fightlikehell | (no subject)

What a way to come clean though. And not just in concept but in that's how it should be. Matt has always wanted to be upfront, to be honest. The degree of pride he has in his talents to conceal has diminished more and more with age. No one should have to die for the truth in a perfect world. So many people do in his world and hers.

"Don't hold back on my account." Laughing and comfort for now. Any trip to paradise is going to have turbulence. Or...wherever they're going. Matt just knows he wants in.

His fingers close carefully around hers as they step away from the dance floor. "See? Chivalry isn't dead, just protecting gourds." That's the better joke than insisting she's gourd-ous. Smooth move, Murdock.

"Right. Just... kind of comes naturally for me. I don't mean to say anything like you're not capable." Matt says a grin but... he means it.

The hiding places of youth will someday all be outgrown. Sometimes, you get bigger; sometimes, the world shrinks.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," she retorts with a smirk. Wherever they're going, she doesn't want to let go, but she's so scared of his leaving later when she's gotten used to the idea of his being around. It's easier to lose people in the beginning, before you need them. Isn't it?

And then he's distracting her from those thoughts, making her laugh and holding her hand, and suddenly she sounds so foolish. Even to herself. (The "gourd-ous" joke would have made her laugh too.) She shouldn't worry so much about the future; it's not like she has one. Only the eternal now of living in a place that is nowhere and everywhen.

"I know." She gives his hand a little reassuring squeeze. "I just wanted it to be clear that some times I'll want it more than others." Now is a 'want' time. She's not quite ready to admit to needing it, but boy, does she ever.

The shrinking world makes you feel so big and so small all at once. That's the real growing pains.

"I, Matthew Murdock, on this day--December thirty first, do acknowledge that Miss Verity Willis warned me," to the imaginary court reporter. He's staying because it feels more like there's a piece of himself here. It can't be in Hell's Kitchen at the same time. There's no way he could sleep there the same way he does here.

They can be foolish together. Who cares. He doesn't. They're still hand in hand and he gives her's a squeeze. "Okay. You just tell me." Whatever she needs... is what he'd say if a bartender didn't come up to them. Matt asks for a scotch because it's a special occasion.

Edited 2016-01-11 23:35 (UTC)

That, and bumping your head on the sky.

"We should have that entered into the record. Or notarized. Something official." The teasing would go better if she knew more about the court system probably. But if they were both legal experts they'd have to be rivals too often to be friends. This way is better; they have the places where they overlap and the ones where they complete each other.

Usually, she'd care about being foolish. Usually, she wouldn't be here at all. Usually, she wouldn't be mentally cursing an attentive bartender. She orders a glass of merlot and waits for the bartender to turn away before looking up at Matt again. "I thought you showed up tonight because you already knew."

The only benefit would be being closer to the stars. How do giants get by? How does anyone get by outgrowing your own environment?

"Tomorrow. First thing." I mean, only if she'd really want to. It gives Matt an idea to contact her the next day with details on an imaginary contract. That doesn't sound like he's asking for much, does it?

Matt turns a little, leaning his free elbow on the bar. His thumb really likes the texture of the top of her hand. "I had a hunch but... hunches aren't always right. Besides, I'd like to hear you tell me things. I like the sound of your voice."

They expand their horizons.

"Second thing. First thing will be regretting drinking too much." She may not be overly familiar with NYE parties, but she knows about hangovers. He may want to be careful with the idea of an imaginary contract; she's not good at imaginary. She's a literalist. Not to say she wouldn't sign a friendship contract...

Finally, years of moisturizing pay off. Lucky for him that she likes the feel of his thumb too. "I... I can try. I'm not very good at that sort of thing."

"Too much? We're a little late to start then." Matt can't check the time, so it's only speculation. "I would hate to break any traditions you might have." If it is an actual draft is it still imaginary? Then it's silly. A waste of paper in the traditional sense. In the sense of humor and trying to just make her smile and give him excuses to be with her a little more.....

