outstandingbalance | IC Contact Post

Offer still stands.

Want to come by, or should I meet you somewhere?

Dunno. I think your intern would kill me if he saw me and knew who I was.

My apartment's pretty empty, for obvious reasons. Though we're out of alcohol.

You make a strong point. Let's try to avoid plans with a high risk of murder and attempted murder.

I could bring something over with me, but you might have other pretty good reasons not to want to hang out there.

[Like things that would remind you of your dead roommate.]

How do you feel about a walk?

[Or will that lead to both of them hobbling around pathetically?]

Yeah, I'd like to end the year without any more of that.

There's a park closeby that's, uh. That's where Connor called me to meet him.

[ In other words, bad idea. Matt's gotten pretty good on his hooves, but he knows Natasha's been having some trouble too. ]

Maybe a bar would be better.

Edited 2015-12-28 23:04 (UTC)

Bar it is. I know a place.

[And she sends the address of a dive near the office.]

Edited 2015-12-28 23:36 (UTC)

K. I'll meet you there.

[ And he'll stand outside somewhat awkwardly, dressed in a hoodie and jeans, since he doesn't really know the place. But at least his minotaur sense guided him there perfectly. He's a bit wobbly still; hooves and new joins are not the easiest to deal with. He certainly doesn't look like a man who just killed someone, but that's probably because his glasses do a really good job of hiding the bags under his eyes. The redness in his face could easily be the weather. Totally not from crying, honest. ]

[Maybe because Natasha has more experience than most people with these things, she feels like she can see the death hanging over him. It's not the redness, and it's not even the way he seems to be trying to blend in. It's something in the way he stands.

But she's willing to pretend she doesn't notice.]

I wondered if you'd actually be here. I mean, I could have had it wrong.

[She doesn't really believe that.]

[ Matt shrugs. She must be joking-- she's Black Widow, after all. ]

What, you're doubting your skills now? I know I'm not exactly subtle.

[ No one knows who Daredevil is here, so he hasn't been trying to hide it quite as much. But it wouldn't be hard to put two and two together, even if the so-called < devil > guy typed pretty damn well for a blind guy. ]

So, this the place?

[ Or in other words, Matt would like to get some alcohol in him before he starts to cry, thanks. ]

[So much for lightening the mood. She did get what she wanted out of it though: they're not playing games. Not that she's planning to speak openly about his particular habits in the bar, but it's still good to know.]

This is it. C'mon. I'll get the first round.

[The bar she leads him into is a dive. Clean, for a dive, but there are certainly no pretensions. She trusts him to be able to follow her through the small crowd, her feet scraping distinctively against the floor.]

What do you want?

[ Matt appreciates her lack of condescension more than anything else. He's blind, but certainly not an invalid. The sounds and smells of the bar give him a pretty good idea for where they are, and his cane opens a somewhat clear route as he follows behind. (Though he does perhaps lightly step on a few people who won't move even when he taps their feet with his cane, but who can blame a blind man for being a little clumsy, hmm?) ]

Whiskey, on the rocks.

[ It'll taste like lighter fluid no matter how cheap or expensive it is, Matt's used to that. Good ol super senses. ]

[She finds them an empty booth in the back of the bar, mostly invisible from most of the rest of the bar and pauses to catch his hand and press it to the table top.]

Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a second with the drinks..

[ A (relatively) quiet booth isn't his usual, but it's just what he needs after the day he's had. He guides himself to his seat and presses up as close to the wall as he can. Maybe it's his senses or his instincts as a minotaur, but it gives him some degree of comfort as he presses his hand to the cold stone. Connor had died in a park. No walls there. No safety.

Matt sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He hasn't even scouted out the bar yet. On a good day he could tell how many people were in it, how many of them were drunk, and how many of them were faking. Tonight, all he knows is people aren't paying him much attention, which means they either get monsters frequently, or Natasha's bribed the bartender. Normally, Matt would be able to tell which.

He's a mess. But Natasha's an Avenger, she wouldn't take him anywhere dangerous, would she? ]

You're getting sloppy, Murdock. [ He mutters to himself, easily picturing Foggy's reprimanding tone. He can't help it. Every time his mind wanders, he's back home, thinking of how Connor isn't there anymore. That was his fault. ]

[Natasha doesn't leave him on his own long. That would defeat the purpose of inviting him out in the first place. She has the feeling she knows the kind of person he is. He's going to keep beating himself up.

Seemed to her there were more than enough people volunteering to do that on the network.

The glass with his whiskey clicks on the table in front of him, ice tinking softly. He might smell that Natasha has the same whiskey, no ice.]

There. I almost just brought the bottle, but why rush things.

Probably for the best. Start us off slow.

[ Which is awfully responsible of him to say, but alcohol and his enhanced senses don't make the best combo. He's in no hurry to get wasted.

Maybe.

Buzzed would be okay, though. ]

Thanks, by the way.

[ He reaches forward for his glass, dragging his fingers over the table until they make purchase on the glass. The smell alone tells him what she got them, but once upon a time he'd have been able to tell the year and the make before it even touched his lips. He doesn't miss that. ]

Would I be wrong figuring you aren't in a hurry to go home? [Call it an educated guess.]

You don't have to thank me. It's just a whiskey.

[Natasha takes a sip of her own before setting it down.]

How are you holding up?

What gave me away?

