[ One could argue it isn't late at night โ one could argue it is, in fact, early in the morning, when Foggy gets this text.
(Matt. Matt will argue this fact, having had virtually no time to sleep in conjunction with a rather nasty drug bust as Daredevil, where he is too wired too sleep and his brain is simply working too fast for him to force himself to sleep properly. He laid on his mattress for approximately thirty minutes before propping his laptop open and getting his needed paperwork ready on the side.) ]
Just to confirm, what time is our meeting with our client tomorrow?
[ Friday nights at Josie's are more of a ritual for the firmโ for Foggy, Karen, and him. Sometimes he's able to make it, other times he has to bail with a poor, semi convincing, excuse on his lips as he spends his night being somebody else, somebody a little too close to his skin that makes him feel comfortable. Tonight, despite his open bruises hidden behind glasses and a smile, he has made an appearance.
Foggy and Karen are, first of all, elated. Worried, as always, but elated.
Matt shares that enthusiasm, has to hide the overstimulation taking over his body deep down at the different smells, the sounds, of so many people inside the bar. He's become used to muffling it out, focusing on a handful of comforting, familiar, sounds to make the experience better until he's a little buzzed. He's halfway bent over a pool table, Karen standing by with an amused sort of smile watching him and Foggy watching tensely as he lines up his shot.
Then, in the time it takes for him to feel the displaced air and the jingle of the door opening, he hears itโ her heartbeat. He's heard it edge a similar pace to this when the fight as over, when he'd been able to gather his wits and realize she had powers. And if it isn't the heartbeat, it's her smell that gives her away, even as she wanders into the distinct scent of Josie's with all the intent of getting a drink at the bar.
'Uh, Matt?' Foggy says, watching him angle his head minutely to the side before he purposely fumbles his turn. Everybody groans and Matt looks sheepish, because it's not like he could see which balls were his, right? And his punishment? Getting a round of drinks for everyone up at the bar. He makes a show of him putting the billiard down โ a halfway fumble that Foggy affectionately grabs โ before making his way over to the barโ right up to where Daisy's sat herself. ]
โPowerplex, or Scott Duvall, is passionate. Flawed. Swallowed by his pursuit for justice and Matt can only sympathize, his yearning for what's right when the system has made everything so wrong. So hard. He listens, and listens, and listens, as he explains his case. Presents his evidence. As they cross examine timelines, gather a case. It's the first time he's been involved with something so blatantly superโ it makes his skin itch.
(He wonders if Jennifer feels the same crawl on her body as he does, hearing the things a super plaintiff has done (allegedly, always important to discern: allegedly) done.)
Scott Duvall pleads, to him and Kirsten.
Matt has to stand there and pretend like he can't relate, the complications of heroism. Unneeded deaths. Pain and grief, and misery. His hands only grip his cane as Kirsten takes hold of the conversation, covering for a very distracted Matt Murdock. By the end of it, he reassures Scott that he is in good hands. Asks if there is anyone he personally knows that can corroborate his story before parting ways. Insisting he contact the firm, or either of them.
It's mostly a courtesy, him saying that.
Cherry wouldn't approve. No one would, really. Matt dons his cowl and he is on the streets, gathering intel. Biding his time. By day three he's got a good whiff of Invincible and his erratic schedule. He's leaping on roofs and climbing staircases, slowing where needed as Invincible hovers in the air and fights lower-level baddies, his destruction minimal. ]
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My most oldest and most trusted superhero pal.
Quick one
Do you remember signing me up to steal a whale?
the fact i actually just read that issue has me hollering gjkgsdg
fkrdlgd me like trying to remember the last positive team-up DD and spider-man had
2/2
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All of them, if you get my drift.
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(Matt. Matt will argue this fact, having had virtually no time to sleep in conjunction with a rather nasty drug bust as Daredevil, where he is too wired too sleep and his brain is simply working too fast for him to force himself to sleep properly. He laid on his mattress for approximately thirty minutes before propping his laptop open and getting his needed paperwork ready on the side.) ]
Just to confirm, what time is our meeting with our client tomorrow?
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Foggy and Karen are, first of all, elated. Worried, as always, but elated.
Matt shares that enthusiasm, has to hide the overstimulation taking over his body deep down at the different smells, the sounds, of so many people inside the bar. He's become used to muffling it out, focusing on a handful of comforting, familiar, sounds to make the experience better until he's a little buzzed. He's halfway bent over a pool table, Karen standing by with an amused sort of smile watching him and Foggy watching tensely as he lines up his shot.
Then, in the time it takes for him to feel the displaced air and the jingle of the door opening, he hears itโ her heartbeat. He's heard it edge a similar pace to this when the fight as over, when he'd been able to gather his wits and realize she had powers. And if it isn't the heartbeat, it's her smell that gives her away, even as she wanders into the distinct scent of Josie's with all the intent of getting a drink at the bar.
'Uh, Matt?' Foggy says, watching him angle his head minutely to the side before he purposely fumbles his turn. Everybody groans and Matt looks sheepish, because it's not like he could see which balls were his, right? And his punishment? Getting a round of drinks for everyone up at the bar. He makes a show of him putting the billiard down โ a halfway fumble that Foggy affectionately grabs โ before making his way over to the barโ right up to where Daisy's sat herself. ]
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๐ฉ๐๐ฉ๐ก๐๐๐๐ง๐ ๐ mark
โPowerplex, or Scott Duvall, is passionate. Flawed. Swallowed by his pursuit for justice and Matt can only sympathize, his yearning for what's right when the system has made everything so wrong. So hard. He listens, and listens, and listens, as he explains his case. Presents his evidence. As they cross examine timelines, gather a case. It's the first time he's been involved with something so blatantly superโ it makes his skin itch.
(He wonders if Jennifer feels the same crawl on her body as he does, hearing the things a super plaintiff has done (allegedly, always important to discern: allegedly) done.)
Scott Duvall pleads, to him and Kirsten.
Matt has to stand there and pretend like he can't relate, the complications of heroism. Unneeded deaths. Pain and grief, and misery. His hands only grip his cane as Kirsten takes hold of the conversation, covering for a very distracted Matt Murdock. By the end of it, he reassures Scott that he is in good hands. Asks if there is anyone he personally knows that can corroborate his story before parting ways. Insisting he contact the firm, or either of them.
It's mostly a courtesy, him saying that.
Cherry wouldn't approve. No one would, really. Matt dons his cowl and he is on the streets, gathering intel. Biding his time. By day three he's got a good whiff of Invincible and his erratic schedule. He's leaping on roofs and climbing staircases, slowing where needed as Invincible hovers in the air and fights lower-level baddies, his destruction minimal. ]
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