1963-12-25 - A Foggy Christmas
Summary: Elektra appears on Foggy Nelson's doorstep on Christmas Day.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
elektra foggy 

It is Christmas morning, and Franklin Percy Nelson, Foggy to his friends, is at home. He planned to head over to the apartment of his partner, in the professional sense, Matt Murdock's apartment later in the day. It was strange for him, not having family this year. But his father, Edward, step-mother, Anna, and half-sister Candace, were in the Bahamas. He would have gone too, but he didn't want to leave Matt alone for Christmas. They'd spent every Christmas together since they met at Columbia.

Already showered and dressed, Foggy wore black socks, black trousers, and a white dress shirt. Over the dress shirt, he had on an "ugly Christmas sweater". His was blue on the top, white on the bottom, kind of on a slant, as if to suggest it was a mountain. There was a big snowman on a snowboard in the middle, three little penguins at the bottom, each holding up score cards, giving a 10, 7, and 9, respectively. There were snowflakes falling around the snowman, and a little note saying 'merry Christmas'.

He was in the kitchen, preparing some food that he would take to Matt's, and Christmas music was playing in the background over his stereo. "I don't want a lot for Christmas; there is just one thing I need. I don't care about the presents, underneath the Christmas tree. I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know. Make my wish come true oh; all I want for Christmas is you."

While Elektra's first thought had been to just break in, be there sitting in his living room, waiting for him like some sort of elegant feline, she actually considered better of it when she thought about what she was trying to do. She was trying to be BETTER. Not manipulate, not scare, not intimidate. Just be a better person. And better people brought wine as gifts. Better people rang doorbells. Better people didn't just break in as some sort of show of power and then pretend like nothing happened. So, too early for her own good taste on Christmas morning, Elektra Natchios comes up to Franklin Nelson's door and does the unthinkable — she rings the damn doorbell.

Outside his door, a woman who is unmistakable in her beauty stands. She's in a short black sweater dress which might not actually be designer, but looks it, and a pair of softly touchable gray leggings. Her black hair is straight and parted simply down the middle. She does, indeed, carry a tall thin bag which probably holds some sort of booze. She looks stunning, but also not quite herself. There is something exhausted beneath the surface, something lonely… Almost uncertain. She never looked uncertain her life but now she does.

Foggy wonders who that could be? Matt may have decided to come over by himself. He was capable of getting from one place to the next, though it was far easier, and more believable, to have a guide. Then again, who was out and about on Christmas morning? People were supposed to be at home, with family and friends. Foggy, assuming it was Matt, calls out, "come in, it's open."

He currently has his behind sticking out as he bent at the waist to look at the turkey in the oven. He even wiggled it a bit in tune to the music that played on the background. When he finally did look up to see Elektra, who presumably came in after being invited, his jaw dropped, opening far wider than he ever though imaginable. For one, she was absolutely gorgeous. He felt a sense of blood rush to certain parts of his body. God, how he envied Matt, even if she was a flame, and he a moth, he envied the moth.

But he also reacted because Elektra was here. Was Matt with her again? This was one hell of a surprise. And how come Matt wasn't there yet. Did she bring wine? "E-elektra?" He stammered out, losing his train of thought for the moment. "What, why, how… um, merry Christmas?" His face looks so cute as it contorts, going through the emotions of confusion, concern, and finally acceptance. She was after all a nice girl, well, bad girl, but she was here, it was Christmas, and he could be nice to her, especially for Matt's sake. He was anything but rude.

As he calls to just come in, the woman arches a brow but shrugs slightly, pushing the door open and stepping inside. She's got over-the-knee suede leather boots on, but they aren't actually heels, so it's just the quiet sound of flat steps across the floor of his apartment. She stands there, waiting for a moment, watching him through the kitchen archway, both her dark brows arched. She actually cannot help but smile at the scent of food on the air and the sight of his back. It had been so long.

"Franklin. It has… been a very long time. I…I know this wasn't expected. I hope I'm not…intruding. I… I just didn't really… have anywhere to go." The dark haired woman admits. Her accent is still present, faint but noticable, voice a quiet brush of husky alto. She takes another few steps into the place, holding up that little bag. The small card attached to the handle does say Franklin, so it's clearly meant for him. "Ah, and yes…Merry Christmas."

"No! No? No, you're not intruding." Foggy says no three times, but each one is in a distinctly different tone. He finally settles on a smile, somewhat forced, as he worries about Matt around Elektra, even if Matt isn't here. God, that voice does sound good. In truth, part of him secretly admired her. She was, well, frankly, incredible. If only she hadn't been so reckless, so careless, so much of a bad influence. Money didn't buy happiness in Foggy's book, no matter much you try, and this girl, she tried a lot. Moving towards her, he notes the card on the handle says his own name. "This is… unexpected. But thank you. I, I'm afraid I didn't get you… anything."

