sixthiterationlogs | Nelson & Murdock

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Nelson & Murdock

WHO: Matt Murdock
WHERE: Chez Murdock => Bunker
WHEN: Sometime just before Take Two
OPEN TO: Foggy Nelson
WARNINGS: None as of yet

Since coming back from the shrine, it should feel like nothing's really changed even though some things have changed. A rocky patch with Elektra and setting some bridges alight aside, the place is more or less the same and everyone is carrying on with their lives. Even Matt is growing complacent, falling into step with the quotidian routine like this is the new life he'd always wanted.

It's somehow managed to get even colder in their absence, but that's slowly starting to change as it's getting back to being more lived in again. He'd checked in with Foggy after they'd returned, more as a courtesy than anything else because he didn't want to talk about his outburst, but for better or worse Matt's tried to go back to his isolationist lifestyle.

So there might have been a kernel of truth in saying that he was just slightly reluctant when Foggy had said something about meeting up. Matt had offered to go to the inn anyway, but instead he's making coffee a few minutes before Foggy's slated to arrive. Thankfully his device can tell him the time or he wouldn't be able to keep any semblance of a schedule here.

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Foggy's been researching.

He's heard stories and that sent him to the records and he's trawled them in the way that only legal student learn to, mining information and hints of suggestions.

Which led to this.

He makes his way to Matt's place, knocking firmly. "I have amazing news, Matt, and I'm coming in unless you've locked this." Which he proves by attempting to open the door.

"It's unlocked," he calls out partly over his shoulder, knowing that it'd be unfeasible for him to take the time to get to the door, and by the time he gets back to the kitchen he'll have to reorient himself to make the coffee.

"I'm just in the kitchen," he adds once he hears the door shut. The coffee part should be fairly obvious; the whole place smells like it.

"If I promise to do the house work, think I could live with the coffee here?" He misses coffee. He misses caffeine, and sugar and deep fried doughnuts. He misses whiskey.

"Anyway, we can have coffee, then we're going out. I made a world changing discovery. Well, maybe world changing, for you. Or at least, independence changing. I've been doing research about this powers stuff here and the band colours and the fact there's a powers vending machine, Matt."

Foggy finally enters the kitchen, footsteps heavy to make it clear where he is. "Super. Powers. Vending. Machine."

Yeah Matt could do with a Pad Thai or a Tikka Masala too (delivered to his door even) but it doesn't feel right of him to complain when he's got other blessings here. Ideally he'd have a house where all the people who are important to him could get along with each other, if not at least co-exist peacefully. But he'll settle for the way he currently splits his time.

"I heard there was something in the bunker, but." He presses his lips into a thin, flat line and gives Foggy a small shrug. But he'd been in a panic when he first dredged himself out of that ghastly fountain and none of what the people who had helped him told him really sank in. But it sounded too good to be true. But there's no such thing as super powers, only great responsibilities. But he doesn't have anything to put in the vending machine. And the list of excuses goes on.

"Have you seen it yet?"

Elektra and Foggy are actually getting on a lot better, especially now that she's not feeling a need to test his moral fiber.

"Seen? No. Matt, it's me, I'm lazy, I'm not going all the way there, just to come back and get you and go out there again. Pff." Foggy makes himself comfortable in the kitchen. "I'm already getting worryingly fit with all this 'physical work' and 'eating healthy' that I have to do here. So we're going to go down there and see if we can get you some kind of enhanced senses thing to compensate for your blindness, like you have back home."

That gets a laugh out of Matt at least. He nods a couple of times as he sets the coffee down in front of Foggy.

"It's not worrying if you're eating and sleeping better," he chides softly as he brings his own cup of coffee to his lips.

"We'll go after these coffees. I'm... not sure about all this but I'm willing to give it a try."

"I didn't say I was sleeping better. I said I was getting fitter and eating healthier and I resent a lack of doughnuts in my life, Matt. I miss doughnuts."

He takes the coffee and sips, sighing at the tingle of heat. "I don't know if it'll work. I don't know if it's real. But it's worth a shot, right?"

He has to catch himself from saying anything about how Marci feels about his doughnuts lifestyle, and instead Matt just tries to laugh it off.

"I'm just thinking you would if you adopted this healthier lifestyle. And you know, I just think. We've spent time talking to people who have put their life savings into these 'get rich quick' schemes. I'm just- don't want to get my hopes up for what might be another scam."

Foggy snorts slightly, because he probably is sleeping better, on the whole, but the nightmares haven't stopped and instead have different dimensions since coming here. "I guess I sleep better in a way. But it's so quiet here and noisy in the weirdest ways."

Matt's awkward laugh is clear, but Foggy's not quite sure what it's about. So he lets it pass by. "This place is pure insanity. I'm going to say, it's good to have some hope or optimism, that doesn't mean pinning everything on it. There's a middle ground. Lots of it. Come, occupy some of that middle ground with me, Matt."

Matt can't say he relates very well. It's just been quiet. He's gone from not knowing what silence means for two and a half decades to lying awake with his eyes open in the dead of night straining to hear something. Anything. On the nights he's lucky there's cicadas and snoring, but that's not every night.

"You seem very optimistic these days," Matt observes with what might be considered a bit of a smug look on his face. No, he's not accusing the counselor of anything.

"Matt, I've always been optimistic. And if I don't keep pushing myself to see the bright side and keep being hopeful, I'm going to start screaming and never stop and then I'll get slapped a lot and I have a very low pain threshold."

It was pure nonsense, the whole lot. And completely serious at once, but Foggy was relying on the nonsense.

"Anyway, are you suggesting something? Matthew?"

"I don't know Foggy, you're the toughest guy I know." He's been through a lot, he'd been willing to push hard where angels feared to tread, and he's come through time and time again in situations no one should ever have to be put in. He simply didn't give himself enough credit.

"I would never," Matt proclaims his innocence before bringing his coffee back up to his lips. "Let's just finish our drinks and go." Before any objections are heard or complaints about misconduct filed.

"Pff. I cry when I get splinters and paper cuts. I'm still bitching and whining about aches in my scars like they haven't healed up months ago with actual medical attention." He pats his side, where the shrapnel had hit him. And where he used to have more padding.

"I don't know how you are simultaneously so terrible at lying and so good at it. It's like, this universe imploding contradiction." He turns back to the coffee though, since it is so good.

"Would it help if I said I cry when I get paper cuts too?" He doesn't. Or maybe he does. It's hard to tell when he's pretending to be Batman all the time.

"Is it still aching?" Somehow Matt manages to still feel guilty about that even though he'd probably do the same thing out of instinct if they were ever put in that situation again. And, you know. It wasn't his fault people decided to shoot at them. Not that time, anyway.

"I've been told it's the lack of glasses. I don't know what my eyes are doing and apparently they're a dead giveaway."

"I've seen you cry plenty buddy, and it's nearly always because of emotional pain, not physical. And this? Nah. Gimme your hand."

He takes Matt's hand, guiding him to feel the slightly raised skin where Mrs Cardenas' wall had exploded into him. "All healed up. And it's not the lack of glasses, you're a terrible liar with glasses. You can keep secrets, but you're shit at lying."

He'd already cried all that out a long time ago. All that's left is what other people or just life can keep taking from him. And it just so happens that no matter how hard he tries, they can just keep taking, and taking, and taking.

Fingertips warmed up by touching coffee move up along the scar and his touch lingers for a while before he pulls his hand away.

"I'll have you know I'm a 'scumbag bottom-feeding' lawyer par excellence. Lying professionally is apparently what we do for a living."

"I can lie, buddy. You can't. You obfuscate sometimes. You definitely don't say things you should. Lying... eh."

He tucks his layers back in. "And like, the last big case you did that I know of, you represented a recently disabled boy to get the settlement he deserved and needed and you did it completely pro bono, so... shut your face about being a scumbag?" He keeps hold of Matt's hand for a long moment, feeling his knuckles. "I took first aid classes, you know. In case... yeah."

As unethical as it might be to be selective about taking on board only clients who are innocent, who need justice, it makes Matt's job a lot easier when he knows people he represents are telling the truth. He doesn't lie in court, contrary to popular belief. He saves it for the 'what were you doing last night' questions whenever he shows up with another band-aid or another ugly bruise he can't hide under his suit.

"Oh." In case. Right. Well, he doesn't have to worry about that anymore. Matt's hand twitches in Foggy's gentle grip and the smile comes very delayed as he tries to figure out what to say.

"...that'll come in handy here."

"It doesn't, at all, but... I wanted you to know that I did that. I wanted to be able to help you if you needed it." If his actual backup had fallen through in some way.

Then the Castle trial happened.

Then Midland Circle happened.

He lets Matt's hand go and drains his coffee. "We should start making a move while the coffee's warming and the caffeine's still hitting."

"Yeah. Sure." Walking seems better than sitting here talking about all that stuff. Matt finishes what's left of his coffee and makes his way out of the kitchen, a little faster and more sure that the path is clear of obstacles than the last time Foggy was here, and picks up his scarf and jacket on the way towards the front door.

"That means I can still call you if I walk into the white picket fence, right?"

"I have no idea if you mean literally or metaphorically, but sure, you can call me if you walk into the white picket fence." He follows along, double checking they have the stuff they need and then putting himself where Matt can find and grab his elbow easily.

"So this might be a bit of a trip. I believe there's a boat involved."

He means both, but he can't tell if the fence outside is actually a white picket fence. He only knows it's not barbed wire or anything, he's tripped over enough things to figure out the house is fairly... suburban and dated in its design.

"A boat?" That's bringing up unpleasant memories of flailing around in the fountain. "I haven't tried rowing blind yet." It could be fun. Or it could be very, very cold when it tips over.

"You won't be, look, just trust me to get you there and then when you try this vending thing, you can either get a trip back for free as commiseration or pull your own weight because you're on top of the world. Okay?" He tucks Matt's hand into his elbow. "We're going to have to walk to the North Village first, but we can always take a break to visit the unicorns up there, I'm sure Bobo won't mind."

"Alright." Matt still has his hangups, though he's not going to voice any of them as they start northbound. It's cold inside the house but even worse outside, but if nothing else it keeps them moving in as brisk of a pace they can manage.

"I can't even tell if you're joking or not anymore," Matt muses with a small smile. He meant to say 'lying' but he has come to realise that that is how the rest of the world lives, and he doesn't have a right to complain about that.

"With this place, totally understand feeling that way. Technically they're called 'kirin' but they're unicorns. Totally unicorns." He sets a brisk pace, they both can take it and it's cold, walking is one of the few ways to stay warm outside.

"Guy I work with in the butchers' shop, he lives up North with a couple of wild west gunslingers. They're putting together a small menagerie of animals. They have the kirin, a little fire salamander living in the fireplace, a bunch of chicks and something called a gruffalo? Something like that. It's going to get hude, but right now, it's just all legs and fuzz and nubby horns. It's ridiculous."

This is fairly normal for a conversation around these parts. Unicorns, gunslingers, salamanders and gruffalos. Matt already has a warped conception of what some things are, based on feel and smell rather than sight, but throwing them all together just makes for a nebulous mix of beasts and cowboy hats inside his head.

"Sounds like a... extreme kind of petting zoo for the adventurous," Matt points out with a small laugh. "You've been visiting them often?"

It's not an incorrect mental picture...

"Nah, not really. It's all very peaceful and soft, except the salamander, which is not slimy, because it lives in fireplaces, but it is soft to touch, just not fuzzy." Like one time he touched a snake at the zoo, but no scales.

"A few times. I brought animals down from up here when everyone was up the mountain. We took them to the South, just to make looking after them easier. And sometimes I come up to check on Bobo if he hasn't been down to the shop in a bit. Or to help Joshua with his literacy."

Reliant on Foggy to steer, Matt mostly stays behind him, listening to the sound of his footsteps and pacing himself just a little bit slower. He can't really picture all these creatures in his head, but he's pretty sure what he's imagining is far more fierce and fearsome than what really amounts to Foggy and some kind of farmstay.

"When Elektra had first explained it to me, I wasn't sure getting used to village life would end up being... like this."

Foggy keeps them on a clear path with the least snow, mostly even footing. He lets Matt set the pace, shortening his stride slightly as needed.

"Which part of 'this'? The random kidnappings? The fantastical and horrifying creatures? The limited food range?"

Well, obviously all of it, but if he had to pick one, the limited food range bothers him more than he believes it should. Nothing makes him feel like a spoilt city boy more than pining for a half decent curry.

“I’m not sure random kidnappings and strange creatures are part of the ‘move out into the country’ ads. I can’t taste anything anymore,” which is actually not true; Matt just doesn’t realise how much normal tastebuds are lacking in terms of sensitivity to flavours. “I don’t want to complain about the food, but it does make me think about New York.” Food and. Daredevil. He’ll likely never shake missing being able to do something that made him feel so liberated even if he didn’t like what Daredevil actually physically does every night.

"The food here is decidedly average," Foggy agrees. "I think I've missed Miss Hoi An's Vietnamese more than I miss nearly anything else to eat. Even donuts. And bagels. Oh, or those burgers, from the place near Columbia, that one that you said was a health hazard?"

He sighs. "I've stopped loving food here. It's fuel. It sucks. I want processed fats and sugars."

Trudging through the snow, Matt can't help but crack a small, sad smile. Yes, he misses the Vietnamese too even if he mostly lived on Pad Thais and Lemongrass Chicken. The pull about burgers near Columbia wasn't the 'special seasoning' though. It was Columbia, all those years ago, and how simple life had been back then for the both of them.

