[It’s homey. That’s the first thing he thinks when he glances in—after he’s successfully circumvented Wanda’s exasperation of him showing up unannounced, at least—and Stephen casts a glance around, seeming to realize that he’s never actually visited her version of a home-away-from-home domain. It had always been either outside of the cabin, or in a ruined altar with a blizzard buffetting the exterior, never from within. And there’s almost too much to look at for a man who wants to commit everything to memory, wants to parse what he can about Wanda’s living space, but he doesn’t want to be left behind; secondarily, he doesn’t want to be too rude, either, and linger in doorways he wasn’t invited into.

And so he follows. The “we” makes his brow raise (so is he interrupting something?), but when the space opens up into the living room, his eyes land on Matt, and the question of that is duly answered.

Matt Murdock. Lawyer? Lawyer. Is he interrupting a social call, or…?]

Sorry, if I had known you had company, I would have checked-in first.

[Too late now. Well, time to wear a veneer of politeness, which he admittedly slips back on with some ease. Stephen crosses close to Matt, extending a scarred hand for a shake by thoughtless habit alone.]

You can just call me Stephen. So a fellow New Yorker, huh? Which part?