I can't imagine. I've had injuries but my spine has been relatively okay by comparison. Fucked up my pelvis something fierce when the building fell on me, a lot of broken bones and thought I was losing my hearing. That last one was my nightmare scenario.
Strangely, this might end up being the opposite of a self destructive stunt. He might be proud of you.
I know I should. The problem has always been the explanation. I got sliced to shit by a ninja a long time ago and even ten years on, the scars are still there. I can't explain that to a normal doctor. There's no surgical uniformity to them that might come from medical procedures and "fell in a woodchipper" seems like it'd prompt questions.
You need to find a way to come here at least once. I can even arrange the wedding to happen in New York but you need to meet Alfred, and Leslie - the doctor - so you can find someone closer to you to handle emergency medical scenarios and keep their mouth shut. Anything too dire, we can transport you but there's a lot of room between what you can handle yourself and 'you need surgery and an MRI'.
He will probably ultimately be proud of me and happy about it. He'll just need to see and hear that first hand. Fortunately, it's Superman. Knee jerk responses aren't typical for him. And you can probably work in teaching him a thing or two about grounding his senses at some point.
It's not that far from New York so I can manage that with a little time to figure out train schedules. I hate flying because of the pressure changes on my hearing so I tend to avoid that where possible. I feel some measure of guilt when I'm not out at night but I recognize that there are times when I can't be and I can accept that so I can travel. This is usually the part where I say I'm fine and say I have an order of nuns who can take care of me discretely but I recognize that doesn't carry a lot of weight.
That's understandable. It's kind of a big bomb to drop on someone as a surprise. I've never had to teach anyone that part before. The guy who taught me was an asshole so at least I know I'll be nicer about it.
It carries plenty of weight. It's not enough and there are gaps that I'd like to fill to the best of my ability and that you'll allow, but it's not without weight. Most of my basic medical care comes from a retired special services butler or myself. I just also have someone who can prescribe antibiotics and has hospital privileges. That's something I'd like to work out for you if I can.
We're still both going to end up bleeding to death in a gutter - if we're lucky.
He just needs some guidance in finding something that's not relying on me or his parents.
The issue was primarily a need for anonymity rather than my self destructive tendencies and not having a good lie for strangers. I can only be 'mugged' so many times or fall down so many stairs before the stories stop adding up. A friend once worried the bruises was a sex thing and even that fell apart pretty fast when the real injuries piled on. Accepting help isn't my strongest suit but I'll do my best not to bitch too much about it and take what's being offered. For the minor things, I'll retreat to my overstocked first aid kit and do my own stitches but if it's more, I'll allow it.
I always assumed it'd be in a dumpster for me. A gutter is probably a step up in the world.
I understand that. I don't know where I'd be if I had to figure out all of this on my own.
The good news is, doing your own stitches is so standard for me that even my occasionally overbearing ass isn't likely to protest. As for explanations, I've had good luck with both sex and extreme sports as an explanation - and both are true enough, and solidify my reputation.
Make-up also helps but that would be a rough one for you to pull off.
I also like to think I do good work. Straight stitches, clean. So there's that. Yeah, you can get away with the extreme sports explanation. That doesn't so much work for me; no one's going to buy that I went skydiving for the view. I can see how that would lend well to a playboy reputation though.
Yeah, that's one of those things I can't manage. People do tend to look the other way with injuries that they attribute to disability but after a while, even the innate desire of people to not be perceived as rude stops working.
If your work that's good, you should start doing my stitches. [ That's a joke. His are messy, Alfred's are messy. His because he doesn't care and can't always reach. Alfred's because Bruce is impatient and cranky about it.]
The reasons are mostly skiing and rock climbing - sky diving I stay away from. Batman's too known for heights and dropping from them.
If I get a reputation for abusing you, I'm going to be annoyed.
My dad taught me when I was a kid. When it was just him and me, he needed someone to do it because hospitals were too much money and we didn't have it. I had a lot of practice on his brows and face, which necessitates straight and as small as necessary to close the wound. He could take a punch but he paid for it.
That's a good call.
If you mean in the public eye, I'm not well known so I can just start a brand new cycle of excuses since they'll appear fresh. Also, I presume that if I'm 'mugged' then there's some way to use that. The people who were once most concerned about my bruises either know now or are dead. I think Kirsten just believes I'm in a blind underground fight club.
I'd claim I don't remember when I learned, but the nearest thing I have to a 'super power' or enhancement is my memory. I was 15 in London and actually was mugged and didn't care much then, either.
I mean the public. No one who knows either of us would believe it privately - and if they do, I have bigger problems than the press. We can use you being an apparent victim of crime very well, I think.
I've never had to float a lie to the greater public about why I have a bruise on my jaw so starting from scratch on the revolving wheel of excuses will work fine. As much as it annoys me, I recognize that I make a convenient 'victim' for those sorts of narratives if I choose to lean in.
I 'ran away' from Gotham at 14. I reappeared at 20, picked up the cowl and adopted Dick the same year at 20.
I don't like the victim narrative any more than I like pretending to be an oversexed, reckless drunk, but when the narrative is convenient it's worth keeping. Especially when it's mostly false.
And I presume all of this training happened when you were gone? I started when I was nine.
It annoys me more as part of the perception of disability but I also recognize all the ways that I use that to my advantage, so it does often feel like talking out of both sides of my mouth to complain about it. It's what it is, but sometimes it's trying to go through life having to pretend to be something you're not. As I'm sure you well know.
In any event, I'm going to start dropping the "oh, I can't make plans, I've been talking to someone" on people in the office. No names yet. Building the story. How should I say we met?
Then you're working with at least as much experience as I am, and with less support. Though I was doing a lot of martial arts from seven, in an attempt to impose some control on me and give me an acceptable outlet. I was a terrible child.
That's a good question. Where would our public lives intersect? Where does your public persona go besides work and court?
I know a thing or two about being a terrible child. I have the five year running record for Hail Mary's at St. Agnes orphanage and a discipline file that's an entertaining as hell read. Lots of fights I didn't start but that I finished on the playground.
I don't have much of a public persona in that way. I go to a local dive bar if I'm not doing the other things in my life and I can't imagine that you and I would meet there. You don't seem the type to appreciate a place where your shoes kind of stick to the floor when you take a step. But that makes me a more malleable quantity in this story. You're probably better with the sort of public storytelling. I just try cases and sometimes give quotes to the press.
Definitively finishing fights I didn't start was part of my issue. The rest was more... variable.
I actually prefer that kind of bar, but not as my public face. Let's just say I was on a business trip and ran into you at a coffee shop. "Brucie" is aggressive enough in pursuit of a pretty face that all he has to do is have seen you.
Such as? Petty vandalism? High crimes and misdemeanors? What are we talking here?
That works for me. I stop at a coffee shop near the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse every time I'm in court. That's lower Manhattan so I'm sure there's plenty of good reason why you could have business in the area. Please tell me I don't have to call you that and did you just refer to me as a pretty face?
Hair trigger temper and violent outbursts. Apathy. Defiance. Completely disrupted sleep that became Alfred's disrupted sleep. Property destruction and sometimes self-destructive, albeit scaled for a child.
If you ever call me Brucie, I'm going to be... upset. [ He hates it, thanks.] It's a way I can distinguish the persona from me, at least loosely, but I hate it. And I'd like to think we're building some kind friendship and solid working relationship.
Reasons to have been there are easy to come up with. Yes, I referred to you as pretty. You're not actually far off my type, known and otherwise, anyway.
Trauma does all kinds of things to us. I don't know if what you do now falls into those loose categories but at least it seems a hell of a lot more focused and useful. At least that's how it is for me.
I would never, thank you very much. That cutesy shit is...not for me. Similarly, only my dad, Stick and my priest ever got to call me Matty, so none of that. Matthew or Matt is fine. I like to think we're well on our way to that.
I drink black coffee with three sugars, by the way. If that were to come up. Real sugar; I can tell that fake shit and it tastes like chemicals to me. See, you've got me at a disadvantage still since we're not in person yet, but I appreciate the compliment all the same.
No, they don't. Everyone that I've met in this whole world has been just different brands of trauma in different packaging. My ex girlfriend the therapist always dropped that Faulkner quote about how the past is never dead, it's not even the past.
Yeah, you seem the type. Sweetheart is fine. I can handle sweetheart. That's usually my default endearment as well.
Alright. I imagine I'll be done reasonably early as long as my client shuts the hell up for once.
Oh, I'm rude. I'll interrupt if I have to. You can decide if you want an impatient call or impatient, large man in expensive shoes in your office.
Faulker seems like a good person to quote at you. “Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed.”
I think I'll go with the impatient, large man in good shoes but you have to tell me what the receptionist's expression is when it happens.
I was always partial to "Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools." I think she dropped the other line on me because she picked it up in a shrink book, though, to be fair.
Oh, I'm sure it will be. My love life seems to be a favorite topic in the office so I'm certain the whispers will be good listening.
One of Kirsten's attempts at getting me back to living some semblance of a life. When my ex started wanting to write about the vigilantes in the city and the literal and figurative masks...yeah.
I like that one.
I'm looking forward to it. Thank you. I'm hoping it's a win for the 'little guy.'
What I got in an attempt to get me back into living was 'then wake up and show this city who you are'. Less romantic, but it also came from Alfred so equally fitting.
I'll try to make sure it's a show worth listening in on -- and bring flowers.
I would love that. Feel free to just keep the thread going if you don't want to make a new one
"Noted" is the sum total of his reply back. Mostly because he has to make arrangements for Gotham coverage tomorrow night and get on top of the lingering business of Wayne Enterprises and make travel arrangements.
He gets to Matt's office a touch early. Tailored suit, but no tie and first few collars of his dress shirt undone. Italian leather shoes, and the jasmine and lily floral arrangement he had custom ordered and picked up on the way. The early is intentional. It gives him a solid reason to be impatient and put on a bit of a show.
He sits, asks periodically if Matt's done yet and when he'll be done and flashes around a thousand watt smile. Tells the story of meeting Matt at the coffee shop and how much he admires his work as a lawyer and how intelligent he must be.
He's mentally flagging slightly in the ten minutes or so it takes before the work day is actually done. It doesn't show but lord that routine is more tiring than any amount of Batman.
Matt smells the flowers first. Lillies, in particular, are strong and cut through the din of all of the other inputs of his senses. Then it's the scent of leather and a good cologne. Purposeful steps that are neither heavy nor light by some measure of comparison. While he half-listens to the conversation happening around him between Kirsten and their current client, his real interest is in what's happening outside the glass of the conference room. Matt puts on a good image of someone paying attention with his hands steepled in front of him but he's already figured out how he wants to play this with the client. The guy just needs to shut the hell up already and let them work.
Finally, Matt rises to his feet and extends his hand, slightly off center, for their client to shake while they say their departing remarks. That's when Kirsten notices someone is waiting for him and the administrative assistant can finally poke her head into the room to announce that Bruce Wayne is waiting for Matt.
Showtime.
Matt picks up his cane and heads out of the conference room with a smooth, easy smile. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting." He makes quick assessments. Ones that maybe he'll tell Bruce about sometime but he picks up a lot in the split seconds of standing across from one another for the first time. Size and build. The way he holds himself as he stands in confidence. It all paints a picture.
Bruce will be interested in seeing what kind of impression Matt gets from him, both because he's just plain curious, and because it will tell him more about how Matt 'works'. He'll also be interested in seeing how, or if, that general perception changes when Bruce isn't playing this role.
He's more loose limbed, 'unconsciously' graceful than he would be in the cowl or even just moving around the Manor.
He sticks to that while he moves to meet Matt half way, and flashes a smile that's just a bit pained. "Maybe a little, but it was worth it." He puts a hand on Matt's shoulder and gives it a squeeze, then pulls back and offers the flowers. "These are for you."
