"I can tell," Matt remarks quietly, referencing that sixth sense he's always seemed to have for reading those around him. Well, fifth. He leans forward in his seat, uncrossing his knees and letting his fingers find the fabric around the cuff of Neal's shirt. He pinches it demonstratively, as if to reference the fact he might've already known the man is dressed in garments far finer than either one of them could've imagined in their youth.
His own outfit says smiliar. Matt wears it with the kind of confidence that would make a person believe he's been dressing up and putting on airs his whole life. Neal might be the closest person to him right now who knows better than to believe that. They know it of each other, that is. They've tended each other through the scrapes and shared what little they had in the name of looking out for one another. In a way it feels like they're finally getting what's owed to them, but Matt knows better than to think it could be that easy.
"Is the social capital why you changed your name? Mr. Holden, is that right?"
Matt doesn't escape unscathed from that probing contact while Neal acclimates to the relationship they once had. He captures the other man's hand, holding it loosely between his fingers, thumb gently rubbing.
"Some things are easier with a clean slate," Neal says, and that's certainly not a lie but it's definitely not the truth, either. He could have probably gained the same traction as Neal Caffrey, but with his intentions being less than altruistic, he'd rather not point a finger back towards the only persona with lasting, precious connections. Like this one.
The fact that he intends to defraud Adler doesn't need to come up — that's between Neal and Mozzie — but he does worry about that fifth (sixth, seventh) sense that Matt's always had will lead him right to the conclusions that Neal's not ready to broach. Granted, he doesn't fear judgement from his friend, but then again he also knows that the more people who know what he's planning, the more difficult things will get.
"What a crazy coincidence finding you. I'd been meaning to call," he says, somewhat apologetically. "Hard to imagine it's been so long. Wasn't it just yesterday we were gangly teens shoving pizza into our mouths and sharing a blanket?" He squeezes Matt's hand before sliding away from the contact, mind drifting back to Kate as if she might be watching him from afar.
Finally finding the ability to shed the image he's carried with him throughout childhood has been just as good for Matt, too. In many ways he's still the quiet and solitary, bookish boy that Neal knew so well in their youth. But it's easier to disappear from a history that isn't written all over him when he first meets someone new. There's a power in being able to reserve back his story and be seen as something more than Jack Murdock's orphan kid, or the boy who survived the tragic blinding accident.
It's still unlike him to reach out to others for physical comfort beyond the superficial. Hugs make Matt uncomfortable, and he's not the sort to dwell in the presence of a woman he's taken to bed after the deed is over. But Neal is Neal. There's a comfort there that isn't manufactured. One that knows him better than anyone else. And so he holds his friend's hand without question, letting that connection both ground him in the past and give him an appreciation for what the preset has found him. He squeezes Neal's fingers until the other man pulls away, then reaches for his drink to replace the warmth of human contact with the chill of condensation on the side of the glass.
"I wish I could say it feels that way," he laughs, putting aside the mention of names for the time being and appreciating who Neal has always been, irrespective of what he wants to call himself. "I haven't felt that kind of lack of responsibility in a long time." There's a pregnant pause, and something mischievous twists at Matt's lips. "We ought to do it. Blow off everything, get a huge cheese pizza. Watch a movie. Talk about art, music, whatever."
Neal grins in turn, tickled by the suggestion, and not just because it reminds him of old times. There's something so... secret and special about their bond, it's difficult to not to want to indulge in old times, but also something worth protecting, like a small piece of himself that no one but Matt will ever know.
"Why not?" He asks, excited at the prospect. "But can you afford to goof off with me? I don't want to be the one responsible if you end up taking to a life of leisure." Of course he says that, but truth be told, if he could give Matt a life without complications, he most certainly would.
"Really?" The buttoned-up man at Neal's side suddenly grins like the child he once was. In the grand scheme of things, it shouldn't sound that scandelous. They're two grown men having a very legal drink at a bar. They could order another round right now, no fake IDs or distractions necessary. Hell, with what's in Matt's pocket from his loan checks, they could hit up just about any restaurant in a ten-block radius and order whatever they wanted from the menu. But nothing beats the idea of an authentic, cheap New York pizza and a night acting like kids.
"I think I'm strong enough to recover from one night of childish nostalgia," he decides with a laugh. "I think you're forgetting where I was raised. I'm no stranger to temptation, Neal.
Already digging into his pocket, he's into his wallet to drop a generous twenty on the table, glad to pay but slightly guilty over the fact that the money he's using was grifted. If he didn't feel somewhat entitled to the money he earned through the crimes he committed, he wouldn't dare spend the cash on someone with which he cared so much; however, stealing from thieves just doesn't rate as criminal to Neal. No, it's much closer to appropriate in his opinion because the cash is better utilized in his hands than in the hands of people who have so much that they're always greedy for more.