Naturally he didn't. He had no idea he'd be seeing her today, or even this year. When he accepted the bag, his hand briefly touched against her skin. "Would you like a cookie? I just baked some peanut butter squares and they should be ready." He was guarded, but he was accepting her into his home. After all, he knew nothing about her ninja career. To him, she was just a rich, powerful, beautiful woman, who made his best friend nearly fail a class at university, or three.

The woman lets him take the bag — it is a bottle of wine. A ridiculously expensive bottle of wine. Now, hands free, they fall to her sides almost nervously. For as strange and out of place this all felt to him, it was doubly so to her, because her presence here was basically asking for help and she was NOT a woman who asked for help. At least, not this sort of help. This wasn't killing someone. This was being… Normal. Safe. Right. She takes in a slow, slightly shaky breath through her nose, half calming her heart galloping against her sternum.

"A… a cookie would be very… Nice. Yes. Thank you. And I don't need anything…" She mutters to his not getting her something. Then she catches herself. That's not true. "Well… not… Things, at least. But I need… I… " Saying this was terrifying. Her dark eyes drop to the floor, voice a touch quieter, "…Foggy, I need your…Help."

Foggy is hardly an expert on wine, but even he can tell when a bottle is this expensive. For one, there was the date on it. This bottle may even older than his grandfather. And, assuming it hasn't turned to paint thinner, which he would seriously doubt given what he knows about Elektra, it ought to be the best bottle he's ever tasted. Really, it's wasted on him and his palette. He gushes over it a little bit, "woah, wow, really, for me? You, Elektra, you shouldn't have." He feels really guilty for not having gotten her a gift, even if he had no earthly reason to prepare for such an eventuality.

Turning to place the bottle on the countertop for now, he'll grab a spatula and a plate, serving up three, just in case she was hungry, not that she needed that much sugar. But his excitement and exuberance disappeared when he realised how terrified she was. The plate of cookies was left on the countertop, and he immediately moved closer to her, into her personal space, and placed what he felt was a reassuring arm around hers, "Elektra, what's wrong?" He was such a soft touch. A woman in pain and he was mush. "Please, come, sit on the couch, what's this all about? Really?" He'd lead her there and take seat beside her. Close enough that his trouser legs brushed against her leggings.

Three cookies make her slightly chuckle, though there is still an edge of nerves to that laughter. She reaches out for ONE, and only one, but it would be rude to refuse. Then he's there next to her, touching her softer than Matt really ever did. Elektra isn't a woman who entirely understands what the word gentle means, nor do most of her friends or lovers. Something tightens in her throat as she feels that arm around her shoulders and she just has to stop herself, taking another deep breath against her galloping heart. "Franklin… you are too nice. Always, always too nice…" She whispers softly. But that's why she was here, after all.

Quietly, she lets herself be lead to the couch. The fact that she lets herself be guided ANYWHERE is a bit strange. She sinks down next to him. This close, she smells like black vanilla and sandalwood, delicate fragrancies which are as exotic as they are feminine. She doesn't pull away as she gives a nerve wracked half smile to him. "I… I want to… I… I'm trying to be… Better, Franklin. I want to be a better… person. I want to be… normal, and I know that doesn't make sense… and it's so complicated, but… I don't want to be… to do… what I did… And I don't know how to be anything else…"

He doesn't understand, but understanding isn't required. She is, his friend, well, sort of. More of a former lover of a friend. But Franklin is one of those good people, who would give his shirt off his back to a perfect stranger. They're getting rarer and rarer every day, but they still exist. And he can see that either Elektra is in pain, or she's a damn good actress. Actually, she probably is, but Foggy doesn't know that. He has to admit, he does like her scent. It's quite powerful, but only in the best of ways.

"You mean you don't want to be stealing cars, breaking into people's homes, and doing whatever you want, whenever you want?" It's funny, if anyone else had said those words, they could have been hurtful, snide, disrespectful, but the way he says it, it is with humour, and a genuine kindness behind. He knows she's a bad influence, he's known it all along. But somehow, the way he says it, his tone, his inflections, the way he smiles as he says it, it's like a good friend just pointing out the situation as it really is.

"I'm not sure what I can do to help, but I can certainly try." She's at his home on Christmas morning. This has to be genuine. Or, it could be an early new year's resolution. He's not sure, but he places an arm around her shoulder, and then lowers it, rubbing her back, so kindly, so tenderly, through the sweater dress, naturally. "It's okay. Would you like to start at the beginning?"

His words about stealing cars, houses and the like actually make Elektra laugh weakly. He wasn't wrong, and he wasn't being cruel either. She knew that. She gives him a slight shrug and a dip of her head that is almost a nod, "Uh… well… Yes. Rather exactly. Among…other things…" Elektra mutters, expression still a touch drawn, eyes flickering down, and a hint of deep guilt crossing her features noticeable enough that even he could probably read it. She was a good actress, not often one to wear her heart on her sleeve, but this morning she was doing it. Maybe it was being with Foggy, maybe it was trying to make the change at all, or maybe it was just because it was Christmas. But she was trying.

You are the most… normal, good person I know. I know that sounds… boring. But it's not. It's good to be… Normal. Moral. Kind. You are all those things and … just being that would help. I think. I hope." There is more, some tension behind her expression. She's holding so much back. But her dark eyes flicker up as he feels his arm wrap around her back and rub a bit closer. She's long, slender lines beneath that soft sweater. No slip on today. Nothing but bra and those leggings. "…I don't think you really want me to start at the beginning."

Foggy may have had his faults, he had his weaknesses, but he was a good judge of character. In fact, he was an excellent judge of character. It came in handy with clients, witnesses, and in court. He spotted the guilt. So, she was capable of feeling guilt. And he had a feeling that she was trying to get something off her chest. She seemed genuinely committed to whatever this was.

"That's me, Mr. Normal, bowties and all." He wasn't sure if she ever saw him in a bowtie, but he had more of them than any other person he knew. "It's up to you, Elektra." He still wasn't sure why he was doing this, with a woman he knew to be bad. But then he reminded himself. She was here looking for help. He hid his inner turmoil well. "But, it's Christmas, and you tell the truth at Christmas. For example, I was always concerned about you and Matt back at college. I thought you were a bad influence on him. But he really cared about you. I don't think he's ever cared about anyone as much as you. If you, well, think you can change, you and he could have a future together…"

Yep, that's Foggy. He thinks he's helping this beautiful Greco-Asian supermodel heiress to improve herself so she can be with his best friend and business partner. He would never entertain the thought that she could be interested in him. Why would she go out for hamburger, er, maybe a double hamburger, when she could have filet mignon?

The commentary about always telling the truth at Christmas is enough to get a slightly arched brow from the woman, scepticism written all across her face. She listens, though, without interrupting, as he spills about his worries over her and Matt. A small laugh coughs from her burgundy mouth, shaking her head and looking away from him into the rest of the living room, "Franklin, it was no secret you did not… approve of Matthew and I. I think you'd have said it to my face but you were terrified of me. Are… terrified of me, probably. And you are too good a man to say it." She admits quietly, one hand coming over to rub against the top of his knee in a manner which is both almost fond and almost patronizing.

But, that's why she is here. Because he is a *good man*. She breathes out quietly through her nose, trying to sink a bit deeper back into the couch, cut some of the strings of tension that run through her body. Exhaustion helps with giving up that tension, that much is clear. "You… you are a lawyer. But you are not my lawyer, if I tell you things… some of them are quite…illegal. Most of it, honestly. You could lose your license… your practice, for knowing these things and not revealing them. Some truths are not so innocent, Franklin Nelson…"

Franklin is well aware of the beautiful woman's delicate, yet strong, hand coming into contact with his knee. Instinctively, he actually closes his legs a little. The one her knee is on remains where it is, but the other leg closes the distance somewhat. He is scared of her. Not because she's a ninja, he doesn't know that, but because he doesn't understand what's going on. That's an unusually intimate touch, and he does know that she can be a handful. He's heard enough stories from Matt to know that. And yet, he does like the contact. This only served to further trouble him.

He watches her sink back, and listens to her story. "Well then, we'll just have to change that." He doesn't bear her any ill will. He's not keen on the illegality of her work, but he has a passing familiarity with some of it from Matt. He gets up, having to break the contact with that hand, and heads over to grab his briefcase. He begins flipping through, looking for the appropriate papers. He then grabs a pen, a nice one at that, and crossing a few things out, initialling them, and then writes down some other things.

He'll return a moment later, "do you have a dollar? Sign here," he makes an X, "and here," he makes another X on another page, "and here," he makes a third X, "give me a dollar as a retainer, and you'll officially be a client of Nelson and Murdock, and thus, protected by attorney client privilege. Though I must warn you, if you admit that you intend to commit a crime in the future, that is not covered." Yeah, he is a lawyer, and a damn good one.

