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“It’s pink,” Captain America said. Again. As though color was the only attribute you could ascribe to alien creatures.
“I got that,” Matt said, “Are there any other characteristics you can think of?”
“What else do you need?” Ironman said, “The thing is pink . Pink like nothing on earth is pink, eyesearingly, blindingly pink.”
“I’ll be sure not to look at it too hard then,” Matt said flatly, “Anything else? ”
“The pink is very overwhelming, kind of makes it hard to notice anything else,” Captain America said, slightly apologetically, “But you’ll definitely know it when you see it.”
Wow, so helpful.
The Avengers had, as usual, fucked up. And as was unusual, they had come to the devil for help. Their explanation was long and not very coherent: something, something, lost alien pet, something, something potential intergalactic diplomatic incident. Point was, they’d lost something in Hell’s Kitchen, and they’d heard that Daredevil was very, very good at finding lost things in his territory.
Which Matt was! So long as he had more to go on than it’s pink.
“Um, it has three legs?” Hawkeye offered.
Finally some actual information. Seems at least one of the avengers could use those eyes in his head for genuine observational purposes, way to go Hawkeye for living up to his hero name.
“As in it’s missing one, or its species is just like that?” Matt asked.
“Pretty sure it’s a tripodal animal. Tripedal? Whatever the word for that would be,” Hawkeye said.
“Why the fuck didn’t you lead with that?” Matt asked.
He didn’t listen to the answer. The sound of a three-legged creature, a gait entirely unlike that of any earth animal, caught his attention now that he was listening for it, and he was off.
“The thing had three legs, a soft pelt of something that was neither fur nor feathers, somehow smelled strongly of a cross between cotton candy and whisky, and ran a full ten degrees hotter than any mammal on earth, and all they could think to tell me about it was that it was pink,” Matt complained to Foggy the next morning.
“But at least you got to meet a weird alien lapdog,” Foggy said, “Was it cute?”
“I mean, it was small and very soft and warm,” Matt said, “But it understandably hated my guts. And another thing the Avengers didn’t bother to tell me was whether or not it was venomous, so that was an interesting few minutes of my life.”
“Did you ask the Avengers if it was venomous, or dangerous at all? Or did you just run after it without thinking things through like usual?” Foggy asked, ruthlessly sensible.
“Um,” Matt said.
“Well, you’re not dead,” Foggy said “So I guess it turned out alright in the end. And you got to hold an actual, genuine alien life form!”
“It was a little bit cool,” Matt admitted, “And so soft, and it purred when I finally gave it back to Captain America, who it apparently likes. I can understand being a little obsessed with it, though not nearly enough to start a war over. Here, I took pictures.”
“Oh, wow,” Foggy said, looking at the pictures on Matt’s phone. “That’s. I don’t know how to describe what that looks like. It’s really pink.”
Matt made a strangled sound.