That reminds Lonán of so many of the stories his father used to tell him when he was growing up. As a beat cop, the older Burke almost always knew the young men he was sent to arrest. He'd come home after his shift and regale the family with stories of their woes, which eventually gave way to idle threats that the children ought to keep their own asses in line and not embarrass the family by ending up like old so-and-so. But by the end of the night, when the man was a few beers deep, he'd always come back around to striking an affectionate stance on the riffraff of his city; how those guys had been such good kids and what a shame it was to see all that wasted potential.
Lonán thinks he can see it in Matthew's smile — the same world-weary affection he's got for the guys who just can't seem to keep themselves from trouble and the plainly ridiculous excuses they come up with to buy themselves another day.
"What about lack of culpable intent?" he offers offhandedly. "Argue no mens rea, if your client can keep his mouth shut. He'd already been overserved; he really thought he'd already paid."
These days it is infinitely more amusing to discuss others' professional issues than his own. Lonán keeps entertaining these flights of fancy that he might make a dramatic mid-career change, but the BAR truly has him in golden handcuffs.
"Their experiences, mostly," he says in the least helpful way possible. The man draws in a sharper breath — barely a perceptible one — and reaches for his beer. So maybe it's not a nervous tell, maybe it's just pain. Possibly a little both. "I don't mean to be vague," he continues after a sip. "It just varies. Part of the Bureau's job is to evaluate novel phenomena and understand its history. Imagine a new species of animal, for example. Someone reports having seen something that they can't quite identify, and we try to learn as much as we can. How would they describe the encounter? Were there any familiar features? What did the behavior remind them of? Sometimes what people describe may be totally unfamiliar to them, but people who have lived in the area of encounter for a long time could already have a name for it. Stories, folklore, an entire mythology, you know? Part of what I do is to meet with those people and gather those stories. I'll do my best to get as much information from them as I can. Sometimes I meet someone who's already had contact with what we're trying to identify. Sometimes they're willing to help make an introduction."
He knows that the people he tends to get in these cases, even if they are repeat offenders for pointless crimes, aren't bad people deep down. Sometimes they're broken from one thing or another, or they never really had a chance to get it right, and for as much as he might joke about the rather silly defense suggestion, he will and forever does the best he can for his clients. Maybe one of these times, it'll stick and it'll be the last time that their name crosses his docket.
"Now that's spoken like a lawyer," he remarks before taking another sip of his beer. "And considering you said that this job wasn't your initial field of study…my god, have I attracted another lawyer? Should I be breaking for the exit?" he asks, though the bright smile that accompanies it suggests that he's certainly not in a hurry.
He can't imagine that his day in defense of petty criminals and mild negotiations with the DA's office over probation and time served is really all that interesting to most people, let alone someone who was apparently a lawyer in a former life.
There's something there in a pull of breath but Matt doesn't chase it. It's not a lie, exactly. Obfuscation. Probably not unusual for a fed.
"Hm. Eye witness accounts are questionable at the best of times and then to have someone try to identify something that is unfamiliar to them seems like a sizable hurdle to climb. Taking into account shock, fear, even, and that muddies the waters all the more. Excluding the people who would tell lies about that sort of thing for the attention, who I'm sure have picture-perfect 'memories' and stories to tell." He's not unaccustomed to liars, but he has a decided advantage in that. "An introduction. What, to a vampire? How does one exactly go about arranging a meeting with anomalous things?" he jokes. Or maybe it isn't one.
"No, God no, don't do that." Lonán is all easy laughter as he reaches across the table and grips Matt's forearm briefly, like that might be enough to physically prevent him from a swift exit. His hand withdraws less than a second later, but it's more information from which to form a picture. Lonán's fingers are abnormally slender but they're also long, so he's probably decently tall. In reality, at 6'2" with a size 13 shoe, he's a pretty big guy. Save for that stubborn index finger, the rest grasp firmly in the squeeze. "I'm about a decade past due on my bar administrative fees, so I don't think you're allowed to call me that anymore."
But he's not denying his history, either. "I practiced international law for the Department of Justice for a while," he clarifies. The shrug in his shoulders is present in his voice; it's clear that Lonán has something to gain by considering this part of his history in the distant past. Perhaps just motivation to keep his eyes fixed firmly ahead of him now, instead of wanting for that sense of innocence he's not likely to get back, outside of an amnesic event.
He sips his beer as Matthew runs himself through a highlight reel of the biggest points of contention for detractors. "I'm fortunate to have a great team that handles most issues of credibility. By the time something ends up on my desk, it's been thoroughly vetted. But you're absolutely right about the rest; memory is a fallible thing. And we may never get the sample size required for true scientific certainty. But every great venture starts somewhere, right?"
To the rest, Lonán just laughs. "I'd love to meet a vampire," he says earnestly. "You know any?" And maybe this, too, is part-answer.
The grip tells its own story, both in size and how Matt can feel the engagement of muscles in the touch. He can tell where there is strength and where there isn't in the contact that remains for just a moment and comes off while Matt is chuckling at the whole joke. "Maybe not officially a lawyer anymore, fine. But that's a hell of a thing to walk away from for a whole new career and a whole new degree," he points out. Considering the amount of work that they both know is put into that law degree and passing the bar in the first place, to do an about-face like the one that Lonán is describing means that either it was a passion of some kind or an offer he couldn't refuse.
He knows he's not telling Lonán anything he doesn't already know about the nature of eyewitnesses and the unreliable nature of people in general but it's more as a conversational starting point to know that Matt is a few yards ahead of where most would be on the topic through his experience. There's no need to walk back to a novice level when Matt's at intermediate. "It does, but I've seen cases won and lost on the backs of eyewitness testimony so I imagine that you're better served by more empirical evidence of unknown phenomena. Isn't it all over Youtube now? People capturing footage of others doing strange and unusual things? So I hear, anyway." That's probably where the metahumans part comes in from the list of topics that Lonán has taken an interest in.
"No vampires here. I would have said you could insert a bloodsucking lawyer joke here but maybe that'd be telling on yourself, despite your lapsed dues."
"Well, I didn't walk away..." Lonán knows better than to swing at every pitch, but sometimes he just can't resist. There's a natural warmth in his tone that invites no apology or revision; this is just his way of filling in the details of his life. Of placing this experience in its rightful spot on the timeline of his life. "I wasn't exactly given the option," he admits a moment later. "Golden handcuffs, you know? Plus they paid for the PhD, so it was essentially a no-lose situation."