Moisturizing and still having a hand. "Would it be easier on you if I asked? I mean, I have asked you to come out and if you like to dance. I've never asked if you're comfortable with me trying to directly sabotage your homebody tendencies." And want to spend time with her. That bartender either wants to blow through this night or earn his tips but he's back again. Must be some kind of speedster too.

"I can live with breaking that one," she admits. "Maybe it'll keep me from making regrettable resolutions." An actual draft doesn't sound very imaginary. Silly, yes, but that isn't a bad thing. If he wants to show up the next day with a contract and a smile, she'd be very happy. He could leave the contract at home and she'd be happy.

"It might." Their hands would have had to part at this point, disappointing as it is; she'll try to be quicker than him and pay the bartender first. "I like having help in overcoming the hermit life." Barry's a great bartender and they should be grateful. Not much of a listener, though. "But I'm going to want to feed you if you keep coming around."

"Regrettable resolutions? Can I ask for an example? I don't think I've really made one I regret. That's what Lent is for." Maybe he'll just... stop by. The reason he'll maybe figure out on the way. A contract might be along the line. Mostly because it's too funny to pass up. There'll be multiple clauses a printed and Braille copy. Because now it's not a chore to use a Braille printer. She did say she wanted to learn.

"I think you're a more homebody than hermit. Hermits don't have the desire for company. I've had the chance to see you at least three times this month." Matt reaches for his wallet but it seems that Verity can be something of a Flash on her own.

Food? Ohh. Matt chuckles. "Is that a threat? I really don't mind eating. I just eat a lot." High metabolism and keeping on muscle means that it gets packed away.

"Never? You're lucky." Learning Braille is going to be an interesting experience. Very tactile. He's going to have to stick close while she's studying. "I think the ones I end up regretting all fall into the category of trying to change who I am to fit in." Knowing when something's not true and being immune to peer pressure and loneliness aren't the same thing. Not even remotely.

Sorry, Matt, maybe you can beat her next time. Once they've got their drinks she takes his hand again. "True, we've spent a lot of time together this month. I'm going to be terribly disappointed when you get busy with other things. I can't be a hermit, I've got a roommate. I don't even work from home all the time anymore." This is tremendous progress for her. She doesn't expect him to understand.

She hums thoughtfully around a sip of her wine. "Not a threat. Nobody ever sees it as a threat." Her fingers brush over his hand before pulling away and she nudges his arm to try and coax it around her. "I like to cook, and I'm pretty good at it, so it'll be nice to share it sometimes."

"Lucky or inexperienced. I just try not to make promises I can't keep. And I think that we don' really need excuses to try." Strictly tactile learning. They'll translate the contract together. From there he'll try and craft a See Spot Run. Matt's mouth evens out hearing about the details. Gentle teasing with honest answer of course, he had hoped it wouldn't be something painful.

She gets a sigh and a head shake as he stops trying to pull out any kind of money.

"Reformed hermit," he muses. "As of right now I'm... not leaping into anything. I might even admit I'm getting accustomed to being lazy. It's dangerous." There is a full tone of contentment and ease. Matt really doesn't need a lot of coaxing. His arm wraps slowly around her, bringing her closer to him while takes the first sip of scotch with the other hand. So many pleasant things within reach.

She knew that eventually, she'd give a wrong answer and he'd stop smiling. Maybe it's for the best. The less he smiles, the less she hopes. And yet... "It's good to not make promises you know you can't keep," she agrees quietly.

No promises he can't keep. She appreciates the honesty. "Sometimes dangerous things are the most fun." Like the way his arm feels wrapped around her. It's too nice. Maybe he really is a devil sent to tempt her. "You deserve a chance to be happy." She'll tuck herself against his side when he draws her closer, half angled toward him and resting her free hand on his back. "So we're one reformed hermit and one reforming overachiever. Between the two of us, we might find a happy medium."

Smiles come and they go. It's being there at all that makes them significant. "I think you fit just fine where you are." As though she had asked. Matt says it softly like it's a stray thought that needed to be caught, if not caught than said.