Sometimes there's an extra effort in a movement that he can pick up. It's a stilted hesitation before doing it, like it's something that the person in motion has to think about. He thinks he gets some of that with Bruce because there's an aspect of playing a part here. They're in polite company, with the office administrator nearby and Kirsten lingering in the doorway of the conference room. The glass door would hide nothing anyway but she's never been subtle. Matt decides that the right play here is not to do introductions; in any normal circumstance, he'd want to whisk away a partner from his partner's interrogation long before it happens so doing that is in line with expectations.
Still, he smiles brightly at the flowers that are put into his hands. "They smell wonderful. Thank you." He turns his attention to the administrator and politely asks her to put them in water and on his desk, if it's not too much trouble.
"We should get going. We don't want to be late." A good excuse for a discrete exit is made and he folds his cane to instead hook his arm with Bruce's to allow him to lead the way from the office.
He waits for Matt to handle the flowers and on Matt to lead - or rather provide a lead on handling the exit, and relaxes very, very slightly when it's given to him. Bruce is playing a role, but he's also trying to be at least somewhat considerate of Matt. that means letting him make decisions on introductions, interactions, and most importantly on how they get out.
The hand on his arm is a cue, but he flashes another smile and even waves around Matt to Kirsten in the doorway. "Yes, we'll be late for our reservation." For probably pizza and holding up in Matt's apartment, but that's neither here nor there.
There's still some difference in how he moves when he leads the way out the way he came, but what there isn't is an excessive amount of hesitancy or caution around Matt and 'leading' him. "I think," he says, once out of easy hearing range, "Your receptionist was suitably... surprised at having to deal with my unexpected presence."
All and all, it feels like a successful soft launch of this whole thing to the people in his life. Kirsten will be stalking him at the door tomorrow morning when he comes into the office with a demand for answers that he'll offer in rehearsed stories and faint lies that they've started to establish.
They need a chance to figure out a little more of this before they make a real public entrance but that's what this is for. Feigning physical intimacy is a strangely difficult thing and if they were perfect strangers going into Matt's stupid award ceremony, it'd look stiff and wooden. That doesn't sell papers and tabloid stories.
So far, it feels fairly natural, all told. Bruce is bigger than him by a considerable margin so he knows what he meant now about how their styles would be different. "Yeah, I heard her heartbeat get fast. Especially when you kept doing a time check to figure out when I would be done," he faintly smiles. "My place is a couple blocks away. Do rich people walk anywhere or do they just take limos?"
"Most of the 'elite' refuse to be on the street out of the misguided idea that they'll be robbed. Fortunately, I've managed to maintain my 'odd' habit of going in public without a guard. Though if we do this again, I'll be changing clothes."
To avoid attention - he means into jeans and boots, not into Batman. Not his city and that would be beyond wrong, even if it wouldn't be too obvious a connection to allow. n He's actually pretty okay with physical contact and casual intimacy - within this role and act and mindset. His response will be different (one way or another) in private. "But you'll need to lead the way to the apartment - and find a number for pizza delivery once we're there."
"No one looks twice at a suit and tie in this part of the city. Once we get down to the ground level of the building, you'll see a lot of it on this side of town," Matt explains with a shrug. His suit, a dark grey knit special right off the rack from a Nordstrom sale section, won't spark a look but he can't tell how fancy Bruce is, except that the fabric feels expensive under his fingers while they walk.
Matt has never had to maintain a public image where those things matter or anyone but a small sub-circle of friends actually care about who he's dating or what he's doing.
"I'll make it look like you're leading," he says with a grin.
Once they exit the building, Matt gives Bruce's arm a soft squeeze and a tug to the right to indicate which way to go. "And don't worry about pizza. I have menus in the 'junk' drawer by the refrigerator." He can feel the raised text that comes with the heavy ink printing that is used on those cheap pamphlets but he doesn't mention that part.
The suit's expensive. Most of what he wears is. Even the jeans and hoodie he'll change into, to go out again at some later point were 'nice' - they're just old as hell and beat half to death.
Bruce veers right when tugged, and looks up the street to see the direction they're going. "This is an area I'd choose if I wanted to pull off high profitable small scale crime," he admits. "But I don't think most would."
He'll figure out what to order - and how Matt uses a menu, maybe - when they get to the apartment. "I already have a room at a fairly expensive hotel. I'll make my exit some time before dawn. The public one, anyway. If I need to change before then I'll be more discrete in my exit and return."
"I think that's a way of saying the neighborhood is gentrified to hell, in which case I would agree with you," he says with a short laugh.
He picks up on a few double-takes. Probably not as many as they might get in Gotham but it's not as if Bruce Wayne is an entirely unknown quantity, especially for those with an interest in the gossip pages based on Matt's online searching. Good. This is already doing some of the work. Little hints dropped out in the world and breadcrumbs that a gullible press will follow.
"I might be the one who has to make a dramatic exit at some point," he answers. He has the intentions of staying in while they work on their cover story but he hears things and it's hard to ignore the world outside his window and beyond his rooftop sometimes. "I trust you to be discrete. I'm on the top floor--obviously. If that helps one way or another now or in the future."
"I'm glad to know my impressions aren't off base."
Bruce is noticing the occasional look, but there is no, even subconscious reaction to it. Not so much as a change in his heart rate or muscle tension.
"Top floor will help with discrete, both now and in the future. More in the future. I'm also prepared to be 'abandoned' if the need rises. If something comes up for me, I should be able to handle it without leaving. If I can't, you may get Superman in your living room. Fortunately, he's learned to open windows in the last decade or so." that one's fond.
They have a lot to talk about. Some of it things that haven't come up at all and have little to do with crime fighting.
"When I was growing up, this neighborhood was all of the rough Kitchen Irish families who'd been here since they got off the boat back when they were told they 'need not apply' and carved out a place. Then aliens came down and half of the neighborhood got wrecked and the developers came in to 'fix' it. Which meant rebuilding apartments without rent control no one could afford and trying to remind everyone we're supposed to call it Clinton or Midtown West," he answers before offering a faint, almost self conscious smile. That's not an unrehearsed rant, to say the least.
He notices Bruce's calm and keeps his own reaction steady. He's good at that because he's not supposed to know these things around him so he's well trained in a placid expression.
"I figured you, of all people, would understand that my schedule is sometimes filled last minute. And I do have a balcony so that might make things a little easier for him if he does." But Matt hopes there isn't an emergency on either of their parts. Outside of the constant fleeting hope that maybe the world will be quiet for a while, they have a lot to figure out. He gives Bruce's arm a soft squeeze again with a draw to a left turn. "We go three blocks down this way and it's the building on the right at the end of the block. Can't miss it."
"I've always lived outside Gotham, among the sprawling estates owned by the same families for generations. They're very much Ivory Towers by design. Even my father couldn't stand that part, even while he couldn't quite bring himself to live anywhere else."
There's no change in his pace or the cadence of it, but once he's sure of where he's going the motion itself becomes more... fluid. What he thinks, but does not say, is that he understands last minute interruptions, but also that sometimes you're just so damn tired that they ... hit harder than others. Even if they're not interrupting anything important and the tired is mostly not physical.
"A golden cage is still a cage, so I'm told," he answers with a faint shrug of his shoulders. A sprawling estate on its surface sounds lovely but it doesn't feel like Bruce thinks so. Not from his tone or the way he speaks of it.
Playing that part seems like it would be just as exhausting as the one that Matt himself performs every day. Illusions and deceptions for what is expected.
"Is it strange to say that I love Hell's Kitchen? I still do. Despite everything. There's never anywhere that's going to feel like home. That's why it's important to do what I can to help." On the surface, he could just as easily be speaking of his work as a lawyer. Helping around the neighborhood and lending assistance to the people he grew up around. They both know what it really means. Even if he stops sometimes because he gets broken down, bone deep tired from what it takes and what it has cost him, he comes back to the Kitchen. Every single time.
He keeps his head forward while they walk. "Directly behind you, maybe forty feet, someone snapped your picture. Quick gait, trying to keep up and still keep distance." He could hear the click of the lens.
"It was meant to be social commentary on the wealthy, not personal complaint," Bruce says, with a faint smile that warms his voice just a touch. "Much of the Manor is very... public space, and my attachment to it is more as a legacy than a home, but that would be true no matter what sort of place it was."
Probably. He is very attached to the City. Gotham is his. Wayne Manor is something he is the inheritor and...caretaker of, in a sense. His father and mother's that he happens to live in.
"It's very similar to my relationship with the family fortune, actually." Similar sort of thing. Use it well, keep the companies and businesses intact, grow them where he can, but they don't feel like this. "It is no more strange to love Hell's Kitchen than it is to live Gotham. It might even be less strange, since you live there." He has no problem with any of that being overheard, if it is, though.
"Thank you. Hopefully someone will appear in front of us so they get a picture that's not largely composed of my ass - however good it looks in these pants."
"Legacy is a strange thing to have to contend with," he answers, though he thinks they have very different histories and points of reference for that sort of thing. Matt's own is his memory of his father more than anything tangible like land and property but sometimes the immaterial is just as difficult to sort through.
Hell's Kitchen belongs to the Devil, if the papers are to be believed and in some way, maybe Matt internalizes that too. He has a stewardship over it that would be difficult to explain to most people but not, seemingly, to Bruce.
"Sometimes places are just in your blood. You can try to change the scenery but we are who we are," he replies with a faint tilt of his head toward Bruce. "Your ass might have to contend with mine for space on the tabloid cover. But when we get to my door, it's a buzzer system so we can stop at it and pause. Have a moment that they can take a good shot of." A little canoodling on the stoop of the apartment building seems like it might make a decent enough photograph for a tabloid. He can only assume Bruce Wayne was followed at a distance from when he arrived in the city by one zealous photographer since paparazzi are a rare thing in the neighborhood.
"Legacy will always be complicated." It's barely a murmur, because... physical or not, money or ethics or both, it simply is. He is more than intelligent enough to delve deeply into the topic, find the points of commonality and differences between the two of them.
But he's also just intelligent enough to not do that, at least right now.
"The amount of speculation about our respective asses that is likely to hit the papers is enough to almost make even me uncomfortable." Almost is relative. He does not care at all. He is slightly concerned about Matt, but. "If you want to give them a brief show, we can certainly do that. Just poke me if I'm taking it further than you want it taken."
Matt doesn't push the issue. It's not really his place to comment on the legacy of a wealthy family in Gotham any more than it would be Bruce's to comment on the one left by a broken down boxer to the son he wished wouldn't have to grow up to use his fists to fight. Funny how things work out.
He quietly scoffs at the remark and shakes his head. "Oh, I'm sure." The idea of scrutiny, even if it's built on a lie and half truth is still strange. Daredevil gets splashed across websites and youtube. Matt Murdock gets mentioned when he happens to associate with a case that matters but, like everything in the city, it's a glimmer of attention before it fades to the next big story. He's setting himself up to be part of a ruse that lingers longer than the public's care about a trial.
"I'm sure I'll let you know." It didn't feel like it'd have to be a huge presentation of public affection. As long as it wouldn't be construed as 'just friends' then it would be enough.
"I may be projecting," he says, tone very dry, "or paranoid." There's some humor in that, and in time he will trust communication to happen - without the 'stop' signaling being his nose getting broken.
Meanwhile he's not planning a make-out session on the building door, but fair warning and a method of stop determined between them just seems like the smart thing to do.
Meanwhile he slips his arm from Matt's hand, trails his fingers down to Matt's hand and weaves their fingers together. Still functional (to observers) but much less platonic and more obvious. especially staying as close as he is to the other man. "We'll be there soon."
He'll pretend he's not making a list of shit they need to cover, meanwhile.
A squeeze or a sound too soft to be heard by any interloper would be sufficient, he thinks, and Matt doesn't expect that he will ever have to escalate to the level of nose-breaking. In the world as Matt Murdock, he's good at tempering himself and his instincts in general anyway and Bruce doesn't seem like the type to flout that sort of thing without reason.
He tilts his head in Bruce's direction to offer a smile when he takes his hand; it offers a profile photograph, he figures, and he's been told that he's got a pretty good smile so he thinks it will add another piece to the puzzle. Sure enough, there's a couple of fast clicks of the camera. For an amateur, he thinks he's got pretty good instincts so far as to what presenting this brand of image to the world means.
They still have a lot to figure out. Stories to rehearse and lies to form so that they know they're telling the same one. His usual brand of half-truths and outright fabrications is a solo effort so this is a new challenge.
The list of things they're going to talk about, by necessity, is long and covers a lot of ground. Some of the ground it covers is why Bruce's concern about getting punched in the face might be called 'projection', but that can wait.
He deliberately looks a little concerned, even paranoid, when Matt smiles and turns his head toward him, assuming that pose is for a photograph. Looking like he's not quite sneaking, but not eager for exposure immediately is a story he'd prefer.
Meanwhile they've worked out enough that when we make it to the building he presses the buzzer, but also pulls Matt in to a light kiss. On the lips, slow and soft and practiced and without letting go of their joined hands, but brief.
On the steps of his building, when he's pulled into the light kiss, he's not surprised. He lets it linger just long enough so that it doesn't appear rushed but also so that it doesn't last more than what would be expected from one of those kisses that come just because it's been too long. That's the story he thinks is sold there; a kiss that comes because they both have missed it, even if it's presumably only been the time that they've been walking since they've shared such intimacy. It's a good story.
He just gives Bruce a smile and a, "Come on," before he lets them into the building. There's an elevator that goes to the top floor where Matt's apartment is and he doesn't drop anything of the act there. There's the security camera, after all, that he can hear as an ever soft electronic whir.
On his floor, he unlocks the door and lets them in. As soon as the door is closed, Matt tosses his keys into a dish meant to hold them and just laughs. "Do you think he got a good picture?"
There isn't much of note from Bruce between the kiss and the apartment, except a very subtle air of relief (easier breathing, slightly slower pulse) when the kiss breaks and they're inside. There'd probably be more, but he often has a choke-hold on his biometrics.
That relief intensifies when they're inside the apartment. He takes his suit jacket off immediately and tosses it on the nearest piece of furniture. "I hope so. That was a lot of work, if he can't sell the pictures for a decent price. You seem to be have fun with this."
...Bruce is going off toward the kitchen and 'junk' drawer to find the take out menus. Sue him - seriously, he's loaded. He's also starving.
It's a strange thing to kiss someone without the reason being solely want. Matt can't recall that ever happening in his lifetime but there's a first time for everything and while it certainly wasn't unpleasant, there was a task to be done. He thinks they did a good job. "I'm used to portraying an image. It's just a different one. It's actually kind of fun to be pretending at something that isn't the whole, you know." Matt makes a motion to his face as indication. He folds up the cane and sets it and his glasses aside in their usual place by the door. It's still daylight but he reaches for the light switch on the wall for Bruce's benefit for later when the day dims.
He takes off his jacket, hangs it, and removes his shoes. "You seem to be making yourself at home. I'm going to change out of the button down and tie. There's water in the refrigerator. Some energy drinks. Gatorade. And protein bars in the third cupboard to the right if you can't wait for pizza," he says before padding across the apartment to the bedroom to change.
"Playing with people's perceptions can be fun. Sometimes, even for me. Right now, this counts." That wasn't the source of his relief. He'll consider explaining, and probably soon. In the moment...
Yeah, he's rude. He watches to see the direction that Matt goes, so he understands the apartment's layout better, finds a protein bar that he opens with his teeth and one hand, while grabbing a pizza delivery menu with the other.
He does at least swallow before: "What do you want on the pizza?" he asks from where he's standing and does not bother raising his voice.
He's amused enough that Bruce is already digging through his cupboards and drawers to find what he needs. It doesn't bother him; he figures that this strange arrangement is going to entwine them in each other's lives pretty significantly so he might as well share the good protein bars with him.
In the bedroom, he takes off his button-down shirt and absently pushes his hand against a bruise on his rib cage to see how far alone it is in healing. Suits hide a lot. Probably a couple of days before it fades. So it goes. He puts on a pair of black pajama bottoms and an old, faded Columbia shirt. "No olives, no peppers, no pineapple. Otherwise go nuts," he calls back, loud enough that Bruce will be able to hear him.
Once he finishes, he steps back into the living room and the open concept floor plan back to the kitchen.
"Our first argument is going to be about whether pineapple belongs on pizza." That is mostly a joke - but only mostly.
He's finishing the protein bar, leaned against Matt's counter when he comes back into the room. He looks up from the menu and tilts his head at what Matt's changed into and actually, sincerely, smiles. "That's a good look."
Suits Matt in a specific kind of way and feels very... undone and out of any sort of uniform.
"I'm not inherently opposed on principle but I'm not in the mood and it has to be a specific kind of pizza. Otherwise the flavor profiles clash," he argues as he goes to the refrigerator to retrieve a bottle of water for himself.
He flashes an easy smile in response. "A little bit of a downgrade from the sale Nordstrom suit or the really good one that's in my locked storage." There doesn't seem to a need to keep up appearances and maybe this is a decidedly softer image but it's his home and he thinks they should probably be comfortable around one another.
He flicks the cap for the water into the trash. "Did you decide?"
"It does need to be a fairly simple pizza. Ideally with a very good cheese blend and some sort of cured meat. Bacon will work, prosciutto is better."
Bruce actually is comfortable now. That's almost a surprise even to him, but the second he got into the apartment, understood the layout and exits, he's unwound in a way he rarely does. A lot of that, admittedly, is not just that he isn't performing. It's that he's not anywhere in the vicinity of any of the work he does.
"I'm ordering it with everything but olives, pineapple and peppers. You could use the calories." So could Bruce. Regardless it should taste pretty good at that point. " ...Or pickles. Those don't belong on any pizza or most food."
Matt can tell in the way that Bruce's body has relaxed a little bit since they arrived in the apartment. It makes sense. There are no prying eyes. No images to maintain and nothing that should be carrying on his shoulders at the moment except for the questions of future expectations. Those conversations haven't been particularly painful.
"Did you just call me skinny?" he asks about the remark on the calories, though it's punctuated with a smile. "I didn't even realize that pickles were an option. Truly a cursed food. I don't like much that just carries the taste of the brine it was sitting in."
"I either called you skinny, or implied you burn off the calories too fast for it to make a difference. You can pick your own interpretation."
He continues his casual lean, while dialing the number for the pizza place. "I have never liked pickles, but after experiencing a 'high end' pickle that amounted to dill pickles with an obscene amount of saffron dumped in the jar, I'm not convinced I'll ever be able to eat another one."
Then he makes the call and places the order. When he hangs up? No real.. lead in, but: "Are you dating or having sex with anyone now, and do you expect to be in the future?" What? They're ironing out some details. That's a potentially big one.
"Just because you've got--what, thirty pounds--of muscle on me doesn't mean I'm skinny," he laughs but there's something easily good natured about it. He doesn't necessarily mind the remark.
He shakes his head, "Thus proving how much of a scam high end is," he grins.
Matt isn't sure if he's surprised by the question and its directness or if he appreciates it. He snickers all the same and takes a sip of his water. "No, I am not dating or sleeping with anyone currently. I broke up with the therapist and I'm not seeing anyone. I have the expectation that the image of monogamy is somewhat central to this whole thing so I don't expect to, no. And you?"
"Good to know you'll choose the potential insult." That, too, is truly just a tease.
He pushes slowly up on Matt's counter to sit, while they wait on the pizza and talk. He's impressed at how easily Matt answered the question and got involved in asking his own. Not that he expected Matt to refuse to answer, but a snicker instead of a splutter is appreciated.
"I hope the image of monogamy unless we need a public scandal is the expectation." He's tired. He is so, so, tired. If he can drop even some of that, he can - redirect to the business and Batman. He'll still be less tired. "I'm sleeping with a couple of people, occasionally. Both have their own secret identities and occasionally is 'rare but not never'."
"Always and every time, I'll choose the argumentative side," he teases right back.
He recognizes the need for the question and frankly, he appreciates that it comes in a direct way instead of tip-toeing around one another. Sex, too, is not any kind of taboo topic for him and to be asked outright about his sexual partners or his thoughts on new ones isn't going to bother him. "You don't have to worry about me in that regard, then." He'll sell the story and the image, just as they have discussed.
"Is this your way of telling me that you're going to continue that arrangement? Because it's fine, obviously." He doesn't really think it was an ask, exactly. An FYI, perhaps. Either way, he's not pressed about it since it seems that the secret identity part will keep it from spilling over into the gossip rags.
"There are no 'of courses' for me, here." He sounds (and is) very faintly apologetic about that.
Yes, he knows who he's dealing with and that Matt will want as many details as possible ironed out. Matt may even do a better job of spotting loopholes and complications than Bruce will. He certainly won't do a worse one.
Bruce pauses to unbutton his cuffs, and starts to roll his sleeves back.
"But that's not actually what I'm telling you. To begin with, it's less arrangement and more occasional event. Frankly, I don't have all that much sex for reasons I am absolutely sure you understand and others you probably don't relate to as directly. I don't care what the outcome is, as long as we know what the lines are and it's working for us."
Matt just smiles back at that, "Noted," he replies and lets it drop.
He has a lot that he wants to iron out but he's strangely not feeling stressed about it. They've been on the same page thus far, even if they have found some minor misalignment in the slight details here and there. More than anything, he feels that he needs to know the what, how, when and why of things just so that he isn't the one who makes a mistake. Bruce's life is decidedly more public than his and it makes it harder to cover any screw-ups on Matt's part if he makes a decided misstep.
"So it's not in the dayplanner," he says with a grin. "The schedule isn't conducive to relationships, I'll grant you." As for other reasons, he's not sure and he doesn't push. It's not his business. "Don't worry. I'm not looking for monogamy out of my sham marriage." It's a bit of a tease.
The other reasons are all about 'family' - adopted or forcibly adopted into - and team. Bruce isn't exactly used to being the least isolated person in any room, but in this case he very much is.
It's strange on that level, but general concern for someone else, even in things that he accepts readily for himself? That second part is at least familiar.
Meanwhile, he has an opening and he's taking it.
"What do you want out of it? Money is a given, what specifically do you want that money directed to?"
Matt's life has grown increasingly smaller in the last year and he recognizes that about himself. His connections to the normal world were often through his friendships and without those things now, he's been adrift. He feels like he's often playing the part of himself so maybe that's why he doesn't find this arrangement particularly strange. It's just a new wrinkle in the phony image of himself that he puts on when he goes out in a suit and tie every day.
"Wilson Fisk is using the cops as his own task force. A lot of innocent people get caught up in that so beyond the necessity for good lawyers and legal resources, bail funds are usually charitable contributions. I can file suit against the city for infringement on constitutional rights and the like, but that doesn't help anyone in the here and now. I can pull together a list of places and organizations that could use funds to help people now, today. Beyond that? Money is what gets in with the Kingpin and his cronies. It gets invitations closer to where power is seated and places where I can do some damage."
It doesn't feel particularly strange to Bruce, either, although for nearly exact opposite reason. He gets to put down at least part of his act. The most annoying, exhausting, frustrating part.
"That's easily done. I'm already known for charitable giving and non-profit organization. The association with you will be more than enough reason to extend myself and finances that reason - and your reputation and work for similar things is enough reason for us to... like each other." It sounds like more of the cover story, and in a way it is. It's also accurate.
"We do need to come up with a contract to protect you. If nothing else some sort of financial payout in the event of divorce with cause. It'll provide an escape hatch and means of ensuring you're not trapped with me for the sake of your work. You also need to seriously, seriously consider how you can take advantage of the finances and tech resources for the night job."
Matt doesn't want Bruce to feel like he has to be something that he's not in the confines of his home or in the privacy that they might afford each other. They might be planning a con in a lot of ways, but it's comfortable and he likes that. Matt pulls himself up on the end of the kitchen island, letting his legs hang over casually while he sips his water.
