"Pretty sure you've got that backwards," Matt tries, hoping to carry some of that levity. (Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a lawyer!) He doesn't get far with it, however, feeling too bad on any number of levels to manage, and so he doesn't try again, lapsing into silence for a moment, instead, as he takes another mouthful of coffee.
"That burner phone I've been carrying around?" You know, the one he completely forgot about, when he came in, last night? The one Foggy thought was for some girl he's been bedding? "There's only one number in it -- it's for a nurse. Her name's Claire. If you could have gotten me up for a few minutes ... "
Maybe he would have thought to call her. Probably not, but maybe. He shakes his head, either way.
"I'd already gotten in touch with them, though. With the, uh ... " He reaches up to touch his ear, rather than finish that statement -- and finally does raise his eyes, his expression puzzled, when he realizes he's not wearing his comm anymore. Turning his head to one side, brow furrowed, he feels for it, mentally, and when he catches the scent of plastic, sweat and blood, somewhere back in the kitchen, he gestures in that direction. Someone must have taken it off him, while he slept, so it wouldn't end up permanently lodged in his ear or -- whatever.
"Stark gave me a direct line to them, when I started working with Barton and Romanoff, and if I ever needed anything. I never bothered to use it, when we weren't working together, until last night."
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"That burner phone I've been carrying around?" You know, the one he completely forgot about, when he came in, last night? The one Foggy thought was for some girl he's been bedding? "There's only one number in it -- it's for a nurse. Her name's Claire. If you could have gotten me up for a few minutes ... "
Maybe he would have thought to call her. Probably not, but maybe. He shakes his head, either way.
"I'd already gotten in touch with them, though. With the, uh ... " He reaches up to touch his ear, rather than finish that statement -- and finally does raise his eyes, his expression puzzled, when he realizes he's not wearing his comm anymore. Turning his head to one side, brow furrowed, he feels for it, mentally, and when he catches the scent of plastic, sweat and blood, somewhere back in the kitchen, he gestures in that direction. Someone must have taken it off him, while he slept, so it wouldn't end up permanently lodged in his ear or -- whatever.
"Stark gave me a direct line to them, when I started working with Barton and Romanoff, and if I ever needed anything. I never bothered to use it, when we weren't working together, until last night."