1963-12-26 - Lunch Break
Summary: Foggy and Matt discuss the reemergence of a ghost from Murdock's past… over sandwiches.
Related: None
Theme Song: None
foggy daredevil 

Its a cold day in the Kitchen, even though the radio newscaster warns of warmer weather coming in after the holiday. Matt Murdock is bunched over a Braille typewriter, punching up a deposition based on noted taken in rough ink. It's uncanny for a blind man to be able to read ink, but here, seemingly alone in the office, he feels a measure of safety in letting his 'talents' go to some use.


Well, that was the strangest Christmas Day that Franklin Percy Nelson had ever had. His father, step-mother, and half-sister were in the Bahamas. He had meant to head to Matt Murdock's apartment to pick him up. While Matt was perfectly capable of making it to Foggy's, it just helped to preserve the identity to have someone with sight helping him when out in public, even on Christmas Day.

But Foggy never came. And Matt, well, Foggy wasn't sure why he didn't come, but assumed it had something to do with the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Foggy still wasn't sure how to handle this. As he approached the office with lunch, which he'd braved the snow for, he sighed out again. He had to bring it up with Matt, and he'd put it off this morning. There was actual work that needed to be done, even on Boxing Day.

He opened the door and came in, setting the brown paper bag on a nearby table, and he hung up his overcoat and scarf. "Matt, I have lunch from Antonio's!" He had asked for a meatball sandwich on white bread, with Monterrey jack cheese, mayonnaise, and a little bit of salt and pepper for himself. He had placed Matt's order as well, and brought back coffee to go with it.


To say it had been a long story, well, that would have been an understatement. Foggy's suspicions would be proven correct, if anything, by the shiner on his left eye and a contusion still visible at the corner of his mouth.

Knowing who was coming, Matt didn't do anything to hide the pad he's transcribing. Everyone has a smell, and Foggy's footsteps were beyond familiar. No, it's the smell of lunch that brings him pause, and he looks up from the typewriter with a smile curling the good edge of his mouth.

"Italian submarine with oil, vinegar, and mayo?" he asks, picking out the smells one by one. "And hot coffee!" Now, the grin widens. His mug, after all, had long since grown cold.

Matt rises from his chair, feeling along the desk even though it wasn't necessary. Force of habit, it would seem. "Oh. I have something for you." He turns away and rummages through a cabinet, only to produce a small box. Inside of it there is a new watch; nothing too fancy, but not your run of the mill timepiece by any stretch. He offers the box over, and grimaces. "Sorry, I… didn't have time to get it wrapped."


Foggy looks at the box, "ah, Matt, thanks", giving it a gentle shake. By the size of it, he's pretty sure it might be something that could break if given too hard of a shake. He'll carefully open it and take the watch out. He immediately takes his old watch, which really did need replacing, and put the new one on. He looked at it, rotating his wrist, "it's amazing, thank you so much. And…"

He went over to his desk, finding a package in a drawer. He had wrapped it in box with packing peanuts, hoping that Matt wouldn't notice it. He really didn't understand how Matt worked, but, it was his best attempt to fool those senses. His box was a bit bigger. "Merry Christmas," he handed the wrapped box to Matt. He knew there wasn't much point in wrapping a present for a blind man, but he didn't want to spoil the fun just because of the visual impairment.

Inside, there was a personal magnetic recording device. It was still pretty bulky, but something that could fit into a briefcase. He could dictate notes and play them back to himself. And, since opening the box wouldn't do too much for Matt, he will explain what it is. "This is a personal magnetic recording device. There's indents on all the buttons, play, rewind, fast forward, record, stop, so you can tell. You can make your notes and play them back later." It actually cost quite a bit, but his parents chipped in on this one.


"Merry Christmas," answers Matt, before lifting his eyebrows at Foggy's presentation. He takes the box and gets to work on opening it, feeling first for a seam before carefully removing the paper wrapping and finding what's inside. He's about to ask what it is, but Foggy is quick to fill in the gaps.

The expression of surprise is palpable. Matt's hands explore the item piece by piece, denoting the marked controls and the grill where a speaker lay within. "This is…" Expensive? Well beyond either of their means? He shakes his head for a moment, turning the recording device over in his hands. "Foggy, I don't even know what to say. This will… well, it will make things a whole lot easier for me."