Don't be fooled; he's lost plenty. But at the very least, this gives Matthew the opportunity to experience what it's like when Lonán Burke lies — at least when it comes to the little things. Most of the neurological wires in the man's body have betrayed him at some point or another. They're held together largely by a wing and a prayer and a cocktail of prescriptions. His respiration is already an erratic thing all on its own, and though his heartbeat is a passable metronome, it remains pretty unchanged. It's the squirming that does it; the almost unconscious need to find a space to occupy outside the boundaries of his own body.
"I think the precursor to all of that is developing trust. I know a badge and a sensitivity level designation raises hackles, and I won't deny it's for good reason. The federal government has a long history of not just failing to protect its most vulnerable, but actively perpetuating harm. So, enter me."
Here he smacks his pushrims with the heels of both hands. It's hard to say if this is cruel self-deprecation or an actual admission of one of the reasons he was chosen for this job. Lonán knows he's damn good at it; he can't deny he's also a disarming presence.
"My official title is Principal Liaison, but I'd like to say I'm more of an ambassador. Maybe that's too aspirational at the moment, but I hope to get there one day."
"Well. I blindly blundered into that one. You'd think I'd be used to it." Let it never be said that he, too, can't laugh at himself and make the obvious blind joke when the opening presents itself.
A lie. Interesting, though he doesn't exactly know what the fib is intended to protect. It doesn't necessarily matter; it's not an interrogation and he's not trying to get covert information out of the man. He also can't take it personally, given his own propensity toward lies to cover parts of his own life that would make him a sizeable hypocrite if he took issue with every white lie and deflection he encountered. He tends to allow people grace in theirs because his assumptions are either it's for a good reason, or an irrelevant one that has more to do with self image than anything else. He doesn't begrudge anyone that.
"That's a very polite way of describing the massive amounts of harm that has been funded by tax payer dollars, but go on." He's teasing. A little bit. The smile that accompanies it should take any weight out of the barb that comes with it.
He can see why Lonán would have a position like that, even in the brief time that they have been in one another's presence. He's got a calm demeanor about him, even when he's lying a little bit, and an affable nature that would stand in contrast to the typical image of a suited up federal agent like the kinds in movies.
"So who are you liasoning with, or is that classified? Anything I should be worried about in my city?" There is a reason for a question like that; if there's a threat, it would be good to know, even if it's a hint around the frayed edges that he would have to piece together later.
"I know there are plenty of folks who'd rather I dismantle the system from its foundation rather than try to find a way to work within it, but I genuinely love what I do." Not a word of a lie to be detected, because Lonán has disappeared into that part of his soul that holds so much affection for the pathos behind his work. Maybe this is how he does it — he lives in the contradictions and in the paradoxes, thrives in the massive swaths of gray between right and wrong.
The question draws a snort of a laugh through his nose, because he really does hate to be so predictable. But: "That's classified." Lonán drains the dregs of his beer and wedges the empty pint between his knees. "I don't want to poison any wells or actively encourage paranoia, but I meant what I said before. The biggest threat to humanity is humans. Our massive fucking egos; our penchant to root out and destroy the slightest difference or variation."
It should be damn clear where Lonán Burke sits on the issue of any lingering whispers of a 'mutant crisis.' He rubs his knees and gestures back at the bar on reflex. "I'm going to get another round. Can I grab you one?"
"I don't know if you can blame anyone who thinks that there's systemic rot in the systems that this country was founded on but at the same time, starting from scratch is one of those pipe dreams that doesn't come from any kind of realistic starting point. There's no magic erase button so the only way to do anything of value is within those confines until they can be nudged in the right direction," he answers. It's much of how he views the law; he knows who it favors and who it doesn't but he can't change the whole of the system on his own so he works within it to do the best he can. And then maybe supplement that work with extracurricular activities that he's obviously not going to talk about.
It earns a smile. "You'll find that I'm not a very paranoid person." Probably because he knows exactly who's after him at any given time. But he does agree with the principle that Lonán is repeating about the great source of potential downfall in people. "What's the Lincoln line? "If destruction be our lot, then we must ourselves be its author and finisher.' Different context, but I think about it sometimes."
He finishes the last sip of his beer and slides the empty aside while picking up that there seems like there's something on his mind. "I've got this round," he answers before pushing himself up out of his chair to head to the bar. Maybe to give Lonán a few moments to think about what was apparently on his mind enough to form what appeared to be a small nervous tick. Maybe he's reading too much, but either way, he's happy to get the next couple of beers.
Lonán doesn't try to stop Matthew, though he does angle himself to watch the man's retreat up to the bar. The way he navigates the space with practiced ease is not in itself the least bit surprising. He assumes, after all, that Matt selected this place in part because it's a favored spot. There's no doubt that this is far from his first time drinking at this particular dive. But how he'll manage with two beers in his hand is a genuine point of curiosity for Lonán, and he gives himself permission to watch. Human adaptation is, after all, a point of both professional and personal curiosity for him.
The bartender is well into pulling their pints when Lonán fashions his lips and whistles loud and sharp, in a manner usually reserved for sporting events or open-air concerts. It draws a few eyes, but he raises his arm and waves it to catch the attention of the woman behind the tap. "Those on my tab," he calls, and draws a demonstrative link between him and Matt with a hand gesture. You might've fetched this round, Matthew, but Lonán's going to fight you to pay.
He slides his empty glass back onto the table and does a weight shift as he watches. He's enjoying this conversation. The other man is asking good questions and Lonán likes that he's holding his feet to the proverbial flame. It bodes well. Part of him is hesitant to risk ruining what feels like it could be a genuinely positive professional connection. But when Matt returns with the next round, he's prepared with a question:
"What do you worry about, when it comes to your city?"
He knows this bar like the back of his hand, of course, but he also doesn't need to. Everything forms a picture in his head as sound bounces off wood and tile, voices carry and the concrete slab of walls creates a chamber for all of the noise to carry until it becomes clear. Still, he holds his hand out a few inches from his torso to give the appearance of feeling through air for obstacles that he knows aren't really there. No one tends to pay it much mind; he's a regular, for one thing, and another point that he has always known is that people with good manners feel a shame about staring at a blind man.
He does smile when the tab is apparently called in and he offers a shrug of approval before putting his wallet away. He decides against an argument, especially one that's over a few cheap beers since this place doesn't charge out the usual Manhattan pricing.
With a beer in each hand, he walks back toward the table, using his foot to tap out sound with slow steps to give the appearance of feeling his way. Once he reaches his destination, he puts the beers down and slides back into his chair with minimal effort. The question makes him consider for a moment while taking a sip. "The usual answer is crime, but the sort that originates from festering rot at the top instead of what people usually concern themselves with because the lines of cause and effect aren't always obvious. I worry about my neighborhood and the people living in it and wanting them to be protected and safe enough that they can achieve without needing to be afraid. The Kitchen has gotten better in the last decade, but there's still work to be done." Street crime is down for a specific reason. A lot of people think twice before causing trouble in the neighborhood that everyone knows is protected by the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.
