[and one could also argue that franklin 'foggy' nelson deserves better than this. luckily for matt, foggy is also kind of neurotic and was up preparing his notes for a court hearing they have in two days.
it's just kind of annoying that matt just assumes he's awake.
[ Matt would argue for that, too. Would argue that he is lucky that Foggy is awake enough to reply, awake enough to cater to Matt's consistent (also, uh, inconsistent) and odd schedule that often times affects their practice.
But no, he'll never change or adjust it, despite being aware of this. Matt is nothing but stubborn, especially when he thinks he is right. His head cants to the side, ]
Couldn't sleep.
[ No matter how hard he tried, because he'd usually sleep in until he's borderline late. ]
remember when we were in columbia and we slept like babies after marathonic study sessions? yeah, me too. i miss those days.
[but now there's something else, too. foggy keeps forgetting, and it feels stupid to forget, that matt harbors a secret life at night. he had promised he wouldn't freak out with worry, but... matt's still his best friend. and blind, too. and stupidly reckless.]
Remember all the 'study sessions' we had where you tried to go over your Punjabi exercises?
[ The unsaid implication is: I miss it, too and I also miss when we'd bypass the studying and just eat trashy shit and drink beer and be normal. There's a wry, almost nostalgic, sort of smile that graces his lips, coupled with it. Right as he runs his fingertips over notes, reports that the two of them have received and that he is โ hm, barely refreshing over now. Completely bypassing the possible worry that would come with a question like, 'you went out tonight?'
Of course he did, he thinks. He goes out every night. But he isn't going to say thatโ ]
i'm going to take you texting me at ass in the morning asking me about our 10am meeting as a good sign that you're home and alive.
[it's not like foggy can stop matt from doing what he thinks he has to do. but he's also thinking this is why his friend can't get himself to sleep; too much adrenaline? either way, at least he's not unconscious in the gutter or up on a rooftop.]
want to talk about tonight? i could head over. we can discuss our client's situation.
[ He does, indeed, go through the effort of saying and punctuating this. Matt is blind, but he isn't blind to the way Foggy talks. He knows him. Knows what he means, especially when he puts emphasis on 'you're home and alive'. But that doesn't mean he readily replies to his suggestion, the unsaid request to just come check up on him to see how bad he's bleeding (arguably, not terrible, but not great either โ still, Matt has become used to stitching himself up).
It's a few minutes of tense thought before he replies. Gives him not necessarily a no, not necessarily a yes, either. ]
[now, hereโs the thing: foggy knows that itโs not fair of him to put matt on the spot, even if he personally thinks that this whole thing that he does is reckless and, at times, stupid. he is also aware that matt could very well leave him out of his vigilantism if he deems foggy as too nagging or just interfering in what he thinks must be done.
itโs a very thin line between being unable to stop worrying over his best friend and not wanting to do too much of it as to not have him be closed off from everyone.]
i really hate that every time i want to go over to hang out, youโre going to think that itโs because iโm โsecretlyโ trying to check if youโre bleeding on the couch.
[at least they have a level of openness with one another. and, since it was neither a no nor a yes...]
iโll head over and we can discuss our clientโs case. i really need to go over this opening statement with you, man.
i promise i wonโt say anything about your appearance or anything. other than โmaybe stop being so handsomeโ, because youโll probably need that ego boost.
okay?
[they both canโt sleep, wired as they may be for different things. foggy thinks this might help.]
[ 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
it's just kind of annoying that matt just assumes he's awake.
best friend that he is, he answers:]
10AM
why the hell are you up?
no subject
But no, he'll never change or adjust it, despite being aware of this. Matt is nothing but stubborn, especially when he thinks he is right. His head cants to the side, ]
Couldn't sleep.
[ No matter how hard he tried, because he'd usually sleep in until he's borderline late. ]
no subject
yeah, me too.
i miss those days.
[but now there's something else, too. foggy keeps forgetting, and it feels stupid to forget, that matt harbors a secret life at night. he had promised he wouldn't freak out with worry, but... matt's still his best friend. and blind, too. and stupidly reckless.]
you went out tonight?
no subject
[ The unsaid implication is: I miss it, too and I also miss when we'd bypass the studying and just eat trashy shit and drink beer and be normal. There's a wry, almost nostalgic, sort of smile that graces his lips, coupled with it. Right as he runs his fingertips over notes, reports that the two of them have received and that he is โ hm, barely refreshing over now. Completely bypassing the possible worry that would come with a question like, 'you went out tonight?'
Of course he did, he thinks. He goes out every night. But he isn't going to say thatโ ]
I had to.
It couldn't wait until tomorrow.
no subject
[blaming him for it, that's right.]
i'm going to take you texting me at ass in the morning asking me about our 10am meeting as a good sign that you're home and alive.
[it's not like foggy can stop matt from doing what he thinks he has to do. but he's also thinking this is why his friend can't get himself to sleep; too much adrenaline? either way, at least he's not unconscious in the gutter or up on a rooftop.]
want to talk about tonight? i could head over.
we can discuss our client's situation.
no subject
[ He does, indeed, go through the effort of saying and punctuating this. Matt is blind, but he isn't blind to the way Foggy talks. He knows him. Knows what he means, especially when he puts emphasis on 'you're home and alive'. But that doesn't mean he readily replies to his suggestion, the unsaid request to just come check up on him to see how bad he's bleeding (arguably, not terrible, but not great either โ still, Matt has become used to stitching himself up).
It's a few minutes of tense thought before he replies. Gives him not necessarily a no, not necessarily a yes, either. ]
You don't have to, Foggy.
I'll be fine.
You should get some rest.
no subject
itโs a very thin line between being unable to stop worrying over his best friend and not wanting to do too much of it as to not have him be closed off from everyone.]
i really hate that every time i want to go over to hang out, youโre going to think that itโs because iโm โsecretlyโ trying to check if youโre bleeding on the couch.
[at least they have a level of openness with one another. and, since it was neither a no nor a yes...]
iโll head over and we can discuss our clientโs case.
i really need to go over this opening statement with you, man.
i promise i wonโt say anything about your appearance or anything. other than โmaybe stop being so handsomeโ, because youโll probably need that ego boost.
okay?
[they both canโt sleep, wired as they may be for different things. foggy thinks this might help.]
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.]