Re: Hell's Kitchen, Marvel, Clem & Matt
[Matthew gave his voice a certain raspy sing-song quality that projected entirely false innocence that transcended centuries, nations, genders and languages.] 'Lack, good lady, I meant no offense to thy sheets. [He made more effort to translate into her tongue, though he was growing heavy with his thirst eased.] Over nice for a rough man like me. [He patted the blanket, and then ran his hands over the fold of the sheet with a reverence that was not mockery. He did it twice, and then a third time. He spoke very slowly to imitate American sentences and vocabulary he had heard through his walls.]
This neighborhood, I have [A struggling breath.] chosen a... home here. I wish... want the streets... clean. If children cannot play, I cannot walk. Many enemies, I hath, in Hell's Kitchen. I ha- [...] -ve hope your kin is not one.
[He tried to take a deeper breath, but could not, and moaned quietly. If he was to believe that pain and not his own ears, he would think his ribs were compressing down on his stomach and lungs, and he rolled slightly over onto another side, despite straining stitches, because it relieved the pressure on his ribs. He had bled a lot, quite a lot, more than any normal man should have bled. But he was still living, even if he didn't feel... good.
He hesitated in his answer. He came from a world in which to make even religious leanings public was to run a near suicidal risk.] Yes.