The woman almost seems reluctant to let him go. He was her touchstone at this moment, her thing to keep focused on instead of running back to it all. If Foggy Nelson could look her in the eye and accept her, maybe she could actually do this. But then he's gone and her hand is left cool to the air, slightly fidgeting for a heartbeat or two. She then wraps her fingertips around her knees instead and sits back straight once more, trying to look stiff and proper, "Franklin, what are you…"

Then it hits her, a moment before he starts explaining, "Oh." She allows a little crackle of a laugh to escape her lips once more. She then unfolds from the couch herself, passing towards the little purse she left near the door, with a wave of vanilla and sandalwood in her wake. She pulls out a crumpled dollar and indeed hands it over before bending forward so she can sign all those papers without actually sitting. It gives a rather nice view to her curves. "You will probably regret this, you know…"

Without enhanced senses, or even a keen observational ability, Foggy has no idea how apprehensive she became when he briefly left her, but it was all for a good cause. He returned to find her far tenser than he had left her. He liked the sound of her laughter, the way it sounded as it emerged from those pouty red lips. He accepted the dollar, a formality, as he was now officially on retainer, and pocketed it. He inhaled the scent of vanilla and sandalwood, and actually complimented her. "That's a nice perfume you're wearing." He bets it costs more than most of his suits.

Just before she bends down to sign it, he bends to pick up a piece of the peanut butter squares, and bit into one, but when he saw her curves, he bit right through it, and most of the square fell on the floor. "Oh, sorry, um, yeah, they call me Foggy, but they could have called me clumsy." He bends down to pick up the pieces as it kind of crumpled when it hit the floor. And this gives him another good view of her, which makes his cheeks flush a little. As quickly as he can, he will take it to the kitchen, and hope to god she didn't notice the way the blood flew to, well, a place it shouldn't have when engaging with a client.

Suddenly remembering the wine, he asked, "would you like to have a drink? I think under the circumstances, it might help." He then began looking for his glasses, and a bucket, which he could fill with ice, before grabbing the wine from the fridge, where he had left it. He'll return to the couch with the wine and the glasses, though he looks so cute trying to balance the bucket of wine and glasses.

A dark line of a brow lofts as he bites through that peanut butter square, "Something…on your mind, Franklin? And yes, I know they call you Foggy, but it's… so… Undiginifed. You are clearly a Franklin." Or, Elektra was just simply too snooty to use the casual name. She was better than nicknames, even with 'Matthew', all those years ago. "And you will probably… well, you will want to drink more than I do. But something harder. Not wine. Surely you have whiskey?"

She's regained a bit more of her courage as she's now just beginning to pick her way through his apartment, looking over things casually, carelessly, as she hunts for a liquor cabinet and some whiskey instead of the proper wine she brought. This isn't a fancy wine conversation. It also shows her other things about him, quietly satisfying her curiosity under the guise of looking for whiskey.

"Did…Matthew ever tell you how we…Fought? Trained together?… Not verbally. Physically. I am certain you have seen the bruises…" Elektra pauses in her search, leaning against some surface somewhere and looking straight at him, "I'm better than him. Especially now…I've spent a lot time putting those talents to… Use."

He actually liked his name. He never used Frank, it was always Franklin. But he has grown to love being called Foggy too. It's unique. Nobody else has that name. And it's become a part of him. And yet, the way she said his name, maybe it was the accent, maybe it was her, but for some reason, he liked it. "Well then, Franklin it is." He was a little surprised by the comment about the drink. She bought him wine, and then suggested whiskey. He was confused at first, but when she began searching for his cabinet, he understood. A whiskey conversation? It's going to be one of those days.

"Second cabinet, on the right," he instructs, and while she grabs the whiskey, he'll get two whiskey glasses and clean up the wine paraphernalia. "Fought? Trained together?" He asks as casually as he can. He's a horrible liar, so it becomes very clear to her that he knows all about Matt's bruises, or at least understands he probably has them. As she leans against the wall, the light shines, highlighting her in just the right way. He looks positively terrified. "I… see…" Still, for a guy with no special training, Foggy Nelson has guts. In fact, that was his nickname before Foggy. He was Guts Nelson. "So, am I going to make it to New Year's?" In other words, is she here to kill him?

"Second cabinet. Got it." Well, so much for the excuse to go sniffing through his things. She looks across the selections, trying not to make a disapproving sound, but she had to remember their law firm was still new. "You know, if you charged your clients more than a dollar, you could buy better whiskey, Franklin…" The tone she says that in is meant to be teasing and light, though there's definitely nerves behind it also. A joke to pass off the tension she's feeling. She pulls out the most decent choice and moves back, closer to him, so she can pour them both two fingers of the stuff, it's musk heavy and alcoholic on the air now.

