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[Did he seriously buy that whole bottle? Or did he really have a hook up with the bartender here? Either way she wasn't complaining.

Taking the shot from him, Daisy was about to lift it when he spoke up again.]

So basically like what I do every night by myself? Cool.

[She's not completely serious. Raising her glass she waited for him to do the same before downing it.

Holy shit. That tastes awful.]

What the hell is that?

Yep. Except this time you have company. [And misery does so love company. He goes slow on his first shot, but by the time he sets it down he's still drained it of its contents.] So hey, silver lining: now you're not the only one feeling sorry for yourself!

[There's so much cheer in his voice for a guy who's hoping to get drunk tonight.]

That? Booze. Specifically whiskey. [A pause.] I can order something else if you want.

Yippee

[She's still struggling with the burn running down her throat and into her stomach right now, so unsurprisingly her voice sounds a little strained.]

Wow. You really want to get fucked up tonight.

[She probably won't do that many, but, she wouldn't mind forgetting about all of the ridiculous things happening in her life right now. Besides, she has off work tomorrow.]

That's the goal.

[Don't worry, he's got a cab lined up and everything. He pours another shot, and this one he knocks back fast. He coughs a little, from the burn of it down his throat.]

I did say it was a pity party, right? And, look at it this way, at least this one won't be ending up on the network.

[Reaching for the bottle, Daisy fills up her glass and downs it right as he starts coughing.

Here, she'll join you in that, Foggy.]

Good point.

Did you actually get this entire bottle for free?

...yep. Totally.

[The bartender gives him a dirty look, so—he's definitely lying about that. Oops. He fills up his glass, taking it slow this time and breathing out, tiredly.]

I just—I don't know. There're people who've been here more than two years, and despite the fact that they keep telling me time just stops while I'm here—

[He waves a hand, as if to say, how do we know for sure.]

I keep thinking, what if I'm missing back home?

[With her back to the bartender she doesn't see their face, but, Daisy doesn't exactly believe him either.

This was going to turn into a therapy session, wasn't it? As long as the attention didn't turn to her Daisy was fine with this. She doesn't refill her glass just yet.]

You're not. Time sort of stops for you back home, until you get back. It's really weird.

[She says this as someone with experience in going back home and then ending up back here again.]

That's what everyone keeps saying. [Another sip. He's not even drunk yet and he's already a little morose about this.] And I believe them, I really do. But I just can't stop thinking that way, y'know?

[It's dumb, and it's irrational too given what he's been told, but there it is, out in the open.]

I keep thinking that if I ever go back, my best friend's going to be [dead in a gutter somewhere] down a manhole, or something. Or he and our other friend are in way over their heads without me around, or our firm's bankrupt, or god knows what else. And that's if.

[Daisy had very much been in the same head space when she first arrived here, and she couldn't understand how anyone could be so calm. Until it happened to her. Sure, she still wanted nothing more than to be back home protecting people like her, but she can't do it. Not now.]

There's only so much you can do when you're here. I know it's easier said than done, and you can totally spend the entire length of your stay here thinking about that.

[There's a 'but' coming.]

But, it won't do you any good.

[Yep. This was totally a therapy session.]

[Oh, god, this pity party's taken a hard left turn into a therapy session, when did that happen?]

I know that. [Then why are you drinking, Nelson?] I know. I've been studying up on the law here, because I can't spend my whole stay here just thinking about what might be going on, but.

[There's always a but. He sighs.]

It's like you said: easier said than done.

Yeah. I know.

[She still thinks about what was going on back home before she got taken back here. Daisy is still desperate to get back there and continue helping the Inhumans.

Reaching for the bottle, Daisy poured herself another shout. Unsurprisingly it still burned all the way down and her nose wrinkled in response.]

How long have you been a lawyer for?

Are we counting from when I passed the bar or from when my partner and I started our firm?

[He swirls the drink around in his hand, not wanting to drain the shot glass of its contents just yet.]

Because they're very different answers.

That new, huh?

[It was just a guess, but with the way he posed it as a question she was pretty sure that her assumption was correct.]

So new. [It's true either way, it's just a matter of how new.] But in our defense, we took down a crime lord in our first few months, so I'd say we're doing pretty well.

[The fact that his law partner runs around at night punching people in the face is not quite relevant to this conversation.]

What about you? What did you do before you got dragged here?

Uh. Yeah. I'd say you're doing really well.

[Daisy couldn't help but laugh a little how insane that sounded. Especially considering they were new.]

Kinda complicated, but, I kind of became a vigilante. God I hate that word.

[It did fit though. Daisy reached forward for the bottle and poured some in her glass. She really should ease up though. Just one more for now.]

[Oh. A vigilante.

Foggy finishes off his drink, tries very very hard not to think about Matt, bleeding on his apartment floor. It's not working, even with the buzz he's already building up.

...that's a fair bit of fog starting to drift around their ankles now. That's weird.]

Yeah, well. I'm not a big fan of it either. [His best friend's one, and all.] Why'd you become a vigilante? [Does she have someone, worrying about her back home? Does she have someone who's ready to stitch her up, should she come back bruised and battered and broken?

Do the people she loves even know, he wonders, or is she lying to them, the same way Matt did?]

[Oh yeah. She totally had someone to stitch her up after she got beat up. It was called alcohol, a needle and thread, and her own two hands.]

Why does anyone become a vigilante?

[Clearly dancing around the question because she doesn't want to talk about it.

Noticing something out of her peripheral vision Daisy looks down to see fog creeping up from the floor.]

The hell is that?

[Daisy kicked her foot a little, expecting to disappear. Nope. Still there.]

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