usingthelaw | ic inbox.

It stopped being metaphorical a while ago.

[Le sigh. Remember when resurrecting ninjas weren't a thing, Foggy? Matt misses those days. Matt really misses those days. At least this person, whoever he is, doesn't smell like the Hand does, doesn't smell like he's slowly rotting from the inside out.]

I'll take the covers up to the roof. There's a box of matches in the kitchen drawer, third one from the left. You're in charge of those. [Why's he got a box of matches in the kitchen? It's—Listen, sometimes in one's vigilante life, they find themselves in need of helping another vigilante buddy burn the hell out of some incriminating photos, and then they have to steal a cigarette lighter off the guy they just interrogated for leads to do it.

It's embarrassing, and Matt does not want to go through it again.]

The katana—we'll need to dispose of that too.

[ Sometimes he felt really proud how far Matt had come with his sass level because he remembered the more polite Catholic boy routine all too well but there were also times like at the moment where it frustrated him completely. How could Matt just so EASILY accept everything and take it in stride? Especially when he still felt dizzy over the scene in front of them. Worry might have played a small factor. Maybe. ]

You knew I would ask. Is this a kink thing, Matthew? Because you really shouldn't be playing with matches.

[ Enhanced abilities or not but he still moved over to the kitchen to pluck the book of them between his fingers. ]

What are we going to do chuck it in the river at night like we're the criminals we're supposed to bring to justice?

[ Okay, maybe he still felt bitter about Castle. ]

We're going to have to shower after this. I already smell like death. [ He didn't realize how that sounded like he meant together. ]

If you want to maintain plausible deniability, I recommend not asking for details after why I have a box of matches.

[Plausible deniability, he says, like they didn't go way past that already. But yeah, Matt's just hauling his bloody mattress up the stairs now with some care where he steps. He'd be faster under other circumstances, but fresh off of Daredeviling and hauling a mattress that stinks like someone died and came back to life on it? Hah.]

Either that, or clean it off and pass it to Colleen. She might have an idea where it could've come from, at least. [Judging from his tone he doesn't really believe this.] I don't feel like asking the police to investigate the place. You?

[Do you want to explain to Brett what you've been up to for the past few years, Foggy? Do you?]

—uh. [UHHHH.] You can go first. The sooner we can both get this smell off the better. [One step.] For what it's worth, though, you smell much better than my bedroom does.

[ Plausible deniability? Of course, because he didn't leave that behind with a whole lot of other things, like his sanity, when he discovered Matt enjoyed wearing spandex and running around on rooftops. If only it had been some kind of weird fetish. He could have worked with it a lot easier and set Matt up in some 'groups' for that sort of thing. Safer ones than what he found himself in now, of course.

Lips curled up, he set down the box of matches to go and help Matt with the mattress. The closer he moved to it, the more his eyes started to sting. The smell nearly consumed him but he tried his best to not look too bothered by it. ]

No, I don't want the police to investigate! Who do you think they'll blame for this? [ Certainly not the one who couldn't even SEE. ] We'll just chuck the katana in the river and be done with it. Trying to transfer it to Colleen might be too risky of a thing to do.

[ When they made it up to the roof, Foggy let out a displeased groan. ]

You need to electrify your windows and everything. Then we can just have one boring night in. That's all I ask. Something without blood and death.

[Sorry it wasn't a weird fetish, bro. If it helps, Matt's found one group all by himself. The fact that this group includes Jessica Jones, the Hero of Harlem, and a billionaire with a glowing fist is immaterial and irrelevant.

Anyway: yay, help! Matt is really glad for it, because if Foggy's having a bad time with the smell, imagine how Matt's feeling. The scent of dried blood is almost overwhelming, leaves a bitter aftertaste on his tongue. He does not fix Foggy with a Look, because he's gagging a little on the smell too, but he does tilt his head and frown concernedly in his general direction, where his silhouette is in Matt's impressionistic view of their surroundings.]

I'll do it. [People have seen Daredevil do weirder things than chuck a sword into the Hudson.

Okay, no, they have not, but it wouldn't be too surprising. He aims a sloppy kick to the door behind him when they make it up the stairs at last, and together they drag the mattress out onto the roof and drop it there.]

I'll take that under consideration. [And then he's never going to put it into place because it would be too much of an inconvenience, from his point of view. Still, he has to acknowledge the fact that, yeah—he needs to find some way to better secure his apartment.] A boring night in, huh? I assume this includes that series on Netflix you were talking about last week.

[ Straightening out his spine, Foggy let out a low and still very displeased groan with the direction the night had taken. Matt had some kind of danger magnet and all the worst of the worst were drawn in. The guy who couldn't die being a prime example. Arms folded across his chest to further his image of 'nope', he responded with - ]

You don't plan on doing a damn thing because then it'll be harder for you to just fling yourself through the window.

[ Don't forget how well he knew you, Matt. His b.s. meter never faltered when it came to the other man. They knew far too much to when it all came down to it. Matt a little too much with that nose of his.

Talk about constant embarrassment. ]

[ Okay, his eyes might have lit up a little at the mention of Netflix. Ah the simple pleasures in life. Netflix, some wine and good food - his constant companion lately.

Was that sad sounding? ]

If you think your devil may care attitude could adjust to just sitting and having me to describe to you everything going on. You know you live for my commentary.

[ His eyes gazed over at the ledge of the roof. ] We're going to need to go and get you another bed.

[Don't call him out like this!!!]

It's a bit more than just flinging myself out the window. [It absolutely is just him flinging himself out the window in a red devil costume, like it's Halloween. He cocks an ear in Foggy's direction, because Matt might not be able to see shit but he knows for a fact that neither of them have been getting a lot of companionship lately.

He can't lie, he does like the idea of having Foggy keep up a running commentary on the series. Sure, he could use the commentary actually provided by Netflix, but that's less fun.]

Yeah, well. [He shrugs.] I like the sound of your voice more than the sound of whoever's narrating, in the actual commentary. [Is that a line. Matt, is that a fucking line?]

I can sleep on the couch. It's fine.

[He's gotten used to smell of dried blood off of it, so.]

You're right. It's flinging yourself back inside too. [ He gave a pointed look, not caring in the least bit Matt couldn't appreciate the gaze in all its glory. The sensing it would be enough for now, his hands wafting through the air slowly as he kept talking - ranting?

But he stopped short on the importance of locks and latches at the - line? Murdock charm 101, oh, he knew it all too well and the words were usually followed by a sheepish grin and what would be referred to as bedroom eyes.

His own eyes widened a little but he bounced back quickly enough. Hopefully. ]

You're full of shit, Murdock. [ A pause. ] We're getting you a bed tomorrow. Got it?

Now, come on. I need a drink.

ic inbox.

deadpool out here just trying to help his horny buddy out

murderous wingman.

how to woo people deadpool-stylez: one, murder. two, PROFIT

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject