"It's fine," Jesus says good-naturedly enough. He's all smiles. No one's come up to him asking for an autograph or spitting on him so he thinks that's a win-win situation.

Jesus has no qualms about being here at all, no expectations other than a good, late night discussion of how Tony can find meaning in his life again and become a part of a society that needs him and not the superhero he feels he must be.

He has no idea if Tony looked him up online. If he'd watched videos, followed Twitter hashtags, if he's realized who, exactly, Jesus is other than a name or a symbol for a new version of the Occupy movement. It hardly matters.

"Do you give to charity?" he asks, breathless in the elevator. There's so much finery.