Matt almost stumbled because thinking you're one place and then suddenly being somewhere else is incredibly disorienting, and not at all easy to handle when you were feeling lightheaded yet again. But once he found his balance and the recognition hit there was a very, very brief smile.

"Right. Nice of you to show, Petrelli."

He ran a hand over his forehead, grimacing faintly, but clapped Peter on the shoulder a second later in an appreciative gesture. He didn't quite realize he was bleeding. Dull aches had quickly become something to get used to, and the bullet hadn't pierced through muscle. He wasn't paying it much mind.

Listening to the distant gunfire had his expression set pretty quickly, however. There was so much blood on everybody's hands - he hated it and the whole thing left a bitter taste in his mouth. That was admittedly eased by Peter's company already - gave him something new to hang onto, in a way. He'd felt lonely, cut off. Had probably gotten a bit more aggressive than he needed to be because of that.

"Do you know what's going on outside?"

A serious question and an answer he needed. New York was lost. Likely would remain so.