[ Matt smiles, hollow. His poker face is shit. At least the whiskey gives him something to do with his hands. He takes a sip, a long one, before setting it down and answering her question. ]

Not so good. [ Obviously. ] I killed my intern. That's. [ He laughs, the sound broken by a shaking breath. His eyes start to go damp. Good thing he's wearing his glasses. ] That's gotta be a breach of labor laws somewhere.

[His comment wins a short, dry laugh.] I'm sure. Somewhere, at least. I'm not sure they're unionized yet here.

[She watches his face, his hands, how he moves. He's not lying about not doing so good. She feels sorry for him—that he was the one who had to do it.]

Can I ask you something? You can say no, by the way. I won't press. We can talk about something else if you say so—I just wonder...

Paid internships were a lot less cutthroat in my day.

[ Ah, banter. At least it keeps his voice from shaking too bad. He's definitely open to talking about anything else, but he's not exactly good at it. Bleeding wounds? He can handle it. Emotional stuff? Not so much. But answering questions is probably something he can do. It'll keep his mind off the empty room in his apartment, or the memory of snapping his friend's neck. ]

What is it? [ He has his suspicions, though his judgement is severely clouded right now. He could he wrong. ] If it's a blind thing, I really don't mind. Ask away.

Not the blind thing, though I am curious about that. I knew you were pretty adventurous for a guy who can't see, but vigilantism is a little beyond even that.

[She rests her arms on the table, crossed in front of her and leans closer, dropping her voice slightly. If his hearing were normal, the words would only just reach him.]

I was going to ask if it was Connor's idea.

Never said I was a vigilante.

[ Though he goes pretty damn still at the implication. Again, his poker face is just terrible. Play it casual, Matt. Another sip of his whiskey and he's back to being relaxed. Mostly. Okay not really, but he's got a lot on his mind. Enough to miss the fact that she lowered her voice at all.

As for her question, he nods. ]

Yes, it was. He asked me. [ He almost leaves it there, but he seems to change his mind just as quick. ] But he's. He's normal, you know? There are no aliens or superheroes or costumed vigilantes in his world.

[ Normal. Sure, he was embroiled in a murder case and an accessory to some pretty serious felonies, but that's one secret Matt won't ever spill. ]

I gave him the idea when I-- when we first met. It was my fault he even considered it.

[She suspected as much. She watched his post, and knew she wasn't the first to ask—she had figured she knew the answer. Looks like she was right.]

That might be giving yourself a little too much credit, you know. It's not like it takes that much imagination to figure out killing someone to stop a rampage. Even if it's yourself.

[She smiles ruefully.] Maybe especially yourself, if you know you'll be back. He made a choice on his own.

Some people would say you're a good friend. [Not many, obviously, but some people.] And some people would think it was a little unfair to put that on you, when you're clearly not comfortable with killing, whether or not you're a vigilante.

[Whether or not he used that word, she was comfortable with it.]

[ Matt won't hear it, unfortunately. It's why he avoided saying as much publicly. He doesn't think Connor's to blame. Funny how good he is at shouldering that for other people. ]

I threatened him, when we first met. [ He says, by way of explanation. ] I didn't know who he was, or that we'd... you know, actually become friends.

[ He probably shouldn't be telling anyone this. The hesitation in his voice probably says as much. ]

He'd killed a lot of people. Gone blind with hunger and woken up just surrounded by all these bodies. I thought he was dangerous so I-I just wanted to scare him, but I told him if it happened again...

[ He trails off, the rest should be obvious enough. Now seems like a great time to finish his drink, actually. He takes a long chug and shakes his head at the burn. Foggy would be proud. ]

It's funny. [ It's not, but he chuckles, humorlessly. ] He actually approached me one time he saw me making threats on the network, that's when I explained everything. [ Everything she's assuming is probably true. He's not even gonna pretend at this point, lying would be too exhausting. ] He was right. This is what happens when you make threats, even if you don't plan on following them through. They catch up to you.

Very funny. [Her tone says that it's not. She reaches across the table, dragging his empty glass toward herself and pushing her mostly full one in front of him.

She knows he's not done.]

He must be something if he had you solved before I did. [Oh, she's had suspicions for a while now, but she likes confirmation. For the purposes of this conversation, she'll call his post confirmation and call this the truth.]

And you take a lot on yourself. [She licks her lips.] So tell me this. If you're not a vigilante, what would you call yourself?

That, or neither of us can shut up once we start crying.

[ He does kinda laugh for that one. Self-deprecating humor is so his specialty. He also accepts her drink, taking another long sip before setting it back down. Natasha is an Avenger, and likely the one with the most secrets out of all of them. He doubts he could keep it quiet for much longer, and it's not like she has anyone to tell. ]

They called me a couple of things, back home. The Man In The Mask, or the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, that kind of thing. Lately it's Daredevil. I kinda like that one. [ He shrugs. It's a big deal to him, but the names aren't why he does it. ] But vigilante probably sums it up best.

Oh yeah, you definitely seem like a crybaby. [Her voice is wry as she speaks, less because she can't see him crying and more because she doesn't want him to feel judged, and because she is not a crier.]

Daredevil, huh? I think I like your alias better than mine.

[There's a touch of warmth in her voice as she adds:] It suits you though. Not afraid of anything. Not afraid to take all the blame on yourself, either.

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