"Wait…what… New Year? Why *wouldn't you? Oh god…What…you think I'm here to kill you?! No! Not you… I mean…I'm not here to kill anyone…not any more, at least… why would I kill you? Fuck, Foggy…" The reaction was rather over dramatic. The lady doth protest a little too much, not about killing him, but killing anyone. There is the guilt. A decade of guilt. She abruptly picks up her glass of whiskey and knocks back a full gulp of it."

"I only charge the pretty ones a dollar," Franklin replied back without even thinking. What was going on? Did he just flirt with her? And now she was a client. A rich one. He should be acting professional. Was this how it started with Matt? Did he just find himself relaxing with her until it was his undoing, and if he fell into this trap, who would be his Foggy Nelson? It had a sobering effect on him.

And then she reacted to his comment about not making it to New Year, and he was once again a soft touch. He looked so sadly at her, worried for her. He could tell she was dangerous, more so than he had ever imagined, but she was still a woman, a vulnerable woman. And she was his client now. He took that very seriously, even if it was only a single dollar that had changed hands. "I'm sorry Elektra. I didn't mean…" He drank his shot, knocking it back in solidarity, and poured two fingers for each of them again. "It's okay, you're safe here. Let's head back to the couch and we can talk about it. We can talk about anything. Honestly, Elektra. What can I do to help?"

The glass is trained, two shots in as many minutes, and Elektra pours herself out another few fingers before just sinking back down into his couch. She was here. She was doing this. They were having this conversation and she wasn't backing out again, even if she's gone silent for a nerve wrenchingly suspicious amount of time. Maybe she was contemplating killing him. Maybe worse, she was considering crying. But she's too distant now, withdrawing back into herself, getting control of all those emotions and worries. She didn't want to seem too vulnerable. It was unbecoming. Finally, she clears her throat softly.

"Without… going into too many details… I… I've kill a lot of people, Franklin. It was my job for a very, very long time and I was trained by the best to do it. From… a very young age. There's a lot of people out there who still think it should be my job and they aren't going to be very happy when they realise I've gone… rogue. But… I have. I can't do it anymore. I don't… want to. I want to… make the world somewhere… *Better*. I want to… give people… hope, somehow. I want to be a better person. Damn the money… damn the… talent… It's not worth it. Not anymore. It probably never was." She finally finishes speaking and dares to look in his direction sideways, bracing for the judgment she may see.

There was an initial shock. Foggy was surprised. And it showed on his face as she told her story. But he didn't say anything. He didn't judge her. He was worldly enough to know that some people didn't have a choice. There were bad people in this world, she may have been one of them, but she was looking for redemption. Maybe, had it been a man, he would have reacted differently. He doesn't know. He certainly doesn't like what Matt does some of the time. In fact, he probably should be angry with her. He should give her a piece of his mind, tell her exactly how he feels about people who hurt and kill people without remorse. But that's not what he did.

Instead, he leaned forward. His arms spread around her, and he wrapped her in a warm, tender embrace. His hands, not nearly as muscular as Matt's, were far more warm. He had a lot more body fat, but while it may not have been sexy, it was comfortable. His arms were soft. He held her, rocking gently, and whispered in her ear as his face brushed against her hair, "it's okay… everything's going to be okay… a," and he has to think about this, "journey of a thousand miles, begins with a single step." He probably read that in a fortune cookie, but that doesn't make it any less true. He grinned and added, "fortune cookie wisdom."

A hug was not what she expected. Elektra's had a lot of things in her life, yelling, and violence, sometimes even worse. More betrayal than she'd care to think about. But tenderness? Understanding? It's not something that comes into her understanding almost at all. Elektra stiffens as he initially hugs her, not in fighting pull away but in a shocked, scared animal sort of way. She simply doesn't know what to do with it. But then she slightly leans into that touch, her heart beating like some frantic bird in her chest. But she leans in, letting that warmth actually settle home that maybe he's right.

… until that cheesy catch phrase actually registers with her. She gives a little groan against his neck, "You…. you were doing so well with 'It's okay'. Maybe go back to that instead of the fortune cookie nonsense… you're better when it's just you…" She murmurs against the side of his jaw.

What was this? Doing better? She sounds so… he couldn't quite put a name on it, but he continued the embrace, doing as instructed while he tried to rationalise this all out. He held her in his arms, his hand rubbing up and down her back against the sweater dress. "It's okay Elektra. Don't worry. You're safe." He tried to reassure her, to be kind to her, to help her. He wanted to protect her, and he couldn't figure out why he was feeling this? Was it her sob story, was it because she was stunning, or was it because he knew how much Matt cared for her. Even if she was bad for him, he seemed to genuinely care about her back while they were at University.