"Sometimes not making promises though puts people on edge. They think it's noncommittal rather than being very aware of your limits." He has just as many as anyone else. "Thank you." As usual, she's more sensible.

Honesty for the sake of being honest, not sniffed out. "I like fun. I can tell you do too." Arm around her, nice and natural, resting at the other side. Matt even dares a casual lean her way. "A toast then. To you, Verity. And to reformation and the pursuit of the happy medium."

Smiles never came around that often in her life. She doesn't know what to do with them. Not even her own, sometimes. Just look at her, smiling like an idiot when he says that. "Right where I am?" There are so many possible meanings in what he said. Lots of nice possibilities.

She can't help being sensible. Sometimes she can ignore it, for a while, but it always comes back. Maybe that's not so bad; maybe it's a good thing she knows how to temper life with practicalities. But it's less fun. "You're only noncommittal if you refuse to tell them you know you're at your limit. Being self-aware is a good thing."

Honest for its own sake is best. Something they can both agree on. "Well, yeah. I'm not that broken." At the moment, she's feeling almost normal. And then embarrassed by the toast. "Me? Oh. Uh, thank you." She looks down at her drink and tries to will the blushing away, because that ever works. "And to you, too. And the pursuit of happiness."

The way that her tone of voice brightens tells Matt that her smile is beautiful, not idiotic. She should sound like this all the time. Perhaps there will be more of them, so much more. The possibilities and opportunities for a new year are so close. "Right here in Nexus." Matt licks his lips and continues with caution. "Right here with me." If they're going to talk about the moment at least. His own smile is full blown.

"...Well..." What a guilty admission already. "I feel like I never get the chance to explain in time." Foggy has learned. Karen will. And Verity? She doesn't want or need empty promises, nor does she deserve them he thinks.

Glasses clink softly, carefully for the sake of her dress and because that's all that it takes to make a toast real. "Gently worn but not broken." Matt takes a sip. Verity's warm, glowing face is again a treat to his senses. Maybe sometime he'll have to tell her. Would it make it more uncomfortable?

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Maybe this is why people who smile all the time are considered less intelligent; all this smiling is making it harder to think. Worse, she doesn't really want to think. She just wants to enjoy the moment without worrying about the next one. "Both of those sound pretty good right now." Maybe if he smiled like that all the time, she'd sound this happy.

She hums at the admission, understanding but not exactly approving. He could do better, but it's not her place to judge. And now's not the time. "Maybe we'll have to work on your timing. You've got it for dancing, you'll figure it out for the rest." No empty promises for her, thanks. She'd rather not have any. But she needs real promises, the kind hope can thrive on, as much as anyone.

She sips her wine after the clink, but her eyes never leave his face. She wonders if he can feel her watching him. "Not broken," she agrees quietly. Not quite, but some days she feels dangerously close. He could tell her how much he enjoys the way she lights up his world. It'd make her blush, but that doesn't mean she wouldn't like it.

Smiling means you feel better. And happy people don't seem to have worries. Those may stem from doubt, from awareness and possibly thought. All Matt's thoughts right now are on this moment and how to have more like this. Her response keeps him grinning like a boy. "I'm glad it's not just me." The scotch is rich and it's sharpness can only do so much to cancel out the sweetness.

With the lack of Foggy in Nexus, someone needs to set him straight when he's wrong. Matt can do well enough on his own. He nods at the thought. "Timing to the other steps in life, that's a better way to look at it." Smooth talking lawyers do have their shortcomings. And wouldn't you know that sometimes Matt's own hastiness to skip out on day to day for night time activities also have a sway in this issue. Throw away conversations. Carefully crafted agreements to meetings in a tight wire between truth and lie. It might come as a surprise but Verity is getting so much more honesty and frankness out of Matt than many will. And no, it's not because of the curse. Attraction can bright out better qualities in people.

