Your second shift starts a lot better, realizing you're on a tropical vacation with Killgrave, your criminal partner-in-crime from the week before (and Faith's boyfriend Roy, which is a new development), and sure you're literally in the middle of a very...interesting position (gymnastics really pays for itself as an adult, it seems) but neither one of you seem to care and if anything it just makes it that much funnier for you. Your counterpart can't have all the damn fun, can she? And judging by the look he gets in his eyes, he thinks the exact same thing, so why not enjoy it and reap the benefits from this new relationship both of you seem to have woken up into? Wouldn't be the first time you took advantage of it, after all.

Later when it's morning and you're both packed to go home, the idea comes up to enjoy the last few hours of your trip the best way the two of you know how.

Well, okay, second best way that the two of you know how.

After all, you're on a tropical island with loads and loads of rich people, dripping with diamonds, big with the indiscretions and devious intentions, and hell some of the people vacationing here make you look like a damn saint. Almost like an Avenger, and god, you shudder at the thought. There had once been a time where you wanted to prove yourself to those people but not anymore. You're not a hero, and you sure as fuck don't want to be. You don't play by anyone rules but your own, and as long as people stay on your good side, they were bound to have the best luck of their lives. The two of you split up, you con the older horny gentlemen (and women, surprisingly) out of their jewels and their cash, and he's off doing what he does best and getting the same if not better result. He meets up with you later, wearing sunglasses and a devious smirk, and you find yourself grinning in return; you haven't had this much fun in years, and it's surprising that Killgrave is the one to bring it out of you.

He likes things done a certain way, and you gotta admit that you're not seeing anything bad about that - you're the same. Keep it clean, leave no evidence, get away with what you want. It's perfect really, and you're pretty proud of Faith for locking this down; it proves that she can do something right, especially when she wants something bad enough. It's just something else you and Faith have in common. And now, you have a shiny new necklace (or seventeen, just to start) and he's got a new diamond Rolex (and a lot of cash) and well, this might have been the best vacation ever. The criminally rich get richer. You can so get used to this. In fact, you plan on it.

When you arrive back to Boston, you can tell Faith doesn't want to part from his side, but you know that he's most likely itching to get away to cause his own brand of chaos, even if his counterpart might want to stay around you. You don't mind, you know well enough you'll meet up with him again later in the week. Because you're going to want to have more fun, and it still cracks you up that he's apparently your brand of fun. Despite everything, maybe you're growing interested in the guy. If anything, he looks great walking away. Among other things.

You're home now, and it's been awhile since you've been home, since you've apparently decided to go out on a romantic trip for a week (which, you're not sure if you should laugh or give yourself a mental high five, but hey, it makes you happy -- both of you, or is it all four of you? -- and you're not going to complain), and this means you've got to clean.

So the music goes on loudly, and you're wearing a black tank top with just your silver underwear on and maybe you're doing more dancing than cleaning, but you'd at least swear you're getting stuff done. Your cat Cleo is walking around on all the furniture as you dance your way through cleaning, though eventually it's given up for a bottle of beer that you have in the fridge and whatever reading materials that are lying around.

Music still blasting, beer now in hand, you're swaying to the music as you go over everything that's on the kitchen counter. Bills, bills, resumes, letters from your (Faith's) mother that promptly go into the trash, and then you see it. A collection of comic books, all featuring, well…you. Or the Black Cat version of you, and you realize that Faith has been trying to do her research, since her and her boyfriend seemed to have figured out who they were. You make a mental note to ask him if he's aware of this (though judging by the fact that you can already assume the smug reply that he most likely does).

There are plenty of things here, and while you know them as memories, they're written on paper as if they're someone's stories, and you wonder if Faith is sympathetic to how you've been treated and thrown around through the years.

You stop swaying, and you look to the ceiling, as if you're waiting for an answer. Her voice in your head confirms, I like how you took charge of your life. We're similar, you and I.

