"I just feel kinda bad about it," Billy muttered around a celery stalk. "We really monopolize him, you know? He has better things to do than take care of us."

"He's not taking care of us, Billy, god you're so stupid," Tommy replied, not even looking up from where he lay face-down on Matt's hardwood floor, trigonometry homework spread out in front of him. "Murdock's, like, chaperoning us. He's making sure you and Teddy don't try to bone in his bed or something, Christ."

"Ew!" Kamala hit him with a textbook. "Don't say stuff like that, Teddy wouldn't do something that rude, he's a guest!"

"Hey, what about me!"

"You're in the isolation booth Billy!"

America ignored all of them, as was her wont. "Billy, if it bothers you that much then write him a thank you note or something. Print it in Braille even, Matt would be thrilled."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Billy swallowed the rest of the celery and peered over the coffee table at Matt, who was reading a book on top of the kitchen counter, fingers flying over the pages and pretending he couldn't hear them. "I still want to do something for him."

"Like what?"

Matt straightened suddenly. A smile crept over his face and he headed for the door. Suddenly the limp in his right leg became a lot less visible as he minimized the pulled muscle. Billy knew before the knock came that Foggy was on the other side; Matt only looked like that when his partner came to visit.

"I've got a couple ideas," Billy said. "Let's talk about it later."