Who: Matt Murdock and Eliot Waugh Where: Matt's Apartment (312) When: January 8, evening What: Getting to Know the New Guy Rating/Warnings: Status: Completed via GDocs
While he wasn't sure about the new transplant's dietary likes and/or restrictions—really, he should have asked, and was kind of kicking himself for not doing so—Matt hoped he hadn't gone wrong in ordering Chinese. He made sure to get a variety, just in case, and timed it to arrive shortly after Eliot did. And speaking of arrivals and Eliot, he heard movement in the hallway. After a second more, he confirmed it was headed toward his door, but he stayed on the couch where he'd been waiting so as not to open it at the first knock like some overeager puppy.
Wine sat open and breathing on the kitchen counter along with his various bottles of liquor for whatