She's always right, Matthew Murdock. Just accept it. Life would be so much easier. She can't stop the rolling and roiling of his stomach, but she can try to ease the discomfort a bit. "If you're going to be sick, better to have something to come up," she points out. "But if we're lucky, that won't be a problem. And if we're not, we'll deal with it."

The resistance under her hand is unexpected and worrisome. She squeezes again, testingly, then moves her other hand down to move lightly over his abdomen. "Does that hurt?"

She loves that smile. She's smiling back and leans her head in to brush her chin against his chest. "What, you think I'm the only one who might be smitten with you? You only get to get away with that because you don't know what you look like. Trust me, it's entirely likely the weather tames itself for your pleasure."