He sets the item down carefully, then looks back toward Foggy with a sigh. "Thank you."


Foggy's parents were fairly well off, especially his birthmother, who, on exceedingly rare occasion, could be generous. Probably had something to do with the guilt from abandoning her husband and child, but, Foggy never tried to rely on them. He and Matt were going at it on their own. Still, Matt was popular among the Nelson's, and so, it was actually hard for Foggy to say no when his parents insisted on helping out this year.

"It's, all right. Don't worry about it. I'm just glad that you like it." It would have been a lot of money to spend if it weren't appreciated. And of course, he still had the situation from last night to discuss. He didn't really want to spoil the moment, so he'd bring that up a little later, perhaps over lunch. He set the table with the food, and the hot coffee, making sure that he didn't mix up his and Matt's.

So, halfway through his sandwich, he'll finally work up the strength to say, "you'll never guess who knocked on my door last night." In fact, Matt may have known. Foggy probably still had traces of that vanilla and sandalwood perfume she liked from when he tried to comfort her. "Elektra."


If there is any suspicion that Foggy's parents may have helped, Matt doesn't acknowledge it. What good would it do, anyway? He's tempted to remark that they could itemize it for their '63 tax return, but he keeps his mouth shut, and simply… accepts it, with a smile.

"I could use a break," he admits, and moves over toward their small, fold up card table, which doubles as a place to eat, among many things. Perhaps he might have noticed that odor earlier, had he not been so distracted by the deposition and the pounding headache he's sustained since the night prior.

It isn't until Foggy brings up someone knocking on his door that he perks, and begins actually paying attention to all of those smells. He visibly stiffens a moment or two before Foggy actually confirms what he knows so well, and sets his sandwich down carefully. "You're right, Foggy," he answers. "I wouldn't have guessed that in a hundred years." A long pause. He wants to ask why. There was always some reason for everything she did, and usually, it wasn't trustworthy. Instead, he nearly stammers before asking, "Is… is she well?"


Foggy brought it up, so it's on the table, but he's really not sure where to go from here. It's such a sensitive subject, and, why the hell did she go to Foggy and not Matt. Well, he knows the reason she gave. He's not sure if he believes it, but at least he has a reason he can give.

"I think she might be stronger than she used to be, fitter. Like, she's obviously been working out. But um, she said… she was some kind of assassin." And before Matt can protest, he adds, "I got her to sign a contract before she said anything that could incriminate herself. Anyway, she said that she wants to change, but there are people after her."

He continued, "I… I know there's a lot going on here that I have no Earthly idea about. But, and this is the strangest part. She said she came to me because I'm the most normal guy she's ever met, and she thinks I can help her… somehow. I really don't know what to think here. But she's either a very good actress, or sincere. It was a surreal experience."


This all seems to deeply trouble Matthew. That's what she always called him; he can almost hear her voice saying it in the back of his mind.

"… an assassin?" he asks, then shakes his head and reaches for his coffee. "You have to be careful around her, Foggy," he tells him. There is a level of concern and care in his voice that mounts Matt's concern for anyone else. Foggy is his best friend; has been ever since college. "Did she tell you where she was staying?" Not that Matt would need an address. He could easily follow her scent from Foggy's apartment. But that is a can of worms he's not entirely sure he's ready to open.

Or should open, for that matter.


"No, she just appeared out of the blue, we talked for a few hours, and then she left. She never gave me an address, phone number, or anything. I don't know if she'll be back, or if it was some kind of joke. I just don't know, if it's to get to you somehow, or… she just seemed to be in a bad place and was looking for a friend. For whatever reason, she came to my apartment. I don't even know how she found out where I live. But she did bring a very nice bottle of wine, or at least I imagine it will be. That thing was made before my grandfather was born."

He was in a weird spot here. He imagined she wanted to get back with Matt, and was going to be asked to play some kind of a go between, but did Matt want her back, would they just spiral out of control like the last time? And why was he being involved in this? The last time, he was the disapproving friend, worried about her influence on his best friend. "Do you think she meant it, that by visiting me, she might have put my life in danger?"


For a long moment, Matt seems to be considering the gravity of all this. His sandwich isn't forgotten, but he stares at it with an empty expression for some time. He finally looks up, severity written upon his face.

"Foggy, I'd consider it a distinct possibility."

He reaches into his pocket then, and produces a switchblade. The weapon is legal, of course, and he slides it across the table toward his best friend.