"I do work with a lot of them already so it's an easy line to draw, even without your other associations so that shouldn't raise eyebrows as far as why they're getting an influx of money. And I think I'm pretty charming so I think we can sell this whole meeting in a coffeeshop and hitting it off based on shared interests story," he replies, flashing another easy smile. Charm and confidence are easy things to project and he can do that with anyone who might ask questions.
"A contract is a given. No lawyer worth anything is going to go into a marriage without a pre-nup, for one thing. Not having one would be its own red flag. Especially the speed at which we're moving with this--no one would believe either of us is that stupid," he answers. "Yeah. I'm thinking about that. I'm not a tech sort of guy based on the limitations of, you know, abject poverty by comparison." He's teasing again, but it's also true; he gets by and has come up in the world since starting the new firm but it doesn't mean he's got the kind of budget Batman does. "I'll give it some consideration. I like the suits I have now and find more armor to be too bulky for the kind of work I do."
"My 'associates' aren't going to bat an eyelash at any amount of money I give you, and I managed to move around my accountants to put a space station in orbit for monitoring and defense." That's dry, but it's relevant. Also: Fuck alien threats, what's happening on earth is enough.
He watches Matt settle with a faint smile. Comfortable is better, and the fact that this man is this isolated while clearly comfortable with at least some company is... sad. Bruce would be better suited to - Well, no, actually he'd spin out and already be engaging in some nasty self-destruction if his world were too small.
"My suit's gotten heavier over the years, and so has my build. Both are largely compensatory. I have to have somewhere for the servos in my pants to go." That is absolutely true and absolutely amused. "But your suit's fine. I'm thinking more security and communications. Maybe non-lethal ranged weaponry."
"Yeah, I definitely don't think I'm asking for space station money. We're talking about organizations where a hundred grand would be considered completely life changing kinds of money," he laughs. That's wild to hear but at the same time, obviously Bruce's whole life seems to be more tied to larger threats than Matt's. Daredevil never hooked up with the Avengers and he keeps his focus on the neighborhood and the city because someone has to.
He's good with people, and he likes being around them. The way that his life has become isolated is a result of loss and the depression that came with it so it actually feels kind of nice to be sitting and plotting with someone. He's done so much alone lately that even having a conversation about Daredevil and what he does has been far from the norm.
"Mine hasn't changed, really. Other than a few upgrades here and there, the cut of it is roughly the same. I'm a little bit more of a fists and club sort of fighter. I learned on both when I was a kid and I never really considered weaponry beyond that. But there are no communications or anything. So I suppose that's something to look at."
He tilts his head and pushes himself up off the counter so he can start to gather napkins and plates. That's before the door buzzer sounds to mark the arrival of the pizza.
Bruce prefers to keep his focus on Gotham - and almost cannot take his focus off. But with Clark as part of his life, that broader focus to some degree was inevitable. Maybe it's a good thing. God knows Gotham seems to be determined to die.
Bruce moves when Matt does, leaving the conversation abruptly for the moment, in order to collect (and pay for, and tip) for the pizza. With any luck, he'll be recognized there, too.
When he gets back with the (still hot) box, his first question though is: "table, couch, or floor?" Where are they eating.
He doesn't make mention of how he could smell the pizza from down the street or how he knows that the driver's last delivery was probably to the florist because he carries too many scents of fresh cut flowers with just enough faintness that he wasn't there long.
"Couch is fine. Just put it on the coffee table. That's where I usually end up," he replies. Bruce probably knows a thing or two about just being too tired to move for the sake of supposed manners and just because there's now someone else in the space, Matt doesn't feel any particular desire to try to impress by eating with any kind of real additional politeness besides doing it with his mouth closed.
He retrieves another water for himself and takes it to the couch to sit down on one side, leaving the other end or the nearby loveseat open.
Too tired to chew, too sore to move, too depressed to care. There are options; Bruce drinks a lot of his meals.
He carries the pizza toward the couch and sets it down, before grabbing the coffee table and moving it closer. Once that's there he sits down and puts the pizza box on it.
"I think at the very least I'm going to insist on some sort of built in communication to the Cave. The rest I'll leave to you, but knowing and being able to respond to serious trouble is a thing I'm going to need."
Matt reaches for the box to open it once it's on the table and plates a couple of slices for himself and then does the same for Bruce before handing the plate over to him.
"That's fine, as long as it doesn't interfere with my hearing. Feedback or static or the noise that in-ear communications create is a distraction that I can't really afford. If it goes on the fritz, that's bad for me. I trust that's probably not a challenge for you but I just want to make that note," he explains as he tucks his legs under himself in a perfectly easy and casual position on the couch.
"Besides my stupid award dinner thing, what else is on your social calendar where we can align?"
He takes the plate and takes a bite. He keeps his mouth shut until he's swallowed, because he lives half in a cave, but he wasn't raised in one.
"I wouldn't want anything in your ear." That's too far. "We can bury something elsewhere in your suit. Have its default be 'off'. I assume you wear gloves?" He's thinking now, in a direction that's actually really comfortable for him, and he even enjoys. Far more than social functions.
"My social calendar is made up almost entirely of charity events and yachts. Which would you prefer? One involves a tuxedo, and the other one involves... a boat, but fewer people."
"No, nothing in my ear." He's firm on that front. "I do wear gloves, yeah. I can show you the suit later, if you want. It might help you figure out some of the logistics of improvements." Obviously they have crossed the Rubicon when it comes to sharing about themselves but he doesn't let just anyone have access to the suits that he wears. It's a measure of trust, but they're probably well beyond that point anyway.
Matt just laughs and ponders his options.
"I like charity better as a concept and I'm told that I look okay in a tux. I've been on a yacht before but that was with my ex-girlfriend. It was an alright time, but we didn't really leave the cabin so I don't think I got the full boating experience. Which is to say that I'm open. This is more your wheelhouse than mine so I'll leave that up to you. Just tell me where I have to be and the dress code. Though...I'll probably need a new tux."
Bruce is... completely comfortable with this. Bruce has gotten all his defensive hackles out of the way during being pulled into at least the occasional team pursuit. That they have very different cities, but similar ethics and goals? Even backgrounds in many ways, and a side of 'mutually assured destruction'? Helps.
Meanwhile. "I'll look at it. What will work best is probably burying the actual device somewhere around your knee and the switch to activate it in one of your gloves. I use a similar set up to activate my cape." He still likes this train of thought more, but.
"Let's do the yacht. You can get your designer friend on getting you outfitted with a tux. I'll make sure he gets paid for it and then we can do the more taxing event. On the yacht we'll have the option of staying in one cabin as much as we want, and letting assumptions as to why provide some space if needed."
Matt has the added advantage of knowing that this isn't a lie because nothing has made Bruce's heartbeat falter or quicken in their discussions. They're both all in, he thinks, and that helps a lot. He's done the diligence that can be completed on the cursory level of what Batman has done for his city, splashed across headlines, and they might come at this from different angles but they're aligned in more ways than they superficially differ.
"Okay," he agrees. He's happy to leave that work to Bruce to figure out.
"He'll love the idea of doing a tux for me. But really--he owes me, so don't worry about the cost this round. Next time," he says with a laugh. It's true though; he's provided enough legal work that it's a more than equitable trade and he's been offered 'real' suits in the past. "Shit," he says after a pause, "Problem with the yacht. If the photographers are using anything that can pick out detail, I'm kind of a tapestry of scars. Particularly across my chest. I don't know how visual they appear but I assume it's not great. Is it going to appear unusual if I wear a shirt for this endeavor?" These are the little details in Matt's life that he considers near constantly.
"No." It's a touch dry, and the tone is laced with self-depreciating humor. "I am also a scarred up mess, though the highest concentration of mine are on my back. I'm typically bruised to hell and back, too. I usually wear a shirt, even around the pool." Which is just standard for him.
"Probably more importantly you don't have a reputation with these people yet, and you're a Catholic man in a gay relationship. With me. You can craft any level of 'modesty', shyness, you want - or go the opposite and blame masochism and kinky sex- to explain anything you need. If you turn up with facial bruising, though, I will be putting make up on you." those are much harder to explain away.
"You have the excuse of extreme sports and wild sex as a background and your back is a more expected place for those kinds of scars, but a shirt is probably the play for me here," he agrees. "As good as my abs are, I don't think they need to be splashed in tabloids along with questions about why I have six inch scars all over me." Pragmatically, it's the easiest solution to just wear a shirt or tank and call it a day. He just didn't know the apparent dress code for such endeavors so now that he does, it's one of those concerns that can get filed away.
Between bites, he flashes a smile at the suggestion of makeup. "I can go along with that. It was always more a practicality issue than anything else." He can't really apply it himself, for one thing, and he always felt like asking Karen to lend a hand just opened him up to more concerns and worries. "What other parts of your daily activities end up in the press that I'll need to slot into?"
"You can come up with any excuse you want. They don't know you well enough to think anything is implausible, but the shirt's probably the easiest option." Also, though. "Don't think what's going on with my body can actually be explained by extreme sports or any level of sex. At least to anyone who isn't so used to thinking I'm out of control and self-destructive."
It's... bad, actually. Also not really an important consideration at the moment, or possibly ever.
"I don't think anything except possibly getting involved in some of the Foundation - that's the charitable work - applies. Maybe the occasional shared vacation. No one is going to expect you to turn up at a board meeting, and while I run Wayne Enterprises, I do it mostly as a shadow figure." He frowns, just faintly, trying to think. "Maybe the occasional theater or dinner date."
"True, but it's also a matter of crafting an image that I can maintain the easiest, and that's just a shirt," he grins back. There's no need to entirely reinvent the wheel if clothing wouldn't pose any kind of question. "Yeah, that's the other thing. There's not a good story for me, even if I did have traditional vision. It's all kind of a...chaotic tapestry of violence that's too deep to have ever been anyone's idea of a good time." He knows people are happy to ignore things just so they don't have to deal with them, and that has certainly helped with the mild injuries.
He knows a thing or two about being self destructive so he lets it go. He doesn't want to have to answer for his own.
"I'd be happy to assist anywhere you'd like me to with the charitable foundation. I did some reading on that. The occasional vacation or date is obviously fine. I would posit attending a symphony might be a better look for you to be seen as someone who is accommodating your blind boyfriend." He finishes another slice of pizza and goes back to the box since, apparently, he's skinny and needs the calories. "I like the botanical gardens. A wine tasting might be another good idea."
"The place this facade will most likely show cracks on my side will be remembering to accommodate you in public," he muses. It's not a memory problem- he's never forgotten anything in his life, unfortunately. It will be a strong divergence from the pattern they're already establishing, which is to leave Matt to it unless asked for some form of assistance (brail clothing tags). "Fortunately, my reputation as a slight asshole should cover that."
It's just sharing his thought process, so Matt stays with him. He doesn't do a lot of that for many people, but it's... nice to do. he also keeps eating his pizza, taking a pause to wipe his hands on a napkin.
"I'm willing to do all those things. We can do the Botanical Gardens before I leave. Visit something similar in Gotham. You might actually enjoy the grounds of the Manor. They're... nice, albeit none of them have anything to do with me or my work." The wine tasting he'll just..not actually drink (or taste) the wine. He's good at that ruse.
"Most people don't really know how to and plenty slip up so it's not a big deal. People live a certain way on default and accommodation is always a bit of a curveball in that," Matt assures him, though he's certain that Bruce doesn't really need any of that from him anyway. There is also the wrench of how Matt's actual abilities that he's made clear so far are different from the ones that often require the accommodation but he's good at filling in that gap and knowing how things will appear from the outside.
It makes sense. The pieces are falling into place and it's strange how this doesn't feel like a strain. In some ways, it feels like a reprieve from the phony image he's been playing at for so long while he just attempts to be the old Matt Murdock. Being something new and different somehow feels better.