"The prodigal son returns," Lonán laughs appreciatively when Matthew has very nearly made it back to their table. It's a subtle, unspoken effort to help orient the man — almost understated enough to pass without conscious realization. As is the hand that comes to rest momentarily on Matt's back when he's within a single pace of the table. All things intended to help align him to his environment without drawing attention to the effort. Lonán regards it similarly to the way some friends always twist off his beer cap before passing the bottle to him, or when he uses their shoulder to boost himself up. None of it is explicitly necessary, but it feels a little like subversive community-building.
He slides his beer in front of him, but just holds it for a few moments. Lonán is much more interested in the other man's answer than he is in getting back to drinking. And here, too, everything is connected. Tugging on one thread only reveals the way the issues are woven together. But when Matthew insinuates that something is turning the tide, he smiles and leans forward.
"I've read a little about that," he prompts in a way he thinks is subtle. But there's a subtle eagerness in Lonán's cadence now, and the almost melodic quality of his voice can't be blamed on a single round alone. No, he's hungry for a story. "Vigilantism, right? As a defense attorney you must have some thoughts."
Matt recognizes the action for what it is, even if it's intended to be subtle, and it's appreciated since obviously, his own abilities aren't known and there's no reason to think that he wouldn't need the additional assistance. Just because he is able to easily move in the world with abilities that go far beyond the norm, he can still respect that Lonán is looking out for him in a way that comes across as respectful and subtle.
The topic isn't a surprising one and he knows he opened the door to it with his choice of phrasing, but if anyone knows anything about the Kitchen outside of their neighborhood in New York, it's because of the way that Daredevil splashes across headlines that go beyond it.
"I don't need to be a defense attorney to have a position on vigilantism in the city that I live in but in my professional opinion, given that I've defended multiple so-called vigilantes in court over the years, my feelings are generally that this city is bleeding and sometimes the law is a bandaid on a bullet wound." He's not certain if Lonán will be surprised by the response, but it's simple enough and one that is shared in his neighborhood, if not broadly across New York. "If there is no recourse in courtrooms for men who sit on thrones above this city and rain down misery, eventually something is going to break. I sleep better at night than I used to."
Sleep was harder to come by when he was trying to drown out the pleas of the city instead of answering them.
They both know this; Matthew may not realize that Lonán already knows this, but the man's criminal defense record and the clients whose stories he has told through his defense of them are all part of the deeper reason for this meeting. So when the other man brings it up all on his own, Lonán's pulse does quicken a touch. His respiration, too. And maybe Matt doesn't need a clear picture of the planes of his face to hear in his voice that he's smiling that dimpled smile — the one that unabashedly reveals a charmingly crooked incisor.
"So, four hours of sleep instead of the requisite three?" he laughs encouragingly, damn sure that for men like the two of them, the idea of better sleep is all relative. Lonán takes a sip from his glass and lets the words and his heart rate settle again, gazing at the man across the table. He's historically not great at eye contact — a perplexing disadvantage for a man who interviews people as part of his professional career — but he smiles at Matt now in an effort to determine what his own tells might be. Where he holds his tension; what his face does when he's talking around things instead of about them.
"It sounds like you contend that refusing to act is actually less ethical than acting outside the scope of the law." Another wash of beer, but this time when he sets it on the table Lonán twists the glass in a circle of its own condensation. "Do you think people who are ostensibly more capable — stronger, faster, more invulnerable — owe the rest of us that protection?"
Lonán's reaction is interesting, but one easily ascribed to the sort of excitement that people have about the vigilantes of New York and if Matt has the connection that he does, of course it would garner attention along the way.
"I differentiate between people who are inherently advantaged in some way and those who decide to follow a trend. We've had some wanna-be kids in hockey pads who took a couple of karate classes at the YMCA and obviously, I'm excluding them from the narrative here." He recognizes that vigilantism is its own social contagion and that people who do not hold the skills to do the things that Matt does have tried in either a pursuit of what they hope is a higher calling or for the likes on Tiktok. Still, it feels important to draw the line in the conversation.
"I am of the belief that the adage is true and that for evil to triumph, all it takes is good men doing nothing. Particularly in the case where someone has the abilities to do something. I hold no expectations of the average man and woman on the street but it's my understanding that vigilantes like Daredevil, for instance in speaking of our local one, appears to be pretty good at fighting people and he was instrumental in taking down a shared enemy of ours in Wilson Fisk, so I'm not going to complain."
His expression offers no tells of the lies that he's telling, because they are couched in a truth of sorts. If he can differentiate those parts of himself in the stories, and he tends to be able to after so many years of experience, he can speak freely enough on the matter.
"I don't know about 'owing' us because these people have their own lives, their own loved ones, their own concerns. But if some of them feel a calling to help, I'm not going to say no to a helping hand."
"You've worked with Daredevil quite a bit, haven't you?"
It's difficult to say whether or not this is a slip, or an intentional revealing. Lonán and Matthew are basically strangers, but it's been a full day since they last spoke and the other man did encourage him to Google things on multiple occasions throughout their conversations. It's entirely possible that Lonán simply took the suggestion to do some research, and has come with questions about what he's learned.
He doesn't really need this validated, since it's an answer he's already sure of, so he doesn't let it linger for very long before moving onto the thing he feels infinitely more curious about.
"Do you think vigilantism is a viable container for what's being done? Or, have you thought much about a framework for legitimizing and mobilizing that kind of movement? Give Daredevil — as an example — the social and legal benefits and protections to be who he is without the need for the mask?"
That's a giveaway and Matt does arch his brow over the rim of his glasses at the remark. His name has been tied with the vigilante's by association of taking down Fisk in the past and it's an easy Google search away, but it does make clear that Lonán has done some digging. He can respect that, given the nature of a meeting like this but it does lend itself to the idea that the topics now being put on the table aren't necessarily by accident. Matt might have been the first to bring up vigilantes because of his worries for the city but even that question probably had some framing to it. It does put his guard up, but minutely, given that it's in place all of the time when the topic of Daredevil arises.
"He and I have mutual interests in the form of a certain criminal," he answers with a wave of his hand before reaching for his beer once more.
He shakes his head at the question. "These people wear masks for a reason and it goes beyond the legalities of what they do. Some choose to make their identities known but others choose to hide it for more than just the concern that they will face jail time. A secret identity protects their friends and loved ones from reprisals, for one thing, and that's not something that can be guaranteed in the framework you're discussing. I fail to see what would be gained, taking Daredevil as an example, if his life was put out in the open. I would think that would be a deterrence from helping instead of encouragement."