He didn't break away. He probably should have, but he just continued to hold her. He could hear her heart beat. He could feel her hair against his cheek. He closed his eyes. This was nice for him too. And the scent of vanilla and sandalwood. He liked her scent. "No one's going to hurt you. You're safe with me. Everything will be okay. Don't worry. I'm here for you."

Her head turns just a bit more against him, nose and cheek pressing against his jaw line, probably free of the morning scruff already. But she could smell his aftershave and feel the warmth of his slightly softer frame and that alone was nice. Reassuring. He smelled like a man that meant home and safety. Steadiness. Like the things she *needed*. Still, a scared, sick sort of laugh escape her burgundy mouth as he says she's safe with him, that no one will hurt her. "God… Foggy… I'm not. There are a whole lot of people who want me dead. You… can't protect me from that. I don't even know if I can protect me from that."

But then she pulls back, some realisation hitting her. She draws away just enough she can look across to his eyes, dark gaze studying his too innocent face. "I… I don't even know if you're safe with ME. Taking me in… here. Trying to help. It… it'll put you in danger. A lot of danger. Are you… really ready for that? Don't make promises you don't want to keep."

Guts Nelson makes another appearance again. "I'm a lawyer from Hell's Kitchen. I've dealt with my share of death threats and intimidation."He actually sounded confident, that he truly believes it. He's smart enough to know that she probably has some serious issues going on, but when he says something, he means it. He is not the kind of man who makes a commitment lightly, and if he said she was okay with him, he meant it. She is now his client and he will give her the most steadfast defence he can. Sure, to him that means in a courtroom, but he's trying to be brave here. Whatever she's running from, she could use some normalcy in her life. He makes strong eye contact with her. "Whatever this is, you can tell me. We'll handle it together. And for the record, I never say anything I don't mean, well, not counting my sarcastic moments." He was still Foggy, still that funny little man, but he was here, he was with her, and he was damned ready to protect her against all who would harm his client.

A slight smirk pulls at her full mouth as he comments on being a lawyer from Hell's Kitchen. Elektra just shakes her head slowly, sending a cascade of dark hair around her shoulders. "It… it's rather different than… that, Franklin. These people send no threats. They just come silent, in the night, and kill you as you sleep. Sneak in windows and off of the roof. You never hear a thing. You… you have to take this seriously. They could kill you. If they think it will get me back to them… they probably will." And with that realisation, Elektra actually pulls entirely away from him. This was a horrible idea. She should have realised that. She gets up, shakily, stepping backwards a few paces as she shakes her head slowly, "I… I shouldn't have ever come here… You don't deserve this."

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Foggy says with conviction, and when she pulls away, he moves forward. "Elektra, it's okay." He says that in a different way than he was before, "I'm prepared for whatever may come. And if, as you say, they come for me in the middle of the night… I've had a good life." He wasn't backing down. He was actually quite scared, but he wasn't showing it. Whatever she was involved in, it must be serious.

"Please, don't go. Tell me about this. Tell me what's going on." And, hoping that it will help, he pours another two shots, one for her, and one for himself. He drowns his in one go. "Come on, I can't help if you won't let me." He was so kind, so warm. And the eyes, the way he looked at her, he was so sweet. He wanted to help her in any way he can. She had hurt his friend, hurt him even, and all he wanted was to befriend her. He was normal. He was safe. He was Foggy. Could she really leave him like that?

As he asks her to tell him more, Elektra just stares at him with slightly too-wide eyes. She was still scared. Nervous for him. Nervous for what she tried to bring down on his door. She shakes her head gently to the offer of the whiskey again, the stuff already partially going to her head. She doesn't quite return to his side again, but nor does she continue walking out the door. "I… I should have never come here, Foggy. It wasn't fair to you. I… I was trying to think of the… nicest… Most moral person I knew and… and that was you. But I didn't think that… well, god, I'm selfish, Foggy. Horribly selfish." That's true, and she always has been… "I didn't think this through. And how it would effect you."

He understands, not everything, but enough. And he can see through some of the issues she's brought up. He still holds out the whiskey glass to her, hoping that she would take him up on his offer. It surprises him how much he wants her to stay. It's probably down to the whiskey and the limited amount of food he's had today. And that perfume of hers. He can still smell it on his clothes from their prolonged hug. "Elektra, I'm glad you came here. It's all right. And… really?" He seems genuinely surprised by her admission.

"That's just about the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." He's blushing, and looks shyly down at his feet. "Really, you mean that?" And again, he brings his eyes up to make contact with hers. "If you want my help. It would be selfish to leave without letting me help you. Come on, just have a seat, relax, and tell me all about it? I'm sure it'll feel good to get it off your chest."