"That we are, kitten," You laugh, as you go back to swaying and dancing to the music, and go through picking out a random comic book, though you note there are others here other than just about you. You see a comic cover that has the top of it covered by the bills and papers you moved around, but a purple suit tells you why this one was picked up. You'll read that one later.

You're flipping through a particular comic, laughing at the portrayal of things, "You know, Faith, darling, this isn't exactly how it went," As you look at the panel drawn of you on a man's couch, costumes half off, the man's mask not doing the best to hide his red curls under the red horned mask. "I wasn't wearing a silver anything, the colors of this are all wrong!" You're talking to yourself, and Cleo is meowing at you in confusion, but you shrug it off. Well don't get any ideas on finding this guy, Felicia, Faith sternly tells you, and you roll your eyes. I'm very happy with Roy--, you wave your hand in the air as if to cut her off, as if it was a real face to face conversation. "Yeah, I know! Jesus, you're not as much fun as you lead on. But at least you pick attractive company, and he's been pretty useful so far" Faith's voice hmms in agreement, which is weird considering, but you're not going to question it. Yet.

You're looking at the panel, walking through the living room, drinking your beer as you hear a knock on the door, "Come in," You call out sweetly, not really thinking to check who is at the door, and not really looking up, because his voice tells you instantly that it's Faith's best guy friend Michael, and really he's missed you so much on vacation, the poor thing, he's got to be just checking in on you.

"Heya, Faith" He says, and you're in the middle of drinking and swallowing down the beer, looking at the panel in your hand one more time, before you look up.

When you do though, you stop dancing to the music, and you drop the beer to the floor and it goes crashing at your feet. Cleo meows curiously and Michael looks confused, as he tries to ask you what's wrong, you just pause.

"Matt? Are you fucking kidding me?" You say, and Faith's voice is panicking in your head please tell me my best friend isn't the guy you're fucking in that comic panel?

You don't say anything, you're just staring at him with shock, and in your head, the voice continues: Oh god, are you fucking kidding me?

There's a panic between you and Matt, as he immediately complements you on how beautiful you are, because he can see and this isn't good. He's looking to you for guidance and you give what you can, and you let it slip that most of your information comes from Roy -- whose name you stumble over at first, because your instinct is to call him Killgrave.

Matt catches onto this, and immediately asks if your mind is clear or if you're under mind control. And then he starts to remind you of all the things he knows about you thanks to Michael, and "does he know all the tricks, including that spot behind your knee?"

It's going to be a long night.

Frustrated, you fly out of your penthouse as fast as you can -- if flying was an ability to have, you'd literally fly away, but as that's not an option, driving as fast as you can is going to have to do. You're dressed how you prefer to dress, not how Faith does, so when you arrive at the apartment complex wearing a leather jacket and a low cut shirt, the neighbors look out into the hallway and you snap at them, "Take a picture, it lasts longer, darling." You bang again on the door and wait for him to answer, and when he does, Killgrave takes look at you with appreciation and amusement, and then immediately commands the neighbor to go away and mind their own business.

You hide the giggle from that, because as long as it's not being used on you, you do enjoy watching him work.

He's slightly disheveled and looks like you woke him up from a nap, and you ignore how he looks to the best of your ability as you start into a rant about Matt being here, and why the hell didn't He tell you that this could happen? He's amused and slightly annoyed at the same time, which is an accomplishment all on its own. You keep ranting, because you're annoyed that you're being thrown for such a loop, but soon you're being pulled into his lap once you say you need a distraction.

He puts two and two together based on the information that you've blurted out, and starts laughing, until the laughter stops and he notes with a certain tone that he's far more durable. You pick up on it instantly. You push his buttons. He pushes yours. Clothes are destroyed, as well as a few lamps and other things.

He knows the tricks, You think, and Faith agrees, and part of you wants to repeat that to Matt.

You decide then, both of you lying on the floor as he jokes about another go loud enough to make the cops come, that you'd much rather lie with the sinners than play with the saints.

You've never been much of a saint anyway.