Matthew Murdock would like to dispense with this line of questioning as quickly and efficiently as possible. Lonán can see that, though the reasons why remain something of a mystery to him. It's entirely possible that he's simply tired of being used as an intermediary to the man himself. That would undoubtedly get tiresome, to never know if people are approaching because of an interest in you or one of the men you represent. For now, Lonán decides it would be wiser to back off the Daredevil angle, though he files away little bits of information. Like how Matt is suddenly more physically animated when he's uncomfortable with something. Is there an unconscious effort to distract with that dismissive hand wave, or a subconscious desire to make himself more imposing by taking up more space?
"So you'd support Immigration and Customs Enforcement being allowed to continue masking for the same reason?" It is absolutely intended to be incendiary, but Lonán sits back and sips his beer like it's the most casual conversation in the world. Like, following Matthew's logic, every person acting inside or outside the expressed boundaries of the law ought to have the right to ensure anonymity for the sake of their loved ones.
"You talked earlier about nudging systems in the right direction, didn't you? How do you know what kind of framework I'm discussing? I don't even know what kind of framework I'm discussing. But I'd like a hand in building it, wouldn't you?"
He's not uncomfortable with the topic necessarily, but he is dismissive of the argument that is being made, particularly more so when that comparison is made.
"You're discussing apples and oranges; if it's got a legal name, federal funding, a steady paycheck and documented requirements, one would presume that it would be mandated to operate within the law and those requirements. This isn't Daredevil's job the same way it's some police officer's occupation to patrol the streets; it's something he's chosen to do and also within a moral code. For one thing? He's never killed anyone and he doesn't terrorize children and communities." It seems like a pretty important distinction to make, though he recognizes an incendiary argument when one is attempted to be thrown at him.
"My presumption is based on your previous comment on social and legal benefits to allow a vigilante to operate in the light instead of the shadow. My point is simply that you're extrapolating a very specific and, as I know, incorrect assumption that the only reason that these people wear masks is to protect themselves from the law." It helps, but it's not the sole reason why Matt would still prefer his identity remain hidden. "You're also talking about a very specific potential safe harbor. There's no guarantee of state and federal cooperation and agreement on legalities. Why would he, or any of them, trust the government to provide that? I certainly wouldn't, given its history."
"So what's the point of even having laws, if only those charged with upholding them are expected to adhere to them? You know what else it has, in addition to everything you mentioned? Mandated training. What training has Daredevil had on the use-of-force continuum? Nonviolent deescalation? Community mental health? How do I as a disabled guy trust that if I were to ever experience a psychotic break that Daredevil would have any clue how to minimize risk of injury while subduing me?"
He fucking loves this. It's a specific kind of mental stimulation that Lonán has not had the opportunity to experience in a very long time, and he's eating it up now that he's sitting across from Matthew Murdock. So much so that he can almost forget his specific aims for this meeting. The jukebox is crooning, the beer is good, the floors are just the right amount of disgustingly tacky against his wheels, and Lonán easily feels himself transported back to his law school days. Sitting around bars in his own city with a few good friends from his cohort, swapping positions and arguing for sides they'd never lodge a moral defense of otherwise.
"It is the furthest thing from my intent to claim that the only reason anyone puts on a mask is to protect themselves from the law."
Here, his voice takes on a different quality. Less Chicago nasalization and fast-paced, eager cadence and more of that refined, generalized American English so popular among politicians.
"I can't begin to imagine all of the reasons a person might have, and I wouldn't presume to try. That is why I conduct interviews, Mr. Murdock. That is why I prefer to speak to primary sources. Because I think for too long, the law has been written outside the interests of those it purports to represent. And I don't want to do that in my department."
"I think you judge a tree by its fruits. I'd contend that his record speaks for itself in that regard. You can ask people in the community about it, if you'd like to take a sampling, about how he treats individuals who are in clear need of psychological help compared to those who are breaking the law for profit and gain. Similarly, how deescalation happens even just because he shows up at all and how each situation varies based on the players. I'd trust his handling of a mental health crisis a lot more than the NYPD, going off of track record. Not the least of reasons being that he doesn't carry a gun." It's strange but not unusual to speak of his actions in a third person and defend them as such. He keeps it together with an even balance that is no more passionate than any other argument he might make as a lawyer about anything unrelated to him.
All it comes across as is a lawyer who has taken a position and probably an unsurprising one, given the fact that he has represented vigilantes or those adjacent in the past.
"That's all very noble of you but the fact remains that the law is not built for men like that and it never will be. Besides, I don't know what interest your area would have in him. He's not anomalous. He's just a guy in a suit. He doesn't fly or have magic powers or whatever else they do these days."
That does seem to be a point that confuses him but he knows that there are always rumors of powers and abilities that the Devil of Hell's Kitchen might have, though no one has ever seemingly guessed correctly. He doesn't know why Lonán's group would have any interest in Daredevil, given that for all intents and purposes, he's very human.
"Were you lying to me, then, when you said that since there's not a 'magic erase button,' the only thing of value we can do is find a way to work within the confines of the structures that currently exist? Or do you just believe that some people exist so far beyond the confines of the law that we shouldn't even bother to limit their actions? I wonder, who would get the benefit of a life totally free of societal obligation? Would you propose some kind of moral fitness exam? Whose morals would you suggest we uphold as the pinnacle of all human behavior? And would you recommend we subject every living being to this test, or just those who want to become vigilantes? And if they fail spectacularly — as you and I both know that some would — would we just allow them to go about their day and ignore the fact that test might have unwittingly uncovered the next genocidal maniac in our midst?"
If it seems like an awful lot of questions, this is just a small sampling of the ethical quandaries Lonán is tasked with pondering every single day. Knowing that any decision he recommends or action he authorizes might bring with it an avalanche of unintended consequences. Most people, he thinks, mean to do good. Most people do not pass through the world with a desire to actively harm those around them, even when their actions might have that impact. Things simply progress beyond their control, and the most altruistic of intentions can have the most brutal consequences if people aren't careful.
"You were the one who brought up vigilantes, weren't you?" True that Lonán might have introduced the horned crusader into the equation, but he'd like to play this as if he were only following a bread crumb trail first laid by Matt himself. "If we're having this conversation about Daredevil, imagine the discussion that could be had around the Hulk, or Luke Cage. But you haven't represented either of them, have you?"
