Chapter 120: What Voyeurism? This Is Observation!
After some time, the shifting stopped.
Matthew's face returned to its original appearance.
He now had the same shapeshifting capability Miranda possessed. Though calling it shapeshifting undersold the actual ceiling: like Miranda, he could also separate portions of his body from his main form and have the separated parts take on entirely different shapes. If he felt like it, he could approximate Itachi Uchiha's crow clone technique.
His hand began to change as he thought this.
A peregrine falcon tore itself free from his wrist, hopped to the windowsill, and launched into the air.
"This is useful." Matthew watched New York through the falcon's eyes.
The falcon circled Stark Tower. Through the glass: Tony and Pepper in the upper office, talking and laughing, music going. In the absence of any villains causing trouble, Tony appeared to be having a very pleasant afternoon.
"Tony! There's a bird out here!" Pepper pointed at the falcon from where she sat on the desk.
"A bird? Where?"
Tony asked this automatically, then crossed to the window with his glass, following Pepper's finger.
On the ledge, a falcon with immaculate plumage stood completely still, looking directly at him. It occasionally dipped its beak to groom its wing feathers.
Tony found this interesting. He turned to the half-finished steak on the desk, took two quick steps, speared a piece on a fork, and fed it through the window gap.
The falcon looked at the steak. Then looked at Tony. Then looked at the sauce on the steak, appearing to calculate whether making contact with it was worth the cleaning time. It shuffled sideways by two steps with a humanlike expression of assessment that landed firmly in the category of rejection.
Tony stared.
"Tony, I think it just turned its nose up at you." Pepper's voice carried a note of amusement.
"I can see that." Tony's mouth went flat.
He couldn't exactly argue with a bird. He ate the steak himself in a pointed way and then waved his free hand at the falcon to shoo it off.
The falcon looked at the waving hand.
Then extended one talon, middle toe raised.
Tony stared at this for a moment.
"Tony, I believe it's just made its position on you quite clear."
"I noticed." His mouth twitched.
He had never encountered this specific kind of bird before. It had no fear of people and an active personality disorder. Unable to chase it away, Tony pulled the curtains closed between them.
Matthew, having run out of entertainment on that side, let the falcon sweep off the ledge and disappear.
Ada's office window was open.
Two planters sat on the sill, crowded with night-blooming jasmine that had spread into the room and left a faint, sweet scent on the air. Ada was at her desk in casual clothes, her fingers moving steadily across the mouse. At her feet, her tuxedo cat Milky lay sprawled, tail swaying, rubbing its face against Ada's heel.
The moment Milky noticed the falcon, she was on her feet.
Full Spinosaurus mode: arched back, puffed to twice her apparent size, sideways shuffle to the window, yowling challenges at the intruder.
"Milky. What are you doing."
Ada had long since accepted that she owned a deranged cat. She saw the standoff at the window, sighed once, and returned to her screen.
It would be fine. There was a screen in the way. The cat couldn't get out.
Then Ada watched the falcon begin actively luring Milky toward the screen.
Three seconds. The cat had the screen open.
The falcon grabbed Milky in both talons and took off.
Ada: ". . ."
Matthew took the cat on a brief circuit of the surrounding airspace and returned her through the window.
The landing produced a dull sound.
Milky, deeply reconsidering her life choices, scrambled for her bed at maximum speed. She made it there while simultaneously leaving a trail across the floor that described the route in detail.
Ada looked at the puddle on her floor. Then at the falcon, standing on the windowsill with an air of complete self-satisfaction.
Her finger twitched.
She took a breath. Let it out. Called housekeeping.
When the floor was clean, she sat back down. The falcon remained on the sill. Matthew watched Ada work with nothing particular in mind, standing in the sun.
Time moved at the pace time moves when nothing is happening.
Ada rolled her neck. Checked her watch.
2:30.
"Eleanor." Ada exhaled quietly. "Please come back soon. I really don't enjoy formal settings." She muttered this while reaching into the wardrobe for her business suit. "Especially when the other party is military."
She didn't bother locking the door.
The casual clothes came off.
The falcon's attention sharpened considerably.
Ada was most of the way through the change, standing in a black lace ensemble that matched the one from the other night, when her peripheral vision caught the falcon's expression.
There was something specific about how it was looking at her.
She paused.
She reached one hand back and placed her fingers on the clasp.
The falcon's eyes lit up.
Ada studied it.
"Want a closer look?"
The falcon took a small step backward, found the edge of the sill, and planted its feet. Its expression communicated: this distance is optimal, thank you.
Ada looked at the bird for a moment longer. Then she finished dressing, confirmed she looked acceptable, and headed out at a brisk pace.
Matthew recalled the falcon to his hand. It compressed back into his palm without drama.
Voyeurism.
What voyeurism. This was observation. Professional, investigative observation of a colleague's working environment.
Besides, it had been the falcon that looked. Not him. He was merely the operator. Entirely different situation.
He settled his thoughts and turned his attention inward, reaching toward the deeper changes that had been happening in his body since the fusion completed.
If he was reading it correctly, something had awakened.
He looked at the fish tank across the room.
He thought about it.
The water in the tank behaved as though it had been transported, without warning, into a zero-gravity environment. Under the pull of its own surface tension, it drew together and lifted: a trembling, perfectly spherical pudding of water, floating in midair.