"Just in case. Alright?"


Of course, Foggy was stuffing his mouth with some of that meatball sandwich right when Matt decides to say that his life might be in danger. Some of it goes down the wrong pipe as he chokes for a moment, but not badly enough that he needs help. He tries to swallow and sips some of his coffee, "r-really? Oh…"

And the switchblade is stared at. Foggy looks up to Matt, then the switchblade. "Matt, wow… in case?" He asks, more like tries to convince himself. He will take it, very carefully, not even bothering to open it. He's kind of nervous about that. And then he looks at Matt. He makes a face as he considers. "Can you teach me uh, karate?" He doesn't know what martial art or arts Matt knows, but karate is a word he does know. It might come in handy, even if he'd be a white belt and probably stay that way for a very long time.


"Remember when I took the Cavassini case?" Matt asks. It had been such a high profile arrest that even the mob's lawyers refused to take the case; Matt argued that it could put them closer to the mob, and thus, closer to finding a fix to all of the violence in Hell's Kitchen.

"Remember how pissed off you were that we were going to be taking money from the mafia? I asked you to trust me then." He nods to the blade. "I'm gonna ask you again. Trust me."

When Foggy brings up karate, Matt grins and picks up his sandwich again. "I think they might find it funny, a blind guy teaching someone karate. I think, first, we need to make sure you know how to throw a punch." A pause. "And take one, too." He motions with the sandwich. "You know I've got carte blanche at dad's old gym."


Foggy finishes off his lunch as he listens to Matt, remembering the Cavassini case, and everything associated with it. His expression turns sour, as that wasn't exactly the easiest case to deal with. "Matt, I do trust you. You're my best friend, and you can do things, that I don't understand. But I trust you, completely."

He doesn't want to learn karate, or anything else, to be violent. He wants to learn it so he might have some basic skill, in the event his life was in danger, and he can throw a punch, but that's more schoolyard punches, hardly anything to write home about, and it was always in self-defence. "We could go there, after hours, or wherever you think is best. But, for this, or anything else, it's probably a good idea to learn some moves."

"If she appears again, how do you think we should play this? Do you want me to help her, send her to you, or send her away." The third one would be tough. He's such a soft touch, he has trouble turning anyone in need down. And she did seem vulnerable. It might have been an act, but if it was, it was a good one.


For a few moments, Matt goes back to eating his sub, though he nods his head at thought of going to the gym after hours.

That question, though, it's a doozy. Where Elektra Natchios is concerned, he doesn't always think so clearly. Matt considers this for a long time, before fixing his red shades upon Foggy once more.

"Help her," he answers.

Murdock can be a bit of a softie, himself.


Foggy will begin cleaning up his part of the table, since he's finished, and will help Matt when he finishes up too. It was a delicate situation. It was so weird. "All right." The pair of them being soft touches was part of the reason there was a Nelson and Murdock. They didn't like dealing with clients like, well, Elektra. They wanted to help the people who couldn't afford a stringent legal defence. That's why they took on so many clients who couldn't actually afford to pay. "So, how's the case going?" Referring to what Matt was working on before Foggy arrived with a not so nutritious lunch.


To be truthful, Matt is grateful for any change of subject from that of Elektra. He visibly brightens, and stuffs the last of his sub into his mouth, chewing it up fast so that they can get back to work. "Oh, I think Miss Bradley has a case, for sure. There's not much on the books for tenants rights, but if we play this right, we might be able to make some heads turn in city council."

He rises, and gets to work at cleaning up what he can get to before Foggy is finished. "In fact, do you think you could pull historical records on her apartment building? Tax assessments and payments, utility records… I'd like to be able to prove her landlord's negligence by the time this goes to trial."


The feeling is mutual. It's a weird thing when your best friend's Assasin ex-girlfriend shows up on your door, on Christmas day, with a bottle of wine, and asks to drink whiskey, then ends up well, not crying, but certainly sad in your arms as you try and console her. And of course, Foggy's far too embarrassed to admit all of that. How would Matt take it? So, work is a relief.

"Miss Bradley, right, that's the…" and he's on the same wavelength as Matt once more, offering suggestions, and working in tandem. They make a great team, Nelson and Murdock. Soon, he'll be pulling files and making phone calls, trying to get the information needed to help her out.


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