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Now that the last touches are being put on the community center, Margaret Pennington is holding a meeting of the shareholders and community members who have been brought together to make this happen. There are business owners, teachers, politicians, lawye…yes, /that/ lawyer…and the like all at the meeting to discuss some of the funding details. Towards the back of the room Matt shifts uncomfortably, bored by the details. This is set to be the final meeting before the grand opening so it's pretty important that he be there. To pass the time he's playing a game in his mind, picking out where Danny Rand sits by the scent of her perfume.
Meetings usually aren't Danny's strong point. She can meditate with the best of them, or she can be active, but sitting in meetings and listening to people discuss fine details is not her favorite thing to do. She fidgets. She shifts. She jumps in at inopportune times. But despite all that, it's evident that she's eager to see the community center up and running.
"Well that answers the question about keys and security," Pennington states. Her makeup is perfect and for a middle aged woman she certainly must be a runner or some such. In any event, she moves on to the next topic. The meeting is being held in a gymnasium with a running track high above that is popular in architecture of athletic buildings during this time.
"The topic of concessions is something we have struggled with. Is it preferable to have simply machines for soft drinks and the like? Or is it worth it to pay someone to actually prepare simple snacks?" Pennington asks and then people drone on and on about the benefits and drawbacks of fucking nachos oh god kill Matt now.
"If you all will excuse me a moment," Danny interrupts with a tight smile, pushing up from her chair. "I'm just going to go…Check in with the electricians." Or literally anything other than snacks. She might earn a few curious looks from the people around her, but most of the board are used to this by now. It just suits the image of the idle rich, after all. From there, she heads into the hallways, stopped a little ways away to lean back against the wall with a heavy sigh.
Matt desperately wants to get up and join her but he doesn't really want to embarrass her in front of the business and political elite. So, he sits, and waits.
"I think we should table this disc—" Suddenly, Pennington begins to cough uncontrollably and clutches at her throat. Her eyes bulge out as the men and women in the meeting begin to gasp. She looks like she's choking and, in fact, she is as her face hits the table in front of her. People begin to scream and Matt stands up abruptly as people begin pushing their way by him. "Someone call the ambulance!!!" Matt's face turns to 'look' out the door at Danny as things begin to go crazy.
Danny walks away for one minute and things stop being boring. The sound of panic draws her back with a quiet curse, her brows rising when she sees what's happening. "Go call," she directs one of the bystanders, not waiting for someone to decide it's their job yet. "Margaret. Margaret, we're getting you help," she says as she rushes back to the table.
By the time Danny and Matt get there, it's clear that she's choking to death. Her face is turning blue and she keeps trying to reach into her mouth. "I heard something bounce," Matt says ominously. "It sounded like it came from the table." The crowd continues to panic and one of the men gets to the phone and dials 911.
"Bounce?" Danny echoes, trying to straighten the woman up enough to slap at her back, just in case she has something caught in her throat. One strike, two, three. Not too hard, though. The Iron Fist might be a bit too much for this application. But there's not much else she can do. If it was herself, she could heal it, probably. But in someone else…
Eventually Margaret's eyes begin to roll back in her head and she loses consciousness. It takes about 12 minutes for the ambulance to arrive and by the time it does, many of the people at the meeting are pretty sure that nice middle aged mother of three and civil organizer who was collaborating with the companies to get this community center off the ground is dead.
Matt, tie undone, looking harried, offers a paper cup to Danny. Inside is coffee. And whiskey.
The frustration is killing Danny, as she watches the woman slowly slip away, with nothing she can do. So once the paramedics have come and gone, when Matt offers that cup, she takes it and chugs it without even really thinking about it. Never mind even if it's hot. "What was that, Matt?" she asks quietly, watching the people still milling around. "What in the hell was that?"
"I don't know," he says quietly as he leans to touch shoulders with her. "I wish I had been focused on the conversation. I'd have a better idea." Matt sighs, removing his glasses to rub his face. "I heard something. I don't want to say like…a rock, maybe? It bounced off the table. Then she started choking."