"I can only presume that you offer a cavalcade of questions without any expectation of answering them and it's just an attempt at laying smoke to an argument. I've seen those tricks before," he points out with a flash of a smile. It muddies the waters when there is a slew of questions to be asked on top of each other because it's always intended to put the receiver on the backfoot. Matt has no intention of stumbling. "You're living in a very hypothetical scenario of what you would do or what you would think about instead of the practicality that these individuals currently live in and none of your questions get at the heart of the fact that if you try to regulate individuals like that, who wish to keep their identities a secret, you will lose all protections offered by them as they go underground. There are always going to be maniacs but your apparent solution of any kind of government interference is just going to drive away those who can actually stop it."
To him, this is all just the sort of hypotheticals that get brought up once in a while as lipservice is paid to regulation until a disaster sparks and it's recognized that red tape doesn't save lives.
"I've represented Mr. Cage briefly…in a traffic ticket. I assure you that he does not double park as the court contended and it was thrown out accordingly," he says with a faint smirk, "And I've demolished Bruce Banner's cousin in court over a superhero costume because her client was an idiot. I'm told that she was green at the time. My understanding is that Jennifer would handle any of his legal quandaries, or that would be provided by the whole Avengers apparatus so I wouldn't qualify him as a vigilante. We should make that distinction clear. The Avengers have a trademark and they sell Incredible Hulk lunch boxes. What I'm talking about are people at the street level who just want to help a neighborhood, not save the world."
"I absolutely assure you, Mr. Murdock, that none of these questions are hypotheticals in my world."
But Lonán is beginning to sense that any hope of conversation with Matthew on the broader implications of this — for the law, for science, for humanity in general — is a total non-starter. Fair enough. He'd come to the bar expecting a nightcap, not a total ambush. Lonán can hardly blame him if he's not in the mood to play ball, especially at the end of an ostensibly frustrating day.
Unfortunately, that doesn't mean he hasn't worked himself up contemplating the possibilities. Even though he's saying nothing at all at present, Lonán's breathing has gone just slightly erratic. He doesn't notice it himself, but Matt might have the advantage there, too — if he can make out the faint tinny sound of his company's heel wobbling on the metal footplate of his chair. It takes a few more sips of his beer before he catches the way his left knee is bouncing and reaches down to try to bring the gentle spasm under control.
Breathe, Lonán. Don't let it ruin your night. You're still in a perfectly pleasant bar having a cold beer with a fascinating man. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, sparing a moment to listen to the conversations around him. The jukebox is playing now, and the music filters into his conscious awareness and makes Lonán grin.
"I fucking love this song. 'You think that I'm normal. All these years, I'm just trying to warn ya...'" he sings along, quiet but soulful.
"Every scenario you've offered is hypothetical because you don't know these people. It's all words on a page until it actually affects real people with real lives," he says and leaves it at that. In the end, Matt has no particular interest in driving a policy that changes the status quo of his world; the vigilantes of New York work in their current state, as he sees it, with the exception of the ones who are doing it for some kind of social media clout. He excludes them from the narrative completely, given a lack of skills, impact and determinism. It leaves people like him and he sees no reason to upturn that particular apple cart just because, as usual, the government can't leave well enough alone. His interests aren't in the broad world beyond, but instead nestled into his square blocks of the city that he calls his home.
It does feel like there is some sort of additional excitement in this for Lonán that Matt wasn't initially expecting, if his breathing and the shifting in his chair is any indication. It could be any number of things but it does start to enter the back of his mind that this might not have been so happenstance of a meeting. Suspicions have gone up, though one would never know it by looking at him while he sips his beer.
"I don't know it," he says of the song. He does recognize it as an attempt to change the subject but he's not so sure he's willing to let go. "Was it your Google search that tied my name to the vigilantes of New York? That was a long time ago. I'm surprised it's still on the front page."
He's had bigger cases since then. But it's a test. A direct question, waiting for a truth or a lie.
"You're right; I don't know these people," Lonán agrees easily. He is not typically the sort of man to claim credentials he doesn't possess for the hopes of elevating his own status. People thinks he asks questions to be argumentative, to play the devil's advocate. Lonán asks questions because he genuinely wants to find the answers. "I know that New York must feel like the center of your universe, but there's a lot of land out there that exists between it and California and DC. A lot of people in that land who deserve representation, too. So no, I don't know these people. But I'd like to, Mr. Murdock. Very much. Because I do know others. And I can guarantee you, a change is coming. And men like you and I know well enough there's no such thing as an apolitical existence. You can stick your head as far into the sand as you want, but it's going to effect you whether you lend your voice to the conversation or let it happen without you."
It is abundantly apparent that any goodwill their initial conversation may have granted him has long since evaporated in the mind of Matt Murdock. Lonán can't say he isn't used to this, but he is disappointed. I've sacrificed a lot, he'd reminded himself earlier. And maybe this is a part of that: the loss of opportunity to ever really be liked by anyone anymore. He won't go as far as to say he's sold his soul to the devil, because he's trying like hell to implement the kind of change that will assure that never has to happen.
Matt's next question is met with a breathless sounding laugh. Still genuinely amused, though some of the real delight he'd had earlier appears to have evaporated. "What makes you think I stopped at the front page news? That's all splash and sensationalism. The good stuff's always hidden between the margins, right?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Lonán thinks he can see it in Matthew's smile — the same world-weary affection he's got for the guys who just can't seem to keep themselves from trouble and the plainly ridiculous excuses they come up with to buy themselves another day.
"What about lack of culpable intent?" he offers offhandedly. "Argue no mens rea, if your client can keep his mouth shut. He'd already been overserved; he really thought he'd already paid."
These days it is infinitely more amusing to discuss others' professional issues than his own. Lonán keeps entertaining these flights of fancy that he might make a dramatic mid-career change, but the BAR truly has him in golden handcuffs.
"Their experiences, mostly," he says in the least helpful way possible. The man draws in a sharper breath — barely a perceptible one — and reaches for his beer. So maybe it's not a nervous tell, maybe it's just pain. Possibly a little both. "I don't mean to be vague," he continues after a sip. "It just varies. Part of the Bureau's job is to evaluate novel phenomena and understand its history. Imagine a new species of animal, for example. Someone reports having seen something that they can't quite identify, and we try to learn as much as we can. How would they describe the encounter? Were there any familiar features? What did the behavior remind them of? Sometimes what people describe may be totally unfamiliar to them, but people who have lived in the area of encounter for a long time could already have a name for it. Stories, folklore, an entire mythology, you know? Part of what I do is to meet with those people and gather those stories. I'll do my best to get as much information from them as I can. Sometimes I meet someone who's already had contact with what we're trying to identify. Sometimes they're willing to help make an introduction."
no subject
"Now that's spoken like a lawyer," he remarks before taking another sip of his beer. "And considering you said that this job wasn't your initial field of study…my god, have I attracted another lawyer? Should I be breaking for the exit?" he asks, though the bright smile that accompanies it suggests that he's certainly not in a hurry.