"That sounds good. Museums are also a possibility. They do a lot to make those accessible. Walking around grounds of a manor is an idea that still takes some getting used to but I'm sure it's lovely. For as miserable as you make some of the tasks of being Bruce Wayne sound, you might end up enjoying yourself now and then."
Maybe you need some more people in your life, Matt, and something going on that's not law and crime fighting on your own.
When Bruce Wayne has that thought about somebody, it's quite possibly a tell.
"The accommodations would be a curveball. Accommodations that you don't actually need are a downright trip hazard." There's a flash of a grin to go with that. "I don't dislike most of being Bruce Wayne. I just have an incredibly limited social battery, and turning on enough to play the role exhausts me. What about being on the grounds of the Manor is going to take getting used to?"
Matt's life is typically a trashfire in one way or another and it just seems easier to go to work, come home, put on the mask and lather, rinse, repeat. He's cut himself off enough that people have noticed, and sometimes he has to answer for it, but he does so with an affable charm and hopes that's enough to cover for the things he doesn't really want to answer for. It's lonely sometimes, maybe even a little hollow, but he can set those feelings aside when there's a job to do.
"Yeah. I'll correct you where you need it, don't worry," he smiles back. A limited social battery makes sense. Matt's seems like it might have more capacity, given that he spends so much time working with people, but he can imagine the scenarios are very different. "The quiet. Nothing is ever really quiet for me, exactly, but it's not the same as a city. This is a world I'm familiar with where there's a constant hum of people and everything they use to live their lives. On a manor, I imagine it's just nature and a lot less voices and heartbeats."
"Exactly what both Bruce Wayne and Batman are known for: accepting correction with grace." That too is just more dry, self-depreciating humor, while he eats more of his pizza.
"You're nearly certainly right about the level of quiet, especially with the level of soundproofing," and he means 'Superman can hear loud things and Matt will probably catch some things, but it's a lot, "around the cave. On the other hand the building and grounds aren't all public and imposing. Alfred and I, and occasionally one of the kids or a guest, have to be able to live there comfortably, too."
"I'm thirty years into this whole blind gig, so I'm pretty good at giving people polite correction about things," he answers with a faint smile in return. He's finished with his part of the pizza, he thinks, and sets aside his plate with the last piece just half eaten on it.
"Soundproofing makes me feel like I'm in a coffin, but I'll manage," he counters. "It's all kind of hard to picture. The whole stately grounds sort of thing. I'll figure it out pretty quickly once I'm actually there and can experience it myself. Until then, the level of sound or what I would expect to pick up is all just kind of abstract. I don't think I'm overly concerned about that part. I'm pretty adaptable. I have to be." It's just the nature of his life, both in dealing with how his senses function in the world and the fact that he gets himself into implausible situations like arranging a for-show relationship with Bruce Wayne.
"I appreciate that you think there's any chance that Batman would care how polite you're being." That's still just being a smart ass. He is, at least, just about finished with his eating, though.
That he's slower on that one than Matt is mildly amusing. He's going to blame Alfred, just because he can.
"I really want to get you out there, sooner rather than later. I know it's more complicated, but I can explain the cave and Manor until I turn blue: it won't help you as much as getting a literal feel for it. However you do that, exactly." The cave is an entire system. And it's open. Soundproofing is there, but not to the degree that Matt may be thinking. Or it might be. "did you ever figure out what I look like?"
"Well, I figure flies and honey and vinegar is an adage for a reason and being a dick about it myself isn't going to do anyone any good," he replies, smirking back.
He offers a nod while he gets up from the couch to start picking up everything to put the dishes away and to put the remaining few slices into the refrigerator. Depending on what, if anything, he does out in the suit tonight, sometimes he shoves some food in his face before he falls asleep. "I don't work weekends--during the day, anyway. So I can come out. I might lean on you to arrange transportation. I don't really leave the city much unless I have to so whatever you think is the most pragmatic way." The question sparks another short laugh. "I know what you look like in a way that's hard to describe easily. Every movement you make, every sound that's in the room, it all bounces off of you. Like an echo. It paints a picture of you, like you're made of flame. Everything in my world 'looks' like it's on fire. You included. Do you want my observations?"
"You mentioned disliking flying." Which makes sense given Matt's senses and echolocation. "That leaves the train if you're being stubborn, a private car and driver," or him, "if we're trying to be discrete, or a limo if we want it to be very visible."
That out of the way and onto more interesting things. While he stands up and moves the coffee table back to its original position. "Would you recognize me based on that imprint alone, or would your other senses need to be in play?"
"The pressure is hard for me. The popping sound that you feel, or the way that it muffles your hearing? Multiple that by a hundred," he explains with a shrug. "I'll leave that up to you as far as private car vs. limo. I can avoid the train and not be stubborn in this scenario." He thinks, anyway. He's been around money before with Elektra so it's not wholly foreign to him and she would have sooner lost a kidney than taken a train.
"Once I'm familiar with someone, I can recognize their heartbeat, for one thing. What their skin and hair smells like. The rhythm of their breathing. But yes, if I were to come across you on a street surrounded by strangers, I would be able to pick you out. It's not sight. It's like radar, I guess is the best description."
[Haha, not so cool when someone Else does it, is it Jim? Is this how his people feel every time there's a Situation??]
I can see the sign for 50th St station across the way. There's a car hanging out of a boutique front window so mind the broken glass.
[In this case cooperating means he'll be able to get Matt somewhere safe quicker too. He sure as hell doesn't know his way around the area so running off to find the blind man? Not smart.]
It's...kind of what I do. Just. You're going to have to trust me on this one.
[With this kind of chaos, Matt wouldn't have been able to sit it out anyway but now? Yeah, no chance. Sorry Jim, you're just going to have to deal with it.]
Alright, I'm on it. Just stay safe and I'll find you. I might have some explaining to do when that happens but just keep an open mind.
Not giving me much of a choice BUT to trust you in the moment.
[He just hates that feeling of his heart being jammed up into his throat trying to imagine Matt and his cane navigating out here while he's taking cover with this poor guy behind the half overturned car.
At least they managed to get out of the window finally. The webbing has the rest of the car firmly held upright.]
[Was Matt ever intending to disclose the Daredevil part of his life? Probably not. The problem is that emergencies and chaos on the streets doesn't take his social life into account and he wouldn't be able to stand by under normal circumstances. That he knows someone caught in the chaos of what sounds like yet another insane attack on New York. Spiders? He's not sure. All things considered, giant arachnids wouldn't surprise him. This fucking town.
It takes longer than he would like. There's carnage so he has to stop a few times to do quick search and rescue when he can hear a heartbeat behind rubble.
Eventually he gets street level across from the station and he picks up Jim's cologne and the smell of the soap he uses so Matt can find him and the driver hiding behind the shell of car. Well. Now or never. He approaches with heavy boots crushing across shattered glass.]
This way. You're going to have to follow me.
[The driver is thrilled; Daredevil is here to save them.]
[Citrus, a bit of cardamom, and a whole lot of anxiety right about now. The driver is looking more relieved by the moment when Daredevil appears. Jim is keeping a lookout across the street. And when Matt speaks, it's relief at first that washes over Jim's entire posture, too. He knows that voice.]
Thank fuck. You have no idea how...
[When he turns around he trails off. Blinks. Looks around then back at the guy in the outfit in front of him. The little hamster wheel upstairs is starting to smoke.]
Uh.
[No no, it's cool. He's one of the good guys, the driver is quick to explain. Jim drags his tongue along his lower lip, clearly debating on what if anything to say before he just nods.]
[A guy dressed as the devil showing up is probably weird enough but he hears the way Jim's heartbeat jumps as 2 and 2 are put together in an instant. It's not really the kind of conversation that he can have right now because, for one thing, there's an emergency going on and for another, they have an audience with the driver present. Secret identity and all.
Matt surveys the street around them and the sounds that map the world for him. A path comes to focus.]
I'm going to get you to the subway--
[He doesn't finish the thought before he hears something barreling down the below them, presumably in the tunnels, and it very much is not a train. Jim and the driver would hear nothing.]
Nope, reverse that. That's where the monsters headed. So. New plan. We're close to Clinton Church. It'll be safe there. Stay close to me.
[With that, Matt starts to move with his attention on the two men with him. He's going to have a lot of explaining to do but he can do that after Jim and the driver are safe in the basement of the church.]
[See the thing is, Jim's too busy noticing that this guy's mask has no possible way for visibility. What means he wasn't lying about the whole being blind thing. Which means Jim isn't crazy for recognizing Matt's voice. Or what little of his face that can be seen.
The driver might ask if Daredevil is certain given the subway entrance is Right there. But Jim just makes a soft, noncommittal sound in the affirmation and falls into step. The last half hour has been a Lot for him to take in.]
[He doesn't really have a good way of communicating 'we'll talk about this later' to Jim in the presence of the driver so he just goes with the next best option, which is to get them safe and deal with the weird fallout that monsters or aliens or...whatever this is...is going to bring to his personal life.
The streets are a maze of broken glass, destroyed cars and wreckage. Not ideal. He tries to keep them close to the buildings so they're not just walking down the middle of the street as open targets. It means dodging the occasional bits of falling debris and glass but Matt moves them to-and-fro, telling them to stop or to move to the right and left to avoid danger. When they're in what is essentially a straight shot down the block to the church, Matt hears the rumbling under the sidewalk. Shit.]
Run. As fast as you can.
[He gets the words out just before the concrete behind them buckles]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
~ knightbynight
I can't imagine. I've had injuries but my spine has been relatively okay by comparison. Fucked up my pelvis something fierce when the building fell on me, a lot of broken bones and thought I was losing my hearing. That last one was my nightmare scenario.
Strangely, this might end up being the opposite of a self destructive stunt. He might be proud of you.
I know I should. The problem has always been the explanation. I got sliced to shit by a ninja a long time ago and even ten years on, the scars are still there. I can't explain that to a normal doctor. There's no surgical uniformity to them that might come from medical procedures and "fell in a woodchipper" seems like it'd prompt questions.
Re: ~ knightbynight
He will probably ultimately be proud of me and happy about it. He'll just need to see and hear that first hand. Fortunately, it's Superman. Knee jerk responses aren't typical for him. And you can probably work in teaching him a thing or two about grounding his senses at some point.
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That's understandable. It's kind of a big bomb to drop on someone as a surprise. I've never had to teach anyone that part before. The guy who taught me was an asshole so at least I know I'll be nicer about it.
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We're still both going to end up bleeding to death in a gutter - if we're lucky.
He just needs some guidance in finding something that's not relying on me or his parents.
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I always assumed it'd be in a dumpster for me. A gutter is probably a step up in the world.
I understand that. I don't know where I'd be if I had to figure out all of this on my own.
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Make-up also helps but that would be a rough one for you to pull off.
Thank you.
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Yeah, that's one of those things I can't manage. People do tend to look the other way with injuries that they attribute to disability but after a while, even the innate desire of people to not be perceived as rude stops working.
Of course. I know the value of help with that.
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The reasons are mostly skiing and rock climbing - sky diving I stay away from. Batman's too known for heights and dropping from them.
If I get a reputation for abusing you, I'm going to be annoyed.
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That's a good call.
If you mean in the public eye, I'm not well known so I can just start a brand new cycle of excuses since they'll appear fresh. Also, I presume that if I'm 'mugged' then there's some way to use that. The people who were once most concerned about my bruises either know now or are dead. I think Kirsten just believes I'm in a blind underground fight club.
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I mean the public. No one who knows either of us would believe it privately - and if they do, I have bigger problems than the press. We can use you being an apparent victim of crime very well, I think.
Kirsten isn't entirely wrong.
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I've never had to float a lie to the greater public about why I have a bruise on my jaw so starting from scratch on the revolving wheel of excuses will work fine. As much as it annoys me, I recognize that I make a convenient 'victim' for those sorts of narratives if I choose to lean in.
Not entirely.
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I don't like the victim narrative any more than I like pretending to be an oversexed, reckless drunk, but when the narrative is convenient it's worth keeping. Especially when it's mostly false.