"Your place," he states simply, knowing it's the better choice. If Mozzie popped by for his daily check-in and found Neal distracted (again), Neal would have the lecture to look forward to, not to mention lots of questions he isn't looking to answer. "Do you think I'm going to miss an opportunity to see how you're living? Especially looking as good as you do," he says, that smile evident in his voice.
"We can get a cab if it's that far. I've got the tab, you can pick the movie."
He wouldn't have offered if he wasn't prepared for Neal to take him up on it, but Matt can't pretend he's not just a little disappointed by the decision. In some ways, he knows he owes his friend a long backlog of evenings hosting. Really, more than he'll ever be able to make up for. But what teenage boy would choose to hang around the public hallways of a church orphanage anyway? It's been a given for most of their friendship that the two boys would find themselves in whatever accommodations Neal keeps for himself. It's only time that Matt return the favor.
The compliment goes a long way towards soothing any lingering sense of mistrust, and the man pitches back what's left of his drink and grabs his cane. "I look good; that doesn't mean the place does," he grins and slaps Neal on the shoulder as they wind their way back out streetside. "How do you think I afford the expensive suits? Got to cut corners somewhere."
In truth, the apartment isn't quite as bad as he makes it sound. At least as far as space in the city is concerned. And it is a decent amount of space, all things considered. "Then I'll get the pizza," Matt barters. "What's your preference these days? What does Mr. Holden like?"
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His own outfit says smiliar. Matt wears it with the kind of confidence that would make a person believe he's been dressing up and putting on airs his whole life. Neal might be the closest person to him right now who knows better than to believe that. They know it of each other, that is. They've tended each other through the scrapes and shared what little they had in the name of looking out for one another. In a way it feels like they're finally getting what's owed to them, but Matt knows better than to think it could be that easy.
"Is the social capital why you changed your name? Mr. Holden, is that right?"
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"Some things are easier with a clean slate," Neal says, and that's certainly not a lie but it's definitely not the truth, either. He could have probably gained the same traction as Neal Caffrey, but with his intentions being less than altruistic, he'd rather not point a finger back towards the only persona with lasting, precious connections. Like this one.
The fact that he intends to defraud Adler doesn't need to come up — that's between Neal and Mozzie — but he does worry about that fifth (sixth, seventh) sense that Matt's always had will lead him right to the conclusions that Neal's not ready to broach. Granted, he doesn't fear judgement from his friend, but then again he also knows that the more people who know what he's planning, the more difficult things will get.
"What a crazy coincidence finding you. I'd been meaning to call," he says, somewhat apologetically. "Hard to imagine it's been so long. Wasn't it just yesterday we were gangly teens shoving pizza into our mouths and sharing a blanket?" He squeezes Matt's hand before sliding away from the contact, mind drifting back to Kate as if she might be watching him from afar.
no subject
It's still unlike him to reach out to others for physical comfort beyond the superficial. Hugs make Matt uncomfortable, and he's not the sort to dwell in the presence of a woman he's taken to bed after the deed is over. But Neal is Neal. There's a comfort there that isn't manufactured. One that knows him better than anyone else. And so he holds his friend's hand without question, letting that connection both ground him in the past and give him an appreciation for what the preset has found him. He squeezes Neal's fingers until the other man pulls away, then reaches for his drink to replace the warmth of human contact with the chill of condensation on the side of the glass.
"I wish I could say it feels that way," he laughs, putting aside the mention of names for the time being and appreciating who Neal has always been, irrespective of what he wants to call himself. "I haven't felt that kind of lack of responsibility in a long time." There's a pregnant pause, and something mischievous twists at Matt's lips. "We ought to do it. Blow off everything, get a huge cheese pizza. Watch a movie. Talk about art, music, whatever."
no subject
"Why not?" He asks, excited at the prospect. "But can you afford to goof off with me? I don't want to be the one responsible if you end up taking to a life of leisure." Of course he says that, but truth be told, if he could give Matt a life without complications, he most certainly would.
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"I think I'm strong enough to recover from one night of childish nostalgia," he decides with a laugh. "I think you're forgetting where I was raised. I'm no stranger to temptation, Neal.
So, my place or yours?"
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"Your place," he states simply, knowing it's the better choice. If Mozzie popped by for his daily check-in and found Neal distracted (again), Neal would have the lecture to look forward to, not to mention lots of questions he isn't looking to answer. "Do you think I'm going to miss an opportunity to see how you're living? Especially looking as good as you do," he says, that smile evident in his voice.
"We can get a cab if it's that far. I've got the tab, you can pick the movie."
no subject
The compliment goes a long way towards soothing any lingering sense of mistrust, and the man pitches back what's left of his drink and grabs his cane. "I look good; that doesn't mean the place does," he grins and slaps Neal on the shoulder as they wind their way back out streetside. "How do you think I afford the expensive suits? Got to cut corners somewhere."
In truth, the apartment isn't quite as bad as he makes it sound. At least as far as space in the city is concerned. And it is a decent amount of space, all things considered. "Then I'll get the pizza," Matt barters. "What's your preference these days? What does Mr. Holden like?"