He can't imagine that his day in defense of petty criminals and mild negotiations with the DA's office over probation and time served is really all that interesting to most people, let alone someone who was apparently a lawyer in a former life.
There's something there in a pull of breath but Matt doesn't chase it. It's not a lie, exactly. Obfuscation. Probably not unusual for a fed.
"Hm. Eye witness accounts are questionable at the best of times and then to have someone try to identify something that is unfamiliar to them seems like a sizable hurdle to climb. Taking into account shock, fear, even, and that muddies the waters all the more. Excluding the people who would tell lies about that sort of thing for the attention, who I'm sure have picture-perfect 'memories' and stories to tell." He's not unaccustomed to liars, but he has a decided advantage in that. "An introduction. What, to a vampire? How does one exactly go about arranging a meeting with anomalous things?" he jokes. Or maybe it isn't one.
no subject
But he's not denying his history, either. "I practiced international law for the Department of Justice for a while," he clarifies. The shrug in his shoulders is present in his voice; it's clear that Lonán has something to gain by considering this part of his history in the distant past. Perhaps just motivation to keep his eyes fixed firmly ahead of him now, instead of wanting for that sense of innocence he's not likely to get back, outside of an amnesic event.
He sips his beer as Matthew runs himself through a highlight reel of the biggest points of contention for detractors. "I'm fortunate to have a great team that handles most issues of credibility. By the time something ends up on my desk, it's been thoroughly vetted. But you're absolutely right about the rest; memory is a fallible thing. And we may never get the sample size required for true scientific certainty. But every great venture starts somewhere, right?"
To the rest, Lonán just laughs. "I'd love to meet a vampire," he says earnestly. "You know any?" And maybe this, too, is part-answer.
no subject
He knows he's not telling Lonán anything he doesn't already know about the nature of eyewitnesses and the unreliable nature of people in general but it's more as a conversational starting point to know that Matt is a few yards ahead of where most would be on the topic through his experience. There's no need to walk back to a novice level when Matt's at intermediate. "It does, but I've seen cases won and lost on the backs of eyewitness testimony so I imagine that you're better served by more empirical evidence of unknown phenomena. Isn't it all over Youtube now? People capturing footage of others doing strange and unusual things? So I hear, anyway." That's probably where the metahumans part comes in from the list of topics that Lonán has taken an interest in.
"No vampires here. I would have said you could insert a bloodsucking lawyer joke here but maybe that'd be telling on yourself, despite your lapsed dues."
no subject
Don't be fooled; he's lost plenty. But at the very least, this gives Matthew the opportunity to experience what it's like when Lonán Burke lies — at least when it comes to the little things. Most of the neurological wires in the man's body have betrayed him at some point or another. They're held together largely by a wing and a prayer and a cocktail of prescriptions. His respiration is already an erratic thing all on its own, and though his heartbeat is a passable metronome, it remains pretty unchanged. It's the squirming that does it; the almost unconscious need to find a space to occupy outside the boundaries of his own body.
"I think the precursor to all of that is developing trust. I know a badge and a sensitivity level designation raises hackles, and I won't deny it's for good reason. The federal government has a long history of not just failing to protect its most vulnerable, but actively perpetuating harm. So, enter me."
Here he smacks his pushrims with the heels of both hands. It's hard to say if this is cruel self-deprecation or an actual admission of one of the reasons he was chosen for this job. Lonán knows he's damn good at it; he can't deny he's also a disarming presence.
"My official title is Principal Liaison, but I'd like to say I'm more of an ambassador. Maybe that's too aspirational at the moment, but I hope to get there one day."
no subject
A lie. Interesting, though he doesn't exactly know what the fib is intended to protect. It doesn't necessarily matter; it's not an interrogation and he's not trying to get covert information out of the man. He also can't take it personally, given his own propensity toward lies to cover parts of his own life that would make him a sizeable hypocrite if he took issue with every white lie and deflection he encountered. He tends to allow people grace in theirs because his assumptions are either it's for a good reason, or an irrelevant one that has more to do with self image than anything else. He doesn't begrudge anyone that.
"That's a very polite way of describing the massive amounts of harm that has been funded by tax payer dollars, but go on." He's teasing. A little bit. The smile that accompanies it should take any weight out of the barb that comes with it.
He can see why Lonán would have a position like that, even in the brief time that they have been in one another's presence. He's got a calm demeanor about him, even when he's lying a little bit, and an affable nature that would stand in contrast to the typical image of a suited up federal agent like the kinds in movies.
"So who are you liasoning with, or is that classified? Anything I should be worried about in my city?" There is a reason for a question like that; if there's a threat, it would be good to know, even if it's a hint around the frayed edges that he would have to piece together later.
no subject
The question draws a snort of a laugh through his nose, because he really does hate to be so predictable. But: "That's classified." Lonán drains the dregs of his beer and wedges the empty pint between his knees. "I don't want to poison any wells or actively encourage paranoia, but I meant what I said before. The biggest threat to humanity is humans. Our massive fucking egos; our penchant to root out and destroy the slightest difference or variation."
It should be damn clear where Lonán Burke sits on the issue of any lingering whispers of a 'mutant crisis.' He rubs his knees and gestures back at the bar on reflex. "I'm going to get another round. Can I grab you one?"
no subject
It earns a smile. "You'll find that I'm not a very paranoid person." Probably because he knows exactly who's after him at any given time. But he does agree with the principle that Lonán is repeating about the great source of potential downfall in people. "What's the Lincoln line? "If destruction be our lot, then we must ourselves be its author and finisher.' Different context, but I think about it sometimes."
He finishes the last sip of his beer and slides the empty aside while picking up that there seems like there's something on his mind. "I've got this round," he answers before pushing himself up out of his chair to head to the bar. Maybe to give Lonán a few moments to think about what was apparently on his mind enough to form what appeared to be a small nervous tick. Maybe he's reading too much, but either way, he's happy to get the next couple of beers.
no subject
The bartender is well into pulling their pints when Lonán fashions his lips and whistles loud and sharp, in a manner usually reserved for sporting events or open-air concerts. It draws a few eyes, but he raises his arm and waves it to catch the attention of the woman behind the tap. "Those on my tab," he calls, and draws a demonstrative link between him and Matt with a hand gesture. You might've fetched this round, Matthew, but Lonán's going to fight you to pay.
