," he said gently as he used the moment of movement to maneuver the two of them off the couch and in the direction of the bed.

---

The morning came slowly and quietly, with little light streaming in on a foggy November day. Matt blinked awake, tangled in sheets and with skin pressed against skin. For a second, he had to ground himself; to remind himself of what happened before he'd fallen asleep. It was nothing that he'd expected, but it was the best thing to wake up to.

What light that did come through lit the room in a gentle blue hue, outlining the shapes that covered the bed. He stayed still for a moment, not wanting to disturb anything prematurely. How was it possible that the night before he had thought that there was no chance that Sveta would ever be in his life again?

It seemed like a lifetime ago that he'd been alone in the store when it was robbed, ready to run away from facing her again. He wished that he hadn't had a year between this and the last time he'd seen her, but of all the ways that it could have played out, he wasn't complaining about this.

He stayed there for a few minutes, his head resting on his arm as he watched the way that Sveta breathed in and out, blissfully unaware that the world was going on without her. 

After it had felt like long enough, he carefully extracted himself from the tangle of limbs and bedding to stand on the floor next to the bed. After pulling on a pair of boxers and some sweatpants, Matt began his mission of conquering cooking without waking her up.

It went pretty well at first, but it was only a few minutes before he looked up and realized he must've woken her somewhere along the way.