Her gaze only is something he has an awareness of when her eyes or head move. The weight of her eyes are nothing. He can't find himself to mind one little bit. Matt gives her waist a careful squeeze. Her dress fabric rustles and whispers against his pant leg the way they stand so close. His eyes aren't capable of gazing back in adoration but he sure as hell can bask in her presence. "Is the wine good?"

"Not just you. I'm right here." Sometimes the literalist can make a joke. Maybe she can even learn to be happy. The carefree, trusting and delirious kind of happy. The real trick will be if she can learn to not be afraid to approach it. Life can't pull the rug out from under her every time she approaches it, surely.

They'll help each other stay within throwing distance of the straight and narrow. Her kinds of mischief are innocent, and she's not one to fall for a smooth-talking lawyer's tricks. His charms, maybe. Everyone has shortcomings; they'll learn to navigate those as well. Another dance. "It's easy if it's all dancing. Once we've got you doing it backward and in heels, there'll be no stopping you."

She wouldn't be surprised to learn he's less honest and forthcoming back home. The need for secrecy is one she understands. She might not like it, but there's a lot she doesn't like about the world, and the fact it's necessary isn't his fault. If attraction helps coax him into being honest with her, there are worse reasons. She'll have to hope it becomes a habit before the initial rush of wanting wears off.

The squeeze is unexpected and she gives a little squeak of surprise before leaning closer to him. He's welcome to bask in her attention for as long as he likes. She can bask in the attention he gives her, too. "Mm-hmm. Everything's good."

A man without fear can give a few lessons to not being afraid. First though is to take each and every small step. They're important. Matt chuckles at her joke. "Yes. And it feels good." That part he won't let slip away.

"I dunno about the heel business. Is that a don't knock it until you've tried it thing? I'm no Ginger Rogers." Though he can dance. And thus far Verity's most outstanding of problems aren't even her fault. The curse is out of her hands. The fate of her world too. It's just having all of that and trying to get by. A helping hand or two with the load would do her a world of good.

Wanting has been burning pretty steadily. Slow, consistent heat like a lantern in the dark. Maybe it was in October but it was sure something. And really it's not so simple as attraction. Matt knows how she moves and the sound of her voice. Those could possibly be found on someone. Paired with Verity's mind and personality it's been a winning combination even in her sorrow. Her sadness is just as important to him as her happiness. It may not go away. But it may get easier to deal with.

The little squeak makes him still, thinking somehow she might have been stuck with something. "...Good?" He chuckles. "Did I startle you?"

It's a misnomer, but she'll take any advice he has about being fearless. She might not ever be willing to jump off buildings the way he does, but jumping into life would be a good start. No slipping away, she's happy to stay where she is with him. For now. His chuckle makes her smile grow even wider.

"Well... you're tall, I suppose the heels can be optional." He's welcome to knock it, she doesn't always love them either. She still has a collection of them at home. Her back problems will be at least half her own fault; she maintains that society is half to blame as well. There's just no escaping it. (Except she did.) Helping hands sound good, and she remembers talk of a massage. That's going to sound really good by the end of the night. "You'd look so cute in one of those sparkly dresses, though."

Such a long time to want something and not pursue it. But maybe for the best. Fate or God or something kept him away until she was almost ready to start thinking about a future. Long enough for the worst of the pain to heal, not so long that he wouldn't be able to help. Perfect timing, in its way.

"Maybe a little," she admits quietly. There's no hint of discomfort in her voice, only the lingering edge of surprise and the delight of being with him. "You're a surprising man. I like it." Every surprise so far has been a good one.

There's time enough for more speculation on exactly the kind of dance wear Matt may or may not ever attempt in his life. And lets just say that a lack of vision does really do something for his sense of what should and shouldn't be allowed. And time to finish drinks and dance. Such dancing. It reminds Matt that he shouldn't have kept away so long and taken so long to invite Verity anywhere like this. There is a kind of perfect timing for these things.