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It annoys me more as part of the perception of disability but I also recognize all the ways that I use that to my advantage, so it does often feel like talking out of both sides of my mouth to complain about it. It's what it is, but sometimes it's trying to go through life having to pretend to be something you're not. As I'm sure you well know.
In any event, I'm going to start dropping the "oh, I can't make plans, I've been talking to someone" on people in the office. No names yet. Building the story. How should I say we met?
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That's a good question. Where would our public lives intersect? Where does your public persona go besides work and court?
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I don't have much of a public persona in that way. I go to a local dive bar if I'm not doing the other things in my life and I can't imagine that you and I would meet there. You don't seem the type to appreciate a place where your shoes kind of stick to the floor when you take a step. But that makes me a more malleable quantity in this story. You're probably better with the sort of public storytelling. I just try cases and sometimes give quotes to the press.
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I actually prefer that kind of bar, but not as my public face. Let's just say I was on a business trip and ran into you at a coffee shop. "Brucie" is aggressive enough in pursuit of a pretty face that all he has to do is have seen you.
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That works for me. I stop at a coffee shop near the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse every time I'm in court. That's lower Manhattan so I'm sure there's plenty of good reason why you could have business in the area. Please tell me I don't have to call you that and did you just refer to me as a pretty face?
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If you ever call me Brucie, I'm going to be... upset. [ He hates it, thanks.] It's a way I can distinguish the persona from me, at least loosely, but I hate it. And I'd like to think we're building some kind friendship and solid working relationship.
Reasons to have been there are easy to come up with. Yes, I referred to you as pretty. You're not actually far off my type, known and otherwise, anyway.
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I would never, thank you very much. That cutesy shit is...not for me. Similarly, only my dad, Stick and my priest ever got to call me Matty, so none of that. Matthew or Matt is fine. I like to think we're well on our way to that.
I drink black coffee with three sugars, by the way. If that were to come up. Real sugar; I can tell that fake shit and it tastes like chemicals to me. See, you've got me at a disadvantage still since we're not in person yet, but I appreciate the compliment all the same.
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I drink my coffee black. There's only so far I'll take the facade, though you're going to get called 'sweetheart' a lot. Apologies in advance.
I can be in person by the time you get off work tomorrow.
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Yeah, you seem the type. Sweetheart is fine. I can handle sweetheart. That's usually my default endearment as well.
Alright. I imagine I'll be done reasonably early as long as my client shuts the hell up for once.
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Faulker seems like a good person to quote at you. “Never be afraid to raise your voice for honesty and truth and compassion against injustice and lying and greed.”
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I was always partial to "Because no battle is ever won he said. They are not even fought. The field only reveals to man his own folly and despair, and victory is an illusion of philosophers and fools." I think she dropped the other line on me because she picked it up in a shrink book, though, to be fair.
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I would lose what's left of my sanity trying to date someone with a background in mental health. Or they would.
For what it's worth, my favorite is "Don't bother just to be better than others. Try to be better than yourself."
I'll see you tomorrow - and good luck with the tenants case.
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One of Kirsten's attempts at getting me back to living some semblance of a life. When my ex started wanting to write about the vigilantes in the city and the literal and figurative masks...yeah.
I like that one.
I'm looking forward to it. Thank you. I'm hoping it's a win for the 'little guy.'
Do you want to move this to action/meeting?
I'll try to make sure it's a show worth listening in on -- and bring flowers.
I would love that. Feel free to just keep the thread going if you don't want to make a new one
I like the scent of lilies and jasmine. For the record.
DONE
He gets to Matt's office a touch early. Tailored suit, but no tie and first few collars of his dress shirt undone. Italian leather shoes, and the jasmine and lily floral arrangement he had custom ordered and picked up on the way. The early is intentional. It gives him a solid reason to be impatient and put on a bit of a show.
He sits, asks periodically if Matt's done yet and when he'll be done and flashes around a thousand watt smile. Tells the story of meeting Matt at the coffee shop and how much he admires his work as a lawyer and how intelligent he must be.
He's mentally flagging slightly in the ten minutes or so it takes before the work day is actually done. It doesn't show but lord that routine is more tiring than any amount of Batman.
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Finally, Matt rises to his feet and extends his hand, slightly off center, for their client to shake while they say their departing remarks. That's when Kirsten notices someone is waiting for him and the administrative assistant can finally poke her head into the room to announce that Bruce Wayne is waiting for Matt.
Showtime.
Matt picks up his cane and heads out of the conference room with a smooth, easy smile. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting." He makes quick assessments. Ones that maybe he'll tell Bruce about sometime but he picks up a lot in the split seconds of standing across from one another for the first time. Size and build. The way he holds himself as he stands in confidence. It all paints a picture.
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He's more loose limbed, 'unconsciously' graceful than he would be in the cowl or even just moving around the Manor.
He sticks to that while he moves to meet Matt half way, and flashes a smile that's just a bit pained. "Maybe a little, but it was worth it." He puts a hand on Matt's shoulder and gives it a squeeze, then pulls back and offers the flowers. "These are for you."
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Still, he smiles brightly at the flowers that are put into his hands. "They smell wonderful. Thank you." He turns his attention to the administrator and politely asks her to put them in water and on his desk, if it's not too much trouble.
"We should get going. We don't want to be late." A good excuse for a discrete exit is made and he folds his cane to instead hook his arm with Bruce's to allow him to lead the way from the office.
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The hand on his arm is a cue, but he flashes another smile and even waves around Matt to Kirsten in the doorway. "Yes, we'll be late for our reservation." For probably pizza and holding up in Matt's apartment, but that's neither here nor there.
There's still some difference in how he moves when he leads the way out the way he came, but what there isn't is an excessive amount of hesitancy or caution around Matt and 'leading' him. "I think," he says, once out of easy hearing range, "Your receptionist was suitably... surprised at having to deal with my unexpected presence."
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They need a chance to figure out a little more of this before they make a real public entrance but that's what this is for. Feigning physical intimacy is a strangely difficult thing and if they were perfect strangers going into Matt's stupid award ceremony, it'd look stiff and wooden. That doesn't sell papers and tabloid stories.
So far, it feels fairly natural, all told. Bruce is bigger than him by a considerable margin so he knows what he meant now about how their styles would be different. "Yeah, I heard her heartbeat get fast. Especially when you kept doing a time check to figure out when I would be done," he faintly smiles. "My place is a couple blocks away. Do rich people walk anywhere or do they just take limos?"
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To avoid attention - he means into jeans and boots, not into Batman. Not his city and that would be beyond wrong, even if it wouldn't be too obvious a connection to allow.
n
He's actually pretty okay with physical contact and casual intimacy - within this role and act and mindset. His response will be different (one way or another) in private. "But you'll need to lead the way to the apartment - and find a number for pizza delivery once we're there."
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Matt has never had to maintain a public image where those things matter or anyone but a small sub-circle of friends actually care about who he's dating or what he's doing.
"I'll make it look like you're leading," he says with a grin.
Once they exit the building, Matt gives Bruce's arm a soft squeeze and a tug to the right to indicate which way to go. "And don't worry about pizza. I have menus in the 'junk' drawer by the refrigerator." He can feel the raised text that comes with the heavy ink printing that is used on those cheap pamphlets but he doesn't mention that part.
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Bruce veers right when tugged, and looks up the street to see the direction they're going. "This is an area I'd choose if I wanted to pull off high profitable small scale crime," he admits. "But I don't think most would."
He'll figure out what to order - and how Matt uses a menu, maybe - when they get to the apartment. "I already have a room at a fairly expensive hotel. I'll make my exit some time before dawn. The public one, anyway. If I need to change before then I'll be more discrete in my exit and return."
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He picks up on a few double-takes. Probably not as many as they might get in Gotham but it's not as if Bruce Wayne is an entirely unknown quantity, especially for those with an interest in the gossip pages based on Matt's online searching. Good. This is already doing some of the work. Little hints dropped out in the world and breadcrumbs that a gullible press will follow.
"I might be the one who has to make a dramatic exit at some point," he answers. He has the intentions of staying in while they work on their cover story but he hears things and it's hard to ignore the world outside his window and beyond his rooftop sometimes. "I trust you to be discrete. I'm on the top floor--obviously. If that helps one way or another now or in the future."
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Bruce is noticing the occasional look, but there is no, even subconscious reaction to it. Not so much as a change in his heart rate or muscle tension.
"Top floor will help with discrete, both now and in the future. More in the future. I'm also prepared to be 'abandoned' if the need rises. If something comes up for me, I should be able to handle it without leaving. If I can't, you may get Superman in your living room. Fortunately, he's learned to open windows in the last decade or so." that one's fond.
They have a lot to talk about. Some of it things that haven't come up at all and have little to do with crime fighting.
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He notices Bruce's calm and keeps his own reaction steady. He's good at that because he's not supposed to know these things around him so he's well trained in a placid expression.
"I figured you, of all people, would understand that my schedule is sometimes filled last minute. And I do have a balcony so that might make things a little easier for him if he does." But Matt hopes there isn't an emergency on either of their parts. Outside of the constant fleeting hope that maybe the world will be quiet for a while, they have a lot to figure out. He gives Bruce's arm a soft squeeze again with a draw to a left turn. "We go three blocks down this way and it's the building on the right at the end of the block. Can't miss it."
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There's no change in his pace or the cadence of it, but once he's sure of where he's going the motion itself becomes more... fluid. What he thinks, but does not say, is that he understands last minute interruptions, but also that sometimes you're just so damn tired that they ... hit harder than others. Even if they're not interrupting anything important and the tired is mostly not physical.
"I think my mother hated it more."
Or maybe that's just him.
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Playing that part seems like it would be just as exhausting as the one that Matt himself performs every day. Illusions and deceptions for what is expected.
"Is it strange to say that I love Hell's Kitchen? I still do. Despite everything. There's never anywhere that's going to feel like home. That's why it's important to do what I can to help." On the surface, he could just as easily be speaking of his work as a lawyer. Helping around the neighborhood and lending assistance to the people he grew up around. They both know what it really means. Even if he stops sometimes because he gets broken down, bone deep tired from what it takes and what it has cost him, he comes back to the Kitchen. Every single time.
He keeps his head forward while they walk. "Directly behind you, maybe forty feet, someone snapped your picture. Quick gait, trying to keep up and still keep distance." He could hear the click of the lens.
So far, so good.
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Probably. He is very attached to the City. Gotham is his. Wayne Manor is something he is the inheritor and...caretaker of, in a sense. His father and mother's that he happens to live in.
"It's very similar to my relationship with the family fortune, actually." Similar sort of thing. Use it well, keep the companies and businesses intact, grow them where he can, but they don't feel like this. "It is no more strange to love Hell's Kitchen than it is to live Gotham. It might even be less strange, since you live there." He has no problem with any of that being overheard, if it is, though.
"Thank you. Hopefully someone will appear in front of us so they get a picture that's not largely composed of my ass - however good it looks in these pants."
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Hell's Kitchen belongs to the Devil, if the papers are to be believed and in some way, maybe Matt internalizes that too. He has a stewardship over it that would be difficult to explain to most people but not, seemingly, to Bruce.
"Sometimes places are just in your blood. You can try to change the scenery but we are who we are," he replies with a faint tilt of his head toward Bruce. "Your ass might have to contend with mine for space on the tabloid cover. But when we get to my door, it's a buzzer system so we can stop at it and pause. Have a moment that they can take a good shot of." A little canoodling on the stoop of the apartment building seems like it might make a decent enough photograph for a tabloid. He can only assume Bruce Wayne was followed at a distance from when he arrived in the city by one zealous photographer since paparazzi are a rare thing in the neighborhood.
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But he's also just intelligent enough to not do that, at least right now.
"The amount of speculation about our respective asses that is likely to hit the papers is enough to almost make even me uncomfortable." Almost is relative. He does not care at all. He is slightly concerned about Matt, but. "If you want to give them a brief show, we can certainly do that. Just poke me if I'm taking it further than you want it taken."