He slides his empty glass back onto the table and does a weight shift as he watches. He's enjoying this conversation. The other man is asking good questions and Lonán likes that he's holding his feet to the proverbial flame. It bodes well. Part of him is hesitant to risk ruining what feels like it could be a genuinely positive professional connection. But when Matt returns with the next round, he's prepared with a question:
"What do you worry about, when it comes to your city?"
no subject
He does smile when the tab is apparently called in and he offers a shrug of approval before putting his wallet away. He decides against an argument, especially one that's over a few cheap beers since this place doesn't charge out the usual Manhattan pricing.
With a beer in each hand, he walks back toward the table, using his foot to tap out sound with slow steps to give the appearance of feeling his way. Once he reaches his destination, he puts the beers down and slides back into his chair with minimal effort. The question makes him consider for a moment while taking a sip. "The usual answer is crime, but the sort that originates from festering rot at the top instead of what people usually concern themselves with because the lines of cause and effect aren't always obvious. I worry about my neighborhood and the people living in it and wanting them to be protected and safe enough that they can achieve without needing to be afraid. The Kitchen has gotten better in the last decade, but there's still work to be done." Street crime is down for a specific reason. A lot of people think twice before causing trouble in the neighborhood that everyone knows is protected by the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.
no subject
He slides his beer in front of him, but just holds it for a few moments. Lonán is much more interested in the other man's answer than he is in getting back to drinking. And here, too, everything is connected. Tugging on one thread only reveals the way the issues are woven together. But when Matthew insinuates that something is turning the tide, he smiles and leans forward.
"I've read a little about that," he prompts in a way he thinks is subtle. But there's a subtle eagerness in Lonán's cadence now, and the almost melodic quality of his voice can't be blamed on a single round alone. No, he's hungry for a story. "Vigilantism, right? As a defense attorney you must have some thoughts."
no subject
The topic isn't a surprising one and he knows he opened the door to it with his choice of phrasing, but if anyone knows anything about the Kitchen outside of their neighborhood in New York, it's because of the way that Daredevil splashes across headlines that go beyond it.
"I don't need to be a defense attorney to have a position on vigilantism in the city that I live in but in my professional opinion, given that I've defended multiple so-called vigilantes in court over the years, my feelings are generally that this city is bleeding and sometimes the law is a bandaid on a bullet wound." He's not certain if Lonán will be surprised by the response, but it's simple enough and one that is shared in his neighborhood, if not broadly across New York. "If there is no recourse in courtrooms for men who sit on thrones above this city and rain down misery, eventually something is going to break. I sleep better at night than I used to."
Sleep was harder to come by when he was trying to drown out the pleas of the city instead of answering them.
no subject
They both know this; Matthew may not realize that Lonán already knows this, but the man's criminal defense record and the clients whose stories he has told through his defense of them are all part of the deeper reason for this meeting. So when the other man brings it up all on his own, Lonán's pulse does quicken a touch. His respiration, too. And maybe Matt doesn't need a clear picture of the planes of his face to hear in his voice that he's smiling that dimpled smile — the one that unabashedly reveals a charmingly crooked incisor.
"So, four hours of sleep instead of the requisite three?" he laughs encouragingly, damn sure that for men like the two of them, the idea of better sleep is all relative. Lonán takes a sip from his glass and lets the words and his heart rate settle again, gazing at the man across the table. He's historically not great at eye contact — a perplexing disadvantage for a man who interviews people as part of his professional career — but he smiles at Matt now in an effort to determine what his own tells might be. Where he holds his tension; what his face does when he's talking around things instead of about them.
"It sounds like you contend that refusing to act is actually less ethical than acting outside the scope of the law." Another wash of beer, but this time when he sets it on the table Lonán twists the glass in a circle of its own condensation. "Do you think people who are ostensibly more capable — stronger, faster, more invulnerable — owe the rest of us that protection?"
no subject
"I differentiate between people who are inherently advantaged in some way and those who decide to follow a trend. We've had some wanna-be kids in hockey pads who took a couple of karate classes at the YMCA and obviously, I'm excluding them from the narrative here." He recognizes that vigilantism is its own social contagion and that people who do not hold the skills to do the things that Matt does have tried in either a pursuit of what they hope is a higher calling or for the likes on Tiktok. Still, it feels important to draw the line in the conversation.
"I am of the belief that the adage is true and that for evil to triumph, all it takes is good men doing nothing. Particularly in the case where someone has the abilities to do something. I hold no expectations of the average man and woman on the street but it's my understanding that vigilantes like Daredevil, for instance in speaking of our local one, appears to be pretty good at fighting people and he was instrumental in taking down a shared enemy of ours in Wilson Fisk, so I'm not going to complain."
His expression offers no tells of the lies that he's telling, because they are couched in a truth of sorts. If he can differentiate those parts of himself in the stories, and he tends to be able to after so many years of experience, he can speak freely enough on the matter.
"I don't know about 'owing' us because these people have their own lives, their own loved ones, their own concerns. But if some of them feel a calling to help, I'm not going to say no to a helping hand."
no subject
It's difficult to say whether or not this is a slip, or an intentional revealing. Lonán and Matthew are basically strangers, but it's been a full day since they last spoke and the other man did encourage him to Google things on multiple occasions throughout their conversations. It's entirely possible that Lonán simply took the suggestion to do some research, and has come with questions about what he's learned.
He doesn't really need this validated, since it's an answer he's already sure of, so he doesn't let it linger for very long before moving onto the thing he feels infinitely more curious about.
"Do you think vigilantism is a viable container for what's being done? Or, have you thought much about a framework for legitimizing and mobilizing that kind of movement? Give Daredevil — as an example — the social and legal benefits and protections to be who he is without the need for the mask?"
no subject
"He and I have mutual interests in the form of a certain criminal," he answers with a wave of his hand before reaching for his beer once more.
He shakes his head at the question. "These people wear masks for a reason and it goes beyond the legalities of what they do. Some choose to make their identities known but others choose to hide it for more than just the concern that they will face jail time. A secret identity protects their friends and loved ones from reprisals, for one thing, and that's not something that can be guaranteed in the framework you're discussing. I fail to see what would be gained, taking Daredevil as an example, if his life was put out in the open. I would think that would be a deterrence from helping instead of encouragement."
no subject
"So you'd support Immigration and Customs Enforcement being allowed to continue masking for the same reason?" It is absolutely intended to be incendiary, but Lonán sits back and sips his beer like it's the most casual conversation in the world. Like, following Matthew's logic, every person acting inside or outside the expressed boundaries of the law ought to have the right to ensure anonymity for the sake of their loved ones.
