It was awkward. There was no other word for it. The apartment was a mess, even if he couldn't entirely see it, she was teary eyed, and if she didn't hold tight enough to the bottle, she was afraid she was going to shake so hard to drop and break it.

So she settled in at the table, not across from him but beside, turning her chair to face him more fully, dragging it along the floor to do so. Letting him speak, considering her words as she twisted the bottle on the table, making circles with it just to try and have a focus and not panic.

"You walked away before, Matt," she said, her voice soft, fighitng to not make it accusatory but a statement of fact. Which was how she saw it. "You... you made choices, and I don't ... I can't see how they were ever supposed to be better for me. I get maybe it was easier for you that I didn't know. Then you didn't have to worry about me worrying like Foggy was, and he did, and how much he panicked with all the things with Castle and Daredevil," she said, speaking it out, trying to let him know how she felt without attacking.

"But it did nothing to help me, Matt. I thought you were an alcoholic. I thought you chose that over Foggy and me. I thought..." She stopped, voice cracking. I statements. That how they said to do it, right? NOt accusing but sharing.