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He quietly scoffs at the remark and shakes his head. "Oh, I'm sure." The idea of scrutiny, even if it's built on a lie and half truth is still strange. Daredevil gets splashed across websites and youtube. Matt Murdock gets mentioned when he happens to associate with a case that matters but, like everything in the city, it's a glimmer of attention before it fades to the next big story. He's setting himself up to be part of a ruse that lingers longer than the public's care about a trial.
"I'm sure I'll let you know." It didn't feel like it'd have to be a huge presentation of public affection. As long as it wouldn't be construed as 'just friends' then it would be enough.
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Meanwhile he's not planning a make-out session on the building door, but fair warning and a method of stop determined between them just seems like the smart thing to do.
Meanwhile he slips his arm from Matt's hand, trails his fingers down to Matt's hand and weaves their fingers together. Still functional (to observers) but much less platonic and more obvious. especially staying as close as he is to the other man. "We'll be there soon."
He'll pretend he's not making a list of shit they need to cover, meanwhile.
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He tilts his head in Bruce's direction to offer a smile when he takes his hand; it offers a profile photograph, he figures, and he's been told that he's got a pretty good smile so he thinks it will add another piece to the puzzle. Sure enough, there's a couple of fast clicks of the camera. For an amateur, he thinks he's got pretty good instincts so far as to what presenting this brand of image to the world means.
They still have a lot to figure out. Stories to rehearse and lies to form so that they know they're telling the same one. His usual brand of half-truths and outright fabrications is a solo effort so this is a new challenge.
Wrong thread entirely, sorry!
He deliberately looks a little concerned, even paranoid, when Matt smiles and turns his head toward him, assuming that pose is for a photograph. Looking like he's not quite sneaking, but not eager for exposure immediately is a story he'd prefer.
Meanwhile they've worked out enough that when we make it to the building he presses the buzzer, but also pulls Matt in to a light kiss. On the lips, slow and soft and practiced and without letting go of their joined hands, but brief.
no problem it happens!
He just gives Bruce a smile and a, "Come on," before he lets them into the building. There's an elevator that goes to the top floor where Matt's apartment is and he doesn't drop anything of the act there. There's the security camera, after all, that he can hear as an ever soft electronic whir.
On his floor, he unlocks the door and lets them in. As soon as the door is closed, Matt tosses his keys into a dish meant to hold them and just laughs. "Do you think he got a good picture?"
Re: no problem it happens!
That relief intensifies when they're inside the apartment. He takes his suit jacket off immediately and tosses it on the nearest piece of furniture. "I hope so. That was a lot of work, if he can't sell the pictures for a decent price. You seem to be have fun with this."
...Bruce is going off toward the kitchen and 'junk' drawer to find the take out menus. Sue him - seriously, he's loaded. He's also starving.
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He takes off his jacket, hangs it, and removes his shoes. "You seem to be making yourself at home. I'm going to change out of the button down and tie. There's water in the refrigerator. Some energy drinks. Gatorade. And protein bars in the third cupboard to the right if you can't wait for pizza," he says before padding across the apartment to the bedroom to change.
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Yeah, he's rude. He watches to see the direction that Matt goes, so he understands the apartment's layout better, finds a protein bar that he opens with his teeth and one hand, while grabbing a pizza delivery menu with the other.
He does at least swallow before: "What do you want on the pizza?" he asks from where he's standing and does not bother raising his voice.
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In the bedroom, he takes off his button-down shirt and absently pushes his hand against a bruise on his rib cage to see how far alone it is in healing. Suits hide a lot. Probably a couple of days before it fades. So it goes. He puts on a pair of black pajama bottoms and an old, faded Columbia shirt. "No olives, no peppers, no pineapple. Otherwise go nuts," he calls back, loud enough that Bruce will be able to hear him.
Once he finishes, he steps back into the living room and the open concept floor plan back to the kitchen.
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He's finishing the protein bar, leaned against Matt's counter when he comes back into the room. He looks up from the menu and tilts his head at what Matt's changed into and actually, sincerely, smiles. "That's a good look."
Suits Matt in a specific kind of way and feels very... undone and out of any sort of uniform.
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He flashes an easy smile in response. "A little bit of a downgrade from the sale Nordstrom suit or the really good one that's in my locked storage." There doesn't seem to a need to keep up appearances and maybe this is a decidedly softer image but it's his home and he thinks they should probably be comfortable around one another.
He flicks the cap for the water into the trash. "Did you decide?"
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Bruce actually is comfortable now. That's almost a surprise even to him, but the second he got into the apartment, understood the layout and exits, he's unwound in a way he rarely does. A lot of that, admittedly, is not just that he isn't performing. It's that he's not anywhere in the vicinity of any of the work he does.
"I'm ordering it with everything but olives, pineapple and peppers. You could use the calories." So could Bruce. Regardless it should taste pretty good at that point. " ...Or pickles. Those don't belong on any pizza or most food."
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Matt can tell in the way that Bruce's body has relaxed a little bit since they arrived in the apartment. It makes sense. There are no prying eyes. No images to maintain and nothing that should be carrying on his shoulders at the moment except for the questions of future expectations. Those conversations haven't been particularly painful.
"Did you just call me skinny?" he asks about the remark on the calories, though it's punctuated with a smile. "I didn't even realize that pickles were an option. Truly a cursed food. I don't like much that just carries the taste of the brine it was sitting in."
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He continues his casual lean, while dialing the number for the pizza place. "I have never liked pickles, but after experiencing a 'high end' pickle that amounted to dill pickles with an obscene amount of saffron dumped in the jar, I'm not convinced I'll ever be able to eat another one."
Then he makes the call and places the order. When he hangs up? No real.. lead in, but: "Are you dating or having sex with anyone now, and do you expect to be in the future?" What? They're ironing out some details. That's a potentially big one.
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He shakes his head, "Thus proving how much of a scam high end is," he grins.
Matt isn't sure if he's surprised by the question and its directness or if he appreciates it. He snickers all the same and takes a sip of his water. "No, I am not dating or sleeping with anyone currently. I broke up with the therapist and I'm not seeing anyone. I have the expectation that the image of monogamy is somewhat central to this whole thing so I don't expect to, no. And you?"
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He pushes slowly up on Matt's counter to sit, while they wait on the pizza and talk. He's impressed at how easily Matt answered the question and got involved in asking his own. Not that he expected Matt to refuse to answer, but a snicker instead of a splutter is appreciated.
"I hope the image of monogamy unless we need a public scandal is the expectation." He's tired. He is so, so, tired. If he can drop even some of that, he can - redirect to the business and Batman. He'll still be less tired. "I'm sleeping with a couple of people, occasionally. Both have their own secret identities and occasionally is 'rare but not never'."
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He recognizes the need for the question and frankly, he appreciates that it comes in a direct way instead of tip-toeing around one another. Sex, too, is not any kind of taboo topic for him and to be asked outright about his sexual partners or his thoughts on new ones isn't going to bother him. "You don't have to worry about me in that regard, then." He'll sell the story and the image, just as they have discussed.
"Is this your way of telling me that you're going to continue that arrangement? Because it's fine, obviously." He doesn't really think it was an ask, exactly. An FYI, perhaps. Either way, he's not pressed about it since it seems that the secret identity part will keep it from spilling over into the gossip rags.
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Yes, he knows who he's dealing with and that Matt will want as many details as possible ironed out. Matt may even do a better job of spotting loopholes and complications than Bruce will. He certainly won't do a worse one.
Bruce pauses to unbutton his cuffs, and starts to roll his sleeves back.
"But that's not actually what I'm telling you. To begin with, it's less arrangement and more occasional event. Frankly, I don't have all that much sex for reasons I am absolutely sure you understand and others you probably don't relate to as directly. I don't care what the outcome is, as long as we know what the lines are and it's working for us."
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He has a lot that he wants to iron out but he's strangely not feeling stressed about it. They've been on the same page thus far, even if they have found some minor misalignment in the slight details here and there. More than anything, he feels that he needs to know the what, how, when and why of things just so that he isn't the one who makes a mistake. Bruce's life is decidedly more public than his and it makes it harder to cover any screw-ups on Matt's part if he makes a decided misstep.
"So it's not in the dayplanner," he says with a grin. "The schedule isn't conducive to relationships, I'll grant you." As for other reasons, he's not sure and he doesn't push. It's not his business. "Don't worry. I'm not looking for monogamy out of my sham marriage." It's a bit of a tease.
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It's strange on that level, but general concern for someone else, even in things that he accepts readily for himself? That second part is at least familiar.
Meanwhile, he has an opening and he's taking it.
"What do you want out of it? Money is a given, what specifically do you want that money directed to?"
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"Wilson Fisk is using the cops as his own task force. A lot of innocent people get caught up in that so beyond the necessity for good lawyers and legal resources, bail funds are usually charitable contributions. I can file suit against the city for infringement on constitutional rights and the like, but that doesn't help anyone in the here and now. I can pull together a list of places and organizations that could use funds to help people now, today. Beyond that? Money is what gets in with the Kingpin and his cronies. It gets invitations closer to where power is seated and places where I can do some damage."
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"That's easily done. I'm already known for charitable giving and non-profit organization. The association with you will be more than enough reason to extend myself and finances that reason - and your reputation and work for similar things is enough reason for us to... like each other." It sounds like more of the cover story, and in a way it is. It's also accurate.
"We do need to come up with a contract to protect you. If nothing else some sort of financial payout in the event of divorce with cause. It'll provide an escape hatch and means of ensuring you're not trapped with me for the sake of your work. You also need to seriously, seriously consider how you can take advantage of the finances and tech resources for the night job."
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"I do work with a lot of them already so it's an easy line to draw, even without your other associations so that shouldn't raise eyebrows as far as why they're getting an influx of money. And I think I'm pretty charming so I think we can sell this whole meeting in a coffeeshop and hitting it off based on shared interests story," he replies, flashing another easy smile. Charm and confidence are easy things to project and he can do that with anyone who might ask questions.
"A contract is a given. No lawyer worth anything is going to go into a marriage without a pre-nup, for one thing. Not having one would be its own red flag. Especially the speed at which we're moving with this--no one would believe either of us is that stupid," he answers. "Yeah. I'm thinking about that. I'm not a tech sort of guy based on the limitations of, you know, abject poverty by comparison." He's teasing again, but it's also true; he gets by and has come up in the world since starting the new firm but it doesn't mean he's got the kind of budget Batman does. "I'll give it some consideration. I like the suits I have now and find more armor to be too bulky for the kind of work I do."
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He watches Matt settle with a faint smile. Comfortable is better, and the fact that this man is this isolated while clearly comfortable with at least some company is... sad. Bruce would be better suited to - Well, no, actually he'd spin out and already be engaging in some nasty self-destruction if his world were too small.
"My suit's gotten heavier over the years, and so has my build. Both are largely compensatory. I have to have somewhere for the servos in my pants to go." That is absolutely true and absolutely amused. "But your suit's fine. I'm thinking more security and communications. Maybe non-lethal ranged weaponry."
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He's good with people, and he likes being around them. The way that his life has become isolated is a result of loss and the depression that came with it so it actually feels kind of nice to be sitting and plotting with someone. He's done so much alone lately that even having a conversation about Daredevil and what he does has been far from the norm.
"Mine hasn't changed, really. Other than a few upgrades here and there, the cut of it is roughly the same. I'm a little bit more of a fists and club sort of fighter. I learned on both when I was a kid and I never really considered weaponry beyond that. But there are no communications or anything. So I suppose that's something to look at."
He tilts his head and pushes himself up off the counter so he can start to gather napkins and plates. That's before the door buzzer sounds to mark the arrival of the pizza.
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Bruce prefers to keep his focus on Gotham - and almost cannot take his focus off. But with Clark as part of his life, that broader focus to some degree was inevitable. Maybe it's a good thing. God knows Gotham seems to be determined to die.