"You talked earlier about nudging systems in the right direction, didn't you? How do you know what kind of framework I'm discussing? I don't even know what kind of framework I'm discussing. But I'd like a hand in building it, wouldn't you?"
no subject
"You're discussing apples and oranges; if it's got a legal name, federal funding, a steady paycheck and documented requirements, one would presume that it would be mandated to operate within the law and those requirements. This isn't Daredevil's job the same way it's some police officer's occupation to patrol the streets; it's something he's chosen to do and also within a moral code. For one thing? He's never killed anyone and he doesn't terrorize children and communities." It seems like a pretty important distinction to make, though he recognizes an incendiary argument when one is attempted to be thrown at him.
"My presumption is based on your previous comment on social and legal benefits to allow a vigilante to operate in the light instead of the shadow. My point is simply that you're extrapolating a very specific and, as I know, incorrect assumption that the only reason that these people wear masks is to protect themselves from the law." It helps, but it's not the sole reason why Matt would still prefer his identity remain hidden. "You're also talking about a very specific potential safe harbor. There's no guarantee of state and federal cooperation and agreement on legalities. Why would he, or any of them, trust the government to provide that? I certainly wouldn't, given its history."
no subject
He fucking loves this. It's a specific kind of mental stimulation that Lonán has not had the opportunity to experience in a very long time, and he's eating it up now that he's sitting across from Matthew Murdock. So much so that he can almost forget his specific aims for this meeting. The jukebox is crooning, the beer is good, the floors are just the right amount of disgustingly tacky against his wheels, and Lonán easily feels himself transported back to his law school days. Sitting around bars in his own city with a few good friends from his cohort, swapping positions and arguing for sides they'd never lodge a moral defense of otherwise.
"It is the furthest thing from my intent to claim that the only reason anyone puts on a mask is to protect themselves from the law."
Here, his voice takes on a different quality. Less Chicago nasalization and fast-paced, eager cadence and more of that refined, generalized American English so popular among politicians.
"I can't begin to imagine all of the reasons a person might have, and I wouldn't presume to try. That is why I conduct interviews, Mr. Murdock. That is why I prefer to speak to primary sources. Because I think for too long, the law has been written outside the interests of those it purports to represent. And I don't want to do that in my department."
no subject
All it comes across as is a lawyer who has taken a position and probably an unsurprising one, given the fact that he has represented vigilantes or those adjacent in the past.
"That's all very noble of you but the fact remains that the law is not built for men like that and it never will be. Besides, I don't know what interest your area would have in him. He's not anomalous. He's just a guy in a suit. He doesn't fly or have magic powers or whatever else they do these days."
That does seem to be a point that confuses him but he knows that there are always rumors of powers and abilities that the Devil of Hell's Kitchen might have, though no one has ever seemingly guessed correctly. He doesn't know why Lonán's group would have any interest in Daredevil, given that for all intents and purposes, he's very human.
no subject
If it seems like an awful lot of questions, this is just a small sampling of the ethical quandaries Lonán is tasked with pondering every single day. Knowing that any decision he recommends or action he authorizes might bring with it an avalanche of unintended consequences. Most people, he thinks, mean to do good. Most people do not pass through the world with a desire to actively harm those around them, even when their actions might have that impact. Things simply progress beyond their control, and the most altruistic of intentions can have the most brutal consequences if people aren't careful.
"You were the one who brought up vigilantes, weren't you?" True that Lonán might have introduced the horned crusader into the equation, but he'd like to play this as if he were only following a bread crumb trail first laid by Matt himself. "If we're having this conversation about Daredevil, imagine the discussion that could be had around the Hulk, or Luke Cage. But you haven't represented either of them, have you?"
no subject
To him, this is all just the sort of hypotheticals that get brought up once in a while as lipservice is paid to regulation until a disaster sparks and it's recognized that red tape doesn't save lives.
"I've represented Mr. Cage briefly…in a traffic ticket. I assure you that he does not double park as the court contended and it was thrown out accordingly," he says with a faint smirk, "And I've demolished Bruce Banner's cousin in court over a superhero costume because her client was an idiot. I'm told that she was green at the time. My understanding is that Jennifer would handle any of his legal quandaries, or that would be provided by the whole Avengers apparatus so I wouldn't qualify him as a vigilante. We should make that distinction clear. The Avengers have a trademark and they sell Incredible Hulk lunch boxes. What I'm talking about are people at the street level who just want to help a neighborhood, not save the world."
no subject
But Lonán is beginning to sense that any hope of conversation with Matthew on the broader implications of this — for the law, for science, for humanity in general — is a total non-starter. Fair enough. He'd come to the bar expecting a nightcap, not a total ambush. Lonán can hardly blame him if he's not in the mood to play ball, especially at the end of an ostensibly frustrating day.
Unfortunately, that doesn't mean he hasn't worked himself up contemplating the possibilities. Even though he's saying nothing at all at present, Lonán's breathing has gone just slightly erratic. He doesn't notice it himself, but Matt might have the advantage there, too — if he can make out the faint tinny sound of his company's heel wobbling on the metal footplate of his chair. It takes a few more sips of his beer before he catches the way his left knee is bouncing and reaches down to try to bring the gentle spasm under control.
Breathe, Lonán. Don't let it ruin your night. You're still in a perfectly pleasant bar having a cold beer with a fascinating man. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, sparing a moment to listen to the conversations around him. The jukebox is playing now, and the music filters into his conscious awareness and makes Lonán grin.
"I fucking love this song. 'You think that I'm normal. All these years, I'm just trying to warn ya...'" he sings along, quiet but soulful.
no subject
It does feel like there is some sort of additional excitement in this for Lonán that Matt wasn't initially expecting, if his breathing and the shifting in his chair is any indication. It could be any number of things but it does start to enter the back of his mind that this might not have been so happenstance of a meeting. Suspicions have gone up, though one would never know it by looking at him while he sips his beer.
"I don't know it," he says of the song. He does recognize it as an attempt to change the subject but he's not so sure he's willing to let go. "Was it your Google search that tied my name to the vigilantes of New York? That was a long time ago. I'm surprised it's still on the front page."
He's had bigger cases since then. But it's a test. A direct question, waiting for a truth or a lie.
no subject
It is abundantly apparent that any goodwill their initial conversation may have granted him has long since evaporated in the mind of Matt Murdock. Lonán can't say he isn't used to this, but he is disappointed. I've sacrificed a lot, he'd reminded himself earlier. And maybe this is a part of that: the loss of opportunity to ever really be liked by anyone anymore. He won't go as far as to say he's sold his soul to the devil, because he's trying like hell to implement the kind of change that will assure that never has to happen.
Matt's next question is met with a breathless sounding laugh. Still genuinely amused, though some of the real delight he'd had earlier appears to have evaporated. "What makes you think I stopped at the front page news? That's all splash and sensationalism. The good stuff's always hidden between the margins, right?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)