Matt Murdock (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aworldonfire) wrote2016-03-26 10:26 pm
aworldonfire) wrote2016-03-26 10:26 pm
Entry tags:
rp | i need to question what i need
The decision was a long-time coming, and probably not the best one he'd made lately, but none of the decisions he'd made in the last few months could be considered good, and what did he really have to lose, at this point? He'd already driven Foggy off, Elektra was dead, Stick was gone -- what was one more relationship lost to his bullshit? At least this way, Karen could hate him knowing. At least this way, she'd finally have the explanation she deserved and had deserved for a long time -- since before Elektra, maybe, or at least since right after.
Where ever Stick had gone off to after their impromptu service, he wondered if he was proud. This was it. This was the end of Matt Murdock's personal relationships. It was everything he'd wanted for him, everything he'd tried to beat into him as a child. It made him sick to think about.
Letting out a breath, he paused by the door to Nelson & Murdock (just Murdock, now, if he went back to law at all) and took a moment to steel himself, fingers spidering in and out of the paper of the bag tucked into his arm absently. When he felt steadier or at least braced for impact, the lines of his body tight, now, he pushed into the office and took a moment to fold up his cane, drop it into the chair by the door.
"What am I doing here, Matt?"
He took a handful of steps towards her, reaching into the bag as he went. "I, uh -- I have something."
He could feel her recoil. Logically, he shouldn't have been surprised, given all she'd just gone through (for all she knew, her former boss had finally snapped, for all she knew, he was about to pull a gun on her), but it still hurt. As did the stammered, "No, I don't want it," that followed.
He forced himself to stop, for both their sakes. "I have something that I need you to see."
Heart leaping into his throat in spite of himself, he closed a hand around the mask and forced himself to pull it out. He pushed it in her direction with shaking fingers, trying to ignore the way her heart seemed to start, stop, trying to ignore the look of surprise, horror, something else, he wasn't sure, that dawned on her face. He blew out a breath, instead.
"I'm Daredevil."
Where ever Stick had gone off to after their impromptu service, he wondered if he was proud. This was it. This was the end of Matt Murdock's personal relationships. It was everything he'd wanted for him, everything he'd tried to beat into him as a child. It made him sick to think about.
Letting out a breath, he paused by the door to Nelson & Murdock (just Murdock, now, if he went back to law at all) and took a moment to steel himself, fingers spidering in and out of the paper of the bag tucked into his arm absently. When he felt steadier or at least braced for impact, the lines of his body tight, now, he pushed into the office and took a moment to fold up his cane, drop it into the chair by the door.
"What am I doing here, Matt?"
He took a handful of steps towards her, reaching into the bag as he went. "I, uh -- I have something."
He could feel her recoil. Logically, he shouldn't have been surprised, given all she'd just gone through (for all she knew, her former boss had finally snapped, for all she knew, he was about to pull a gun on her), but it still hurt. As did the stammered, "No, I don't want it," that followed.
He forced himself to stop, for both their sakes. "I have something that I need you to see."
Heart leaping into his throat in spite of himself, he closed a hand around the mask and forced himself to pull it out. He pushed it in her direction with shaking fingers, trying to ignore the way her heart seemed to start, stop, trying to ignore the look of surprise, horror, something else, he wasn't sure, that dawned on her face. He blew out a breath, instead.
"I'm Daredevil."
no subject
He forced himself to stop there, shook his head again. He didn't address that particular part of her commentary, beyond.
"It's -- " he started again, searching for the words that had become sort of a script, these last few months, explaining things to Claire, again to Foggy. "I can hear really well. Feel things, like how the air moves around something that's stationary, or when someone moves. I know you saw Ben's old boss -- Ellison? -- earlier because I can smell his cologne on you." A beat. "And his scotch."
He flashed Karen a brief, wry smile.
"Put it all together, and it kind of -- it makes up for what I can't see."