"This is supposed to be good for you," Matt protests even though his voice sounds a little distant now. How did things get so complicated after graduation?

"But, you know. Maybe figuring out how to make fresh spring rolls and a decent pho will make you mayor of the village."

"I don't want to be mayor. Not of there, or here, or anywhere." He sighs softly, because when he first started making this walk, he used to get a bit breathless and now he finds it almost easy.

"And I think I'll get in trouble if I wander around in the jungle randomly eating things to see what they taste like. Trouble on so many different levels, like, the hazards of doing that, the hazards of being out there, the hazards of what Anne would do to me... Nuh-uh. Maybe if we find someone insane and suicidal and not you. You are not to get any ideas, Matthew Murdock."

"I wouldn't recommend eating everything you see. The healthcare here isn't exactly state of the art." Not that they could afford any healthcare back in New York either. "Besides, you're right. What would Anne think?"

Matt, shit stirrer par excellence, going to be ribbing Foggy for weeks (maybe months) over Anne? Perish the thought.

Foggy didn't have to worry about him. While he's on his own during lunch at the inn, Elektra watches over him like a hawk. If he starts chewing on something he's not supposed to she could be counted on to swat him on the nose with a roll of newspaper.

"It's not what she thinks that worries me. It's what she'd do. I only just gained partial custody of her cat, she might start asking someone else to look after him and then how would I keep my bed warm? Don't answer that." Because he knows what Matt is about to suggest.

"Honestly, the healthcare here and the healthcare we had anyway are pretty much the same... Though, admittedly, I had actual healthcare through Hogarth, Chao and Benowitz."

Edited 2019-03-03 07:45 (UTC)

Matt's lips part to suggest something but they shut again when Foggy cuts him off. How rude. It's not like he'd have said anything perverse.

"You were doing good there," Matt says with a tight-lipped smile. "It suited you."

"Did it?" He's not sure what that says about him, that it suited him to be in with the crowd there, sharp suits and smiles and too many zeroes to fathom attached to the invoices they sent. "Being able to pay rent was nice. And suits. Nice suits. Ones that felt nice and fit right. And not bottom shelf whiskey."

But he was never sure if he was really doing any good. He was more sure of who he was and should be with Matt. Once. "Hey Matt? I'm sorry that I ever made you feel that you couldn't be you, the real you, with me. And that I took it so badly when I found out. I was hurt and I took it out on you and I'm sorry. I should've been more supportive."

"It's not that. It's- achieving things you never could in a small neighbourhood firm." The schmoozing is a necessary evil, if it could be called that.

"You don't need to apologise." The... real him thing is needlessly complicated, in part due to Matt's unwillingness to reconcile the duality that is Daredevil and Murdock. "I never did what I did to upset or please anyone. It just- felt like the right thing to do." Even if, in the end. He's paid far too hefty of a price for it.

"It was my calling. It still is. I just- need to figure out how to do it, like this. How to make things work, for everyone. For us."

"No, I do. I was hurt, so I lashed out at you to make you hurt like I was." Foggy tries to be an adult about himself, not give in to excuses. "And I am sorry that I did that to you. I know it was never done to hurt me."

The fact is, Matt does what Matt thinks he should with little consideration of anyone outside Elektra or his fight these days. Accepting that has been both heart breaking and liberating. "It's fine, Matt. You are who you are. One day, maybe I'll know that guy. In the mean time, I'm here to try and start putting things together. Including walking you to a super powers vending machine in an abandoned bunker in the giant experiment that is this place." He pats Matt's hand on his elbow.

Technically he'd only have to do this once, if this machine actually did what it purportedly did, and Matt could always make his own way back if he needed another... can of enhanced senses pringles.

"How does it even work?" Matt has to wonder. "I haven't- I don't even have any money." It's not like many places were hiring and he couldn't do 90% of the jobs out there.

"No idea," Foggy replied, cheerful. "There's no money here at all, it's sort of... communist ideal, because everyone's too busy trying to survive day to day. I figure we'll get there and push some buttons and if that doesn't work, we'll try the thing that made the vending machine on our floor give up reese's cups for free."

Yeah, he's not sure if simulating an earthquake around the machine is going to help, but it's worth a shot if all else fails. It's not like there's a lot of technology around here that works anyway.

"Thanks for doing this, for me. Although I'm sure you'd want to try some of the options too." The idea that you could just pick and choose what you wanted is... well. Sounded too good to be true.

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Nelson & Murdock

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