One of the event coordinators or maybe someone who is all too into the occasion shrilly announces the time. 11:58! Already the anticipation has been in the room, in Matt himself and surely in Verity. Out of nowhere there's a bevvy of new champagne bottles popping, glasses clinking, someone is really trying to push all those horrible noisemakers.

"You mind if we kinda... step that way?" Matt nods his head to the large set of double doors leading to some kind of courtyard. "We can still say inside." Ever since she let him, he's hardly stopped having an arm around her or her hand in his.

The dancing is easier tonight when neither of them is trying to pretend. She doesn't have to put on a happy face, and he doesn't have to put on a clumsy blind man routine. For dancing like this, he could wear whatever he wants; she wouldn't complain. But there will be no 'finishing' the dancing: only postponing when the rest of the world intervenes.

Verity's been keeping an eye on the large clocks placed strategically around the space. Around 11:30 she started getting nervous; just butterflies in her stomach at first, then a little tension and hypervigilance. The first pop of a champagne cork makes her jump, and then she realizes how soon it is... and there she goes blushing again.

"Oh. Okay." She hasn't tried to far enough away from him to be out of reach; the touching is just fine with her. "We can go out for a minute if you want. It's, um, pretty warm in here."

Maybe only twice that Matt's aware of he's thrown some people off. The rest of the time he's just... forgotten that he's supposed to be another way. It's so easy, so freeing and it doesn't matter.

Matt's arm goes around her at the pop. She hasn't been too jumpy outside of squeezes. Her heart and her face are really giving tells. Some air would be good for the both of them. "Yeah. It is. On the loud side." And going to be louder. He could deal but he really would prefer to just mellow out. It'd be good for the both of them.

They're already not too far. The first new breath of night air has him sigh. Much cooler here than among the moving bodies. "Are you okay?" If she wants to spend the last two minutes or so of the year talking it out. "I know this kind of thing has an expected moment. And I think you do too." Matt looks to where he knows her face is and slightly licks his bottom lip in thought.

She'd like to say she's not a jumpy person by nature, but she's got her limits like anyone. The warm weight of his arm around her is reassuring and she relaxes into his hold again. He's been so good to her all night, so strong and attentive. She doesn't understand it, but she can't deny that she's been enjoying it. "Very loud," she agrees. Better for them both to step out into the quiet calm.

The chill sets off her goosebumps and sends her cuddling against his side for warmth. The juxtaposition is pleasant, in its way, and the quiet is a welcome reprieve. "I'm okay," she assures him. "I just... I feel like I should apologize in advance for not being better at these things. I don't want your new year to get off to a bad start because I'm a bad kisser."

This is a rather big excursion for one who usually keeps indoors and in more sedate environments. Sure, it's no frat party but it has it's bevvy of stimulation. And then there's Matt added to the mix. Every new tension in her has Matt reacting to lessen it best he can. No trouble tonight.

There's enough quiet that they could hear crickets off somewhere. If she gets chilled enough, he'll offer her his dress jacket. Behind them someone announces one more minute. "I feel like you should cut yourself a break and not worry about how bad anything you think you are. ...And I don't remember it being bad at all." Was that a month ago? Feels like too long. He rubs up and down her arm to try to smooth out the goosebump chill.

I've seen a 70lbs pusheen doll. i didn't buy it ;-;

That's excessive. How big was it?

It was as wide as it was long so maybe four feet?

That's not a doll, that's a piece of furniture. Or a lifestyle choice.

or a member of the family

Well now I need one.

seriously, lounging on a big ol pusheen sounds so nice ;-;

It really does. Cozy and magical.

http://bit.ly/1Sh3gDN still no powerball winner so....

Aww! That is so cute. Want!

my exact reaction. augh.

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bit.ly/1ZlKgDc

that is so cute omfg

Nothing says "cute" like a CR 13 monster in love.

the heart eyes, so many heart eyes. :3

I think it got you with its Charm Person eye beam.

http://bit.ly/1GQZEC3

I'm not sure if that's sweet or weird. O.o

a bit of both!

The best kind I suppose.

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