As he still holds out the whiskey glass, Elektra's dark eyes drop towards it, studying the golden beverage for a few heartbeats before she finally reaches out to claim the thing and take a smaller sip. She doesn't down it like a lifeline any more, at least, or she probably wouldn't be able to stand up off the couch and it was embarrassing to be falling down drunk on Christmas. So, she sips, more calm and lady like than before. "Yes, really…" She admits with a half laugh.

"…it's… not a good thing. I just took… half a world of danger into the living room of the nicest man on the planet. I…I don't even know how you can help. I…I just want to stop. I don't want to…kill anyone else. I'm tired of it. Tired of the blood…the guilt… tired of it all. I… want to do something better but I don't know *how* to do good things… maybe I… wasn't made for that." She admits, words slightly ragged, not quite teary but more so exhausted and riding a few waves of emotions and alcohol she's not quite sure how to control. He's opened a flood gate.

Foggy pours himself another shot of Whiskey, which he will sip with her. He genuinely wants to help her. She means so much to Matt, or did, and could again. And hey, who knows, maybe she knows a slightly pudgier, homlier, retired Assassin, who might be interested in him. It could happen.

"How's about this? Spend Christmas day with me. In the new few days, we'll go for a walk in central park, shopping down fifth avenue, just, normal things, and see how that goes? Would you like that? I know a great diner that serves the best grilled cheese sandwich you've ever tasted," and in her case, perhaps the first one she's ever tasted.

The woman is silent for several moments, just letting her shoulders sink back into his couch. She contemplates her glass, letting the whiskey swirl in lazy circles as she idly turns her wrist. Finally, she takes a breath and dares speak, "Christmas? Surely you had plans. I…I don't want to keep you from family, or someone. Go. I'll just… crash here. Or, really, I can find a hotel. Let you get on with your day. I shouldn't have come today, it was rude of me…" But she's not saying no to the shopping or the walking in the park. She hasn't turned any of it down, she's just trying to let him have his Christmas.

"My parents and sister are on vacation. I had a case, so I couldn't go. And Matt," if he's not already here, he probably had something come up. "Has something else he has to do tonight. So, it's just you and me, or just me. Up to you." He swirled the glass around, and had another sip. "Besides, we still have that bottle of wine. I'm curious what a bottle wine that is as old as that tastes like." And, he really doesn't want her to go. She's so beautiful, smells so nice, and she's taking an interest in him, his company at least. It was weird, but he wanted it to continue.

"You… were going to be alone on Christmas? Oh, Foggy…" Elektra breathes out, actually feeling for him a bit. She doesn't realise that Matt had planned to be here, assuming that the blind man had cancelled if something else was on his to do list for the night. Now Elektra even felt guilty about going. She turns her head, watching him quietly again, still torn but it's clear he's starting to win this argument. "… we should eat something that isn't sweets before opening that bottle, or we'll both be drunk and sick before sundown."

It was probably a mixture of the whiskey he had already drunk, the perfume, the curves, that voice, but right now, he wanted to get sloshed with her. He had to remind himself. She's Matt's ex-girlfriend. "I have a turkey in the oven, some vegetables in the pantry, and you already tried some of the dessert." He got up and headed to the kitchen, bending over as he opened the door to check on the turkey. "And, I think the turkey will be ready by the time the vegetables are cooked." He'll go about getting them from the pantry, setting them on the counter next to the knives and cutting board. "Wanna give me a hand, Elektra?" His night was looking up, even if she was a former Assassin.

"…Oh good, you can cook. I can't." Elektra admits with a half laugh, as if she were planning some grand future where one of them cooking will actually be fairly important. She then watches him get up, though her brows arch as he asks her to give him a hand, "… I can… try. You'll have to walk me through the steps?" They don't exactly teach turkey carving technique in ninja training. She's used to carving other body parts. She pushes herself into standing, following him towards the kitchen and leaning one hip against his counter as she waits for whatever instructions she's going to get. At least she's stopped running out the door.

He's busy with the turkey, so when he sees her leaning like she is, looking all sultry, he actually says, "damn…" without realising he had said it. His jaw dropped a little too at the sight of her. She was a real stunner, Elektra was. He smiled, sheepishly, and said, "um, can you chop the carrots and peel the potatoes?" They were already on the countertop, ready for her, with all the appropriate tools. He continued to do some other things. And before long, dinner would be ready. He'd set the table for two, and even put out candles. It was all so festive, the placemats, the glasses, his best plates, best cutlery, and he'd carve the turkey for her perfectly, asking, "what kind of meat do you like?"

"… I've been told I'm quite good with knives. Cutting potatoes and carrots cannot be… Too much different, right?" Elektra is only half joking as he asks her that. She then pulls herself up and away from the counter, smirking at his reaction to the way she was leaning, before she heads over to the knife block and grabs down a cutting board. She handles the knife a little differently than a cook might, definitely comfortable with the blade, but there is a precise almost violence to her motions, even as she's just cutting into vegetables. Old habits and all.

She arches a brow at the candles on the table, head half tilting, "… don't tell me you're getting romantic on me already, hmm?" She's mostly teasing.

Foggy looks at her, not sure how to read that. His face shows his confusion, of wanting to be romantic, plus, it's kind of a Christmas thing for him, "should I put them out?" He asks, and he even feels a little guilty. Was he trying to be romantic with her? God, he knew he had no chance, and even if he did, how would he ever tell Matt? That was just something that wasn't done, getting involved with a best friend's ex?

But he was starting to show the signs that he was interested in her. That was the oddest part of it all. Most men immediately showed the signs. The way their eyes moved, their tone of voice, body language, everything, but Foggy. He regarded her neutrally for so long. He was warm and inviting, but maybe the drink had dulled his defences, but he was looking at her in a different light. He could use some solid food in his belly to go with the whiskey. "Sorry about that, I… I didn't mean to imply…" He looked down.

"… Goodness, Franklin, don't have a heart attack. I am just teasing. The candles are nice. Breathe." Elektra half teases, half chides him, making a mental note that he certainly was a bit more serious than Matt, or easily worried, perhaps. She finishes with the carrots, putting them into the nearest pan, before she carefully begins peeling the potatoes with those delicate fingers. The red on her nails seems out of place with such basic kitchen work, but she is helping.

He calms when she tells him to breathe, and that the candles are a nice touch. It's mostly because he's trying to decide what he wants to do when it comes to Elektra. Alcohol is a bad influence. She's a bad influence. He's a good influence. Does one right cancel out two wrongs? Heading back into the kitchen, he'll take the vegetables, now prepared, "perfect," he says, and boils them in water.

While they wait, he has the turkey under tinfoil, letting it continue to cook and keep warm. "See, you're already better than you know." He smiles at her while making eye contact. Was he staring? Should he stop? Oh god, how long can he look before it becomes awkward? Has it already become awkward? It has to have become awkward!

"… I suspect it would make you very uncomfortable to know that carrots chop much easier than someone's fingers and… I have a bit more experience with the latter, so…" Yes, sometimes torture was a part of what she needed to do. It wasn't all assassinations. But, she was trying to be honest with him, to give him a true view of her life, as terrifying and dark as it had been. "… I'm not a good woman, Foggy. Are you sure you wish me to stay around?"

It was shocking. Foggy made a face when she told him. He couldn't control his own reactions. She was admitting to some very sensitive things, or at least, things that any normal person would react strongly to. But then he came around to her and gave her another big hug. He wrapped his arms around her. "Elektra, I know that you have… done things, terrible things, but you want to change. I'm going to make you a promise. Be honest with me, tell me anything, and I will never judge you. You said you want my help. I'll try and do what I can." As he held her though, he inhaled that perfume of hers. It was so nice. He was learning to love the smell of vanilla and sandalwood.

The hugs are… Strange. Elektra isn't much of a hugging person, or even an affectionate person. Violence, death, booze; these things she knows. Gentle hugs and sweet support? It all still throws her off. She looks across to him as he hugs her again, but then very slightly brings an arm up to half return it. She's trying, at least. "… That is… very noble of you to say. You should be scared off, you know? Any sane person would walk away, right here. You… don't have to help. There is no obligation here, Foggy."

Foggy continued the hug, enjoying it far more than she did. But when he broke it, slowly, he leaned his head back, sighing. He breathed out as if he were tired. And then a smile came over his lips. "Elektra, please, stop with the obligations, the death, the destruction, the decapitation, the disembowelment, the devastation, the dark deeds. You're in a safe place. You're with a friend. I'm not going to turn you away. You aren't scaring me." She was, but he was hiding it well for once. "Just, enjoy it, be with me. Have a merry Christmas with me, a happy New Year with me, just, relax. You do know how to do that? No? Well, I can teach you. But, first, dinner."

The hug is slightly broken so she can look across into his eyes. Really, they were almost the same height, especially when she was in heels. It made eye contact all the easier. She half smiles at his list of D words that she needs to stop. "… I'll try to keep that in mind, Foggy." She murmurs, softer than before. Then she's giving his waist one more squeeze before fully letting go so they can move over to the table and eat. "But yes, first… Dinner." And, it's true, for the rest of the night she actually, simply relaxes. No discussion of dark and awful things. She listens about the business, his family, any stories he will tell her. She simply just tries to make it a nice night, the first she's had in a long while.

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