"You think it bounced from the table into her mouth?" Danny asks, quirking a brow as she passes back to the cup. "That would be…impressive. That's past trick shot and into the realm of all but impossible. And there'd be no guarantee she wouldn't swallow it, or be able to cough it back up."
"I'm just telling you what I heard. I know it sounds crazy," Matt says shaking his head. He takes the cup and takes a swig. He doesn't say it to her, but she might be thinking the same thing. This is the second loosely related person who has died under mysterious circumstances in the past month or so. One is happenstance. Two is a coincidence, right?
"The last one was a sniper shot," Danny murmurs, brows furrowing as she shakes her head. "Who can do that and also manage to pop some sort of…what, a sling shot? Off of the table and into someone's throat? That's crazy," she mutters, pushing a hand back through her hair. "And why? If they're trying to send me some sort of message, they could certainly communicate a little more clearly."
"I don't know," Matt says as he shakes his head. "And if it was some rock, or marble or something, how do you know you're even going to get it to work even if y…." He stops and stands up abruptly and makes his way towards the table in question; the table where Margaret Pennington was seated. His runs his hand over it lightly and puts his finger to his tongue. He spits immediately.
"Poison."
"That seems like overkill. If you're going to use poison, why not do it more subtly?" Danny takes a deep breath, forcing it out slowly as she moves away from the table, arms crossed over her chest. "No demands. No contact. Why just keep killing people? It doesn't add up."
"I don't know. But I do know that if it does have to do with you, you must have an enemy. Or, it's a really big coincidence." Matt raises his eyebrow as he moves to stand aside her, albeit facing the opposite direction. "Play my cards right I could be next."
"Obviously I have at least one enemy," Danny grimaces. "Someone tried to frame me for murder, you might recall. And don't joke about that," she adds with a warning look, nudging at his side with her elbow. "Who's going to be my lawyer if they frame me for killing you next?"
"Probably Foggy, but if you have sex with him I'm going to haunt you from the grave," Matt deadpans. He nudges her right back.
"You know, I feel like Foggy would be really willing to work for it," Danny starts, a faint smile at one corner of her lips despite herself. She just can't help herself when it comes to being a smartass about these things.
"I only /act/ nonchalant about it," Matt says, faking a hurt look. "I'm willing to work for it, too."
"Trust me, you work plenty." Danny pushes up on her toes, reaching up to take his chin between finger and thumb and pull him down for a brief kiss. "Try not to die under suspicious circumstances, though. Aside from the legal complications, I'd miss you. And the support, the occasional support and sidekick duty is greatly appreciated."
Matt chuckles when tilting his head. "Sidekick?" he says in a slow and slurred way. "The devil of Hell's Kitchen is no sidekick." He whispers. Across the street, through two windows, a man with a stocking cap is watching the pair between two sets of windows.
"Sure, whatever you say," Danny teases, though she lets her head fall against his chest for just a moment, letting out a breath. She hides behind humor, but that doesn't mean she isn't affected by what happens. "Seriously, though. Be careful. It's getting a little too close for coincidence by now. I should probably warn Lex, too. Not that she can't take care of herself, but if they go after her people, she should know."
"I will. And I don't plan on spending the evening alone, anyhow," Matt replies. "I'll have my sidekick there to protect me."
"I do have a better side-kick than you do," Danny agrees. "You're stiff, I'm not sure you can actually get your foot up over your head without help." Stepping to his side, she links arms with him, as if to guide the poor, blind lawyer down the hall. "Head back to my place, we can look over what we know so far?"
"Well, I know my sidekick can. And thank goodness," Matt says as he pretends to be guided along by her. The binoculars of the man across the street has been replaced by a camera. The blind lawyer stops abruptly and strains his ears, trying to hear something.
Danny Rand pauses when he does, but she's spent enough time around him now to know when he's listening. No question comes yet, waiting for his explanation.
Whatever it was that caught his ear has stopped. "It's nothing, I guess," Matt replies as he picks up the pace again. "I just want to get out of here," he says, more perturbed that he hasn't caught this guy yet than afraid or rattled.
Danny nods, picking up the pace once more. "Pizza, or Chinese?"