Bruce moves when Matt does, leaving the conversation abruptly for the moment, in order to collect (and pay for, and tip) for the pizza. With any luck, he'll be recognized there, too.
When he gets back with the (still hot) box, his first question though is: "table, couch, or floor?" Where are they eating.
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"Couch is fine. Just put it on the coffee table. That's where I usually end up," he replies. Bruce probably knows a thing or two about just being too tired to move for the sake of supposed manners and just because there's now someone else in the space, Matt doesn't feel any particular desire to try to impress by eating with any kind of real additional politeness besides doing it with his mouth closed.
He retrieves another water for himself and takes it to the couch to sit down on one side, leaving the other end or the nearby loveseat open.
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He carries the pizza toward the couch and sets it down, before grabbing the coffee table and moving it closer. Once that's there he sits down and puts the pizza box on it.
"I think at the very least I'm going to insist on some sort of built in communication to the Cave. The rest I'll leave to you, but knowing and being able to respond to serious trouble is a thing I'm going to need."
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"That's fine, as long as it doesn't interfere with my hearing. Feedback or static or the noise that in-ear communications create is a distraction that I can't really afford. If it goes on the fritz, that's bad for me. I trust that's probably not a challenge for you but I just want to make that note," he explains as he tucks his legs under himself in a perfectly easy and casual position on the couch.
"Besides my stupid award dinner thing, what else is on your social calendar where we can align?"
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"I wouldn't want anything in your ear." That's too far. "We can bury something elsewhere in your suit. Have its default be 'off'. I assume you wear gloves?" He's thinking now, in a direction that's actually really comfortable for him, and he even enjoys. Far more than social functions.
"My social calendar is made up almost entirely of charity events and yachts. Which would you prefer? One involves a tuxedo, and the other one involves... a boat, but fewer people."
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Matt just laughs and ponders his options.
"I like charity better as a concept and I'm told that I look okay in a tux. I've been on a yacht before but that was with my ex-girlfriend. It was an alright time, but we didn't really leave the cabin so I don't think I got the full boating experience. Which is to say that I'm open. This is more your wheelhouse than mine so I'll leave that up to you. Just tell me where I have to be and the dress code. Though...I'll probably need a new tux."
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Meanwhile. "I'll look at it. What will work best is probably burying the actual device somewhere around your knee and the switch to activate it in one of your gloves. I use a similar set up to activate my cape." He still likes this train of thought more, but.
"Let's do the yacht. You can get your designer friend on getting you outfitted with a tux. I'll make sure he gets paid for it and then we can do the more taxing event. On the yacht we'll have the option of staying in one cabin as much as we want, and letting assumptions as to why provide some space if needed."
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"Okay," he agrees. He's happy to leave that work to Bruce to figure out.
"He'll love the idea of doing a tux for me. But really--he owes me, so don't worry about the cost this round. Next time," he says with a laugh. It's true though; he's provided enough legal work that it's a more than equitable trade and he's been offered 'real' suits in the past. "Shit," he says after a pause, "Problem with the yacht. If the photographers are using anything that can pick out detail, I'm kind of a tapestry of scars. Particularly across my chest. I don't know how visual they appear but I assume it's not great. Is it going to appear unusual if I wear a shirt for this endeavor?" These are the little details in Matt's life that he considers near constantly.
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"Probably more importantly you don't have a reputation with these people yet, and you're a Catholic man in a gay relationship. With me. You can craft any level of 'modesty', shyness, you want - or go the opposite and blame masochism and kinky sex- to explain anything you need. If you turn up with facial bruising, though, I will be putting make up on you." those are much harder to explain away.
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Between bites, he flashes a smile at the suggestion of makeup. "I can go along with that. It was always more a practicality issue than anything else." He can't really apply it himself, for one thing, and he always felt like asking Karen to lend a hand just opened him up to more concerns and worries. "What other parts of your daily activities end up in the press that I'll need to slot into?"
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It's... bad, actually. Also not really an important consideration at the moment, or possibly ever.
"I don't think anything except possibly getting involved in some of the Foundation - that's the charitable work - applies. Maybe the occasional shared vacation. No one is going to expect you to turn up at a board meeting, and while I run Wayne Enterprises, I do it mostly as a shadow figure." He frowns, just faintly, trying to think. "Maybe the occasional theater or dinner date."
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He knows a thing or two about being self destructive so he lets it go. He doesn't want to have to answer for his own.
"I'd be happy to assist anywhere you'd like me to with the charitable foundation. I did some reading on that. The occasional vacation or date is obviously fine. I would posit attending a symphony might be a better look for you to be seen as someone who is accommodating your blind boyfriend." He finishes another slice of pizza and goes back to the box since, apparently, he's skinny and needs the calories. "I like the botanical gardens. A wine tasting might be another good idea."
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It's just sharing his thought process, so Matt stays with him. He doesn't do a lot of that for many people, but it's... nice to do. he also keeps eating his pizza, taking a pause to wipe his hands on a napkin.
"I'm willing to do all those things. We can do the Botanical Gardens before I leave. Visit something similar in Gotham. You might actually enjoy the grounds of the Manor. They're... nice, albeit none of them have anything to do with me or my work." The wine tasting he'll just..not actually drink (or taste) the wine. He's good at that ruse.
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It makes sense. The pieces are falling into place and it's strange how this doesn't feel like a strain. In some ways, it feels like a reprieve from the phony image he's been playing at for so long while he just attempts to be the old Matt Murdock. Being something new and different somehow feels better.
"That sounds good. Museums are also a possibility. They do a lot to make those accessible. Walking around grounds of a manor is an idea that still takes some getting used to but I'm sure it's lovely. For as miserable as you make some of the tasks of being Bruce Wayne sound, you might end up enjoying yourself now and then."
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When Bruce Wayne has that thought about somebody, it's quite possibly a tell.
"The accommodations would be a curveball. Accommodations that you don't actually need are a downright trip hazard." There's a flash of a grin to go with that. "I don't dislike most of being Bruce Wayne. I just have an incredibly limited social battery, and turning on enough to play the role exhausts me. What about being on the grounds of the Manor is going to take getting used to?"
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"Yeah. I'll correct you where you need it, don't worry," he smiles back. A limited social battery makes sense. Matt's seems like it might have more capacity, given that he spends so much time working with people, but he can imagine the scenarios are very different. "The quiet. Nothing is ever really quiet for me, exactly, but it's not the same as a city. This is a world I'm familiar with where there's a constant hum of people and everything they use to live their lives. On a manor, I imagine it's just nature and a lot less voices and heartbeats."
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"You're nearly certainly right about the level of quiet, especially with the level of soundproofing," and he means 'Superman can hear loud things and Matt will probably catch some things, but it's a lot, "around the cave. On the other hand the building and grounds aren't all public and imposing. Alfred and I, and occasionally one of the kids or a guest, have to be able to live there comfortably, too."
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"Soundproofing makes me feel like I'm in a coffin, but I'll manage," he counters. "It's all kind of hard to picture. The whole stately grounds sort of thing. I'll figure it out pretty quickly once I'm actually there and can experience it myself. Until then, the level of sound or what I would expect to pick up is all just kind of abstract. I don't think I'm overly concerned about that part. I'm pretty adaptable. I have to be." It's just the nature of his life, both in dealing with how his senses function in the world and the fact that he gets himself into implausible situations like arranging a for-show relationship with Bruce Wayne.
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That he's slower on that one than Matt is mildly amusing. He's going to blame Alfred, just because he can.
"I really want to get you out there, sooner rather than later. I know it's more complicated, but I can explain the cave and Manor until I turn blue: it won't help you as much as getting a literal feel for it. However you do that, exactly." The cave is an entire system. And it's open. Soundproofing is there, but not to the degree that Matt may be thinking. Or it might be. "did you ever figure out what I look like?"
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He offers a nod while he gets up from the couch to start picking up everything to put the dishes away and to put the remaining few slices into the refrigerator. Depending on what, if anything, he does out in the suit tonight, sometimes he shoves some food in his face before he falls asleep. "I don't work weekends--during the day, anyway. So I can come out. I might lean on you to arrange transportation. I don't really leave the city much unless I have to so whatever you think is the most pragmatic way." The question sparks another short laugh. "I know what you look like in a way that's hard to describe easily. Every movement you make, every sound that's in the room, it all bounces off of you. Like an echo. It paints a picture of you, like you're made of flame. Everything in my world 'looks' like it's on fire. You included. Do you want my observations?"
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That out of the way and onto more interesting things. While he stands up and moves the coffee table back to its original position. "Would you recognize me based on that imprint alone, or would your other senses need to be in play?"
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"Once I'm familiar with someone, I can recognize their heartbeat, for one thing. What their skin and hair smells like. The rhythm of their breathing. But yes, if I were to come across you on a street surrounded by strangers, I would be able to pick you out. It's not sight. It's like radar, I guess is the best description."
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Yes, I am very much figuring out just how insane it is right now. Which is my way of telling you that I'm obviously not in my apartment anymore.
Just give me a cross-street at least.
Lost this one in my inbox but DW's inbox had it!
[Haha, not so cool when someone Else does it, is it Jim? Is this how his people feel every time there's a Situation??]
I can see the sign for 50th St station across the way. There's a car hanging out of a boutique front window so mind the broken glass.
[In this case cooperating means he'll be able to get Matt somewhere safe quicker too. He sure as hell doesn't know his way around the area so running off to find the blind man? Not smart.]
stupid inbox!
[With this kind of chaos, Matt wouldn't have been able to sit it out anyway but now? Yeah, no chance. Sorry Jim, you're just going to have to deal with it.]
Alright, I'm on it. Just stay safe and I'll find you. I might have some explaining to do when that happens but just keep an open mind.
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[He just hates that feeling of his heart being jammed up into his throat trying to imagine Matt and his cane navigating out here while he's taking cover with this poor guy behind the half overturned car.
At least they managed to get out of the window finally. The webbing has the rest of the car firmly held upright.]
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It takes longer than he would like. There's carnage so he has to stop a few times to do quick search and rescue when he can hear a heartbeat behind rubble.
Eventually he gets street level across from the station and he picks up Jim's cologne and the smell of the soap he uses so Matt can find him and the driver hiding behind the shell of car. Well. Now or never. He approaches with heavy boots crushing across shattered glass.]
This way. You're going to have to follow me.
[The driver is thrilled; Daredevil is here to save them.]
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Thank fuck. You have no idea how...
[When he turns around he trails off. Blinks. Looks around then back at the guy in the outfit in front of him. The little hamster wheel upstairs is starting to smoke.]
Uh.
[No no, it's cool. He's one of the good guys, the driver is quick to explain. Jim drags his tongue along his lower lip, clearly debating on what if anything to say before he just nods.]
Right. Sorry. Lead the way.
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Matt surveys the street around them and the sounds that map the world for him. A path comes to focus.]
I'm going to get you to the subway--
[He doesn't finish the thought before he hears something barreling down the below them, presumably in the tunnels, and it very much is not a train. Jim and the driver would hear nothing.]
Nope, reverse that. That's where the monsters headed. So. New plan. We're close to Clinton Church. It'll be safe there. Stay close to me.
[With that, Matt starts to move with his attention on the two men with him. He's going to have a lot of explaining to do but he can do that after Jim and the driver are safe in the basement of the church.]
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The driver might ask if Daredevil is certain given the subway entrance is Right there. But Jim just makes a soft, noncommittal sound in the affirmation and falls into step. The last half hour has been a Lot for him to take in.]
We're with you. Uh. Sir.
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The streets are a maze of broken glass, destroyed cars and wreckage. Not ideal. He tries to keep them close to the buildings so they're not just walking down the middle of the street as open targets. It means dodging the occasional bits of falling debris and glass but Matt moves them to-and-fro, telling them to stop or to move to the right and left to avoid danger. When they're in what is essentially a straight shot down the block to the church, Matt hears the rumbling under the sidewalk. Shit.]
Run. As fast as you can.
[He gets the words out just before the concrete behind them buckles]