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."
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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."