[ Matt lets his back dig into the back of the couch, head angled slightly towards the screen reader that reads out Foggy's texts message by message. He imagines his voice in his head with every word that's pronounced, gently lets the full weight of his head rest on the cushion.
And thenโ there's a wry sort of smile. He's right, tends to always be when he reads him hook, line, and sinker. It's freeing in a way, to be read so easily between the lines like this. Foggy makes it a little less scary โ arguably manages this with a lot of things โ the thought of him coming over while he's like this. ]
I'm handsome, though? I didn't even know.
[ Teasing. Goading. Purposely obtuse because Foggy has told Matt enough how good looking he is. Then there's a beat or two of silence, a quiet 'but' that precursors hisโ ]
Okay.
[ And he's up, gently moving off the couch to wander over to his fridge to see if he has anything to offer Foggy when he arrives (all with a slow, careful and strained gait). ]
We can run over your opening statement and work through some talking points we need to hit. I'll be here.
[thatโs the thing with having the responsibility of being mattโs best friend: patience, and being able to read between the lines at all those things left unsaid. they used to be inseparable, once upon a time, when the playing field was even (yes, even, despite matt being blind), but now with this daredevil side gig (or main gig?) that mattโs got going on, itโs hard for foggy to feel like they are even in the same planet at times.
to be able to touch base on these small things that are still them is important to him, and itโs important also for matt, he bets. to make that clear line between matt the lawyer and matt the vigilante.
foggy worries, and yet this is one of the very few things he can focus on doing.
he leaves matt a couple of messages for when heโs heading out, to keep his friend in the loop, and takes a sideturn into a deli to buy some very late night pulled-beef tacos. god bless new york, the city that never sleeps.
this does eat up some extra minutes of his arrival time, but foggy makes it quite alright, helping himself inside the apartment after checking to see if the door was locked or not.]
You knowโ youโre not allowed to tell me to be careful because itโs late at night when you leave your door unlocked.
[maybe he left it for foggy! but his point stands. the apartment is, unsurprisingly, in the dark, but for the neon-bright light that spills in through the tall windows; there is some light coming from the kitchenโs sink area, and foggy helps himself further inside, setting his bag of goodies on the dining table, his backpack on a chair.]
Do I get to comment on how you look?
[not on a handsome scale! but on a โyou look like shit scaleโ.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Just this time.
[ Matt lets his back dig into the back of the couch, head angled slightly towards the screen reader that reads out Foggy's texts message by message. He imagines his voice in his head with every word that's pronounced, gently lets the full weight of his head rest on the cushion.
And thenโ there's a wry sort of smile. He's right, tends to always be when he reads him hook, line, and sinker. It's freeing in a way, to be read so easily between the lines like this. Foggy makes it a little less scary โ arguably manages this with a lot of things โ the thought of him coming over while he's like this. ]
I'm handsome, though? I didn't even know.
[ Teasing. Goading. Purposely obtuse because Foggy has told Matt enough how good looking he is. Then there's a beat or two of silence, a quiet 'but' that precursors hisโ ]
Okay.
[ And he's up, gently moving off the couch to wander over to his fridge to see if he has anything to offer Foggy when he arrives (all with a slow, careful and strained gait). ]
We can run over your opening statement and work through some talking points we need to hit.
I'll be here.
Be careful, it's late at night.
no subject
[thatโs the thing with having the responsibility of being mattโs best friend: patience, and being able to read between the lines at all those things left unsaid. they used to be inseparable, once upon a time, when the playing field was even (yes, even, despite matt being blind), but now with this daredevil side gig (or main gig?) that mattโs got going on, itโs hard for foggy to feel like they are even in the same planet at times.
to be able to touch base on these small things that are still them is important to him, and itโs important also for matt, he bets. to make that clear line between matt the lawyer and matt the vigilante.
foggy worries, and yet this is one of the very few things he can focus on doing.
he leaves matt a couple of messages for when heโs heading out, to keep his friend in the loop, and takes a sideturn into a deli to buy some very late night pulled-beef tacos. god bless new york, the city that never sleeps.
this does eat up some extra minutes of his arrival time, but foggy makes it quite alright, helping himself inside the apartment after checking to see if the door was locked or not.]
You knowโ youโre not allowed to tell me to be careful because itโs late at night when you leave your door unlocked.
[maybe he left it for foggy! but his point stands. the apartment is, unsurprisingly, in the dark, but for the neon-bright light that spills in through the tall windows; there is some light coming from the kitchenโs sink area, and foggy helps himself further inside, setting his bag of goodies on the dining table, his backpack on a chair.]
Do I get to comment on how you look?
[not on a handsome scale! but on a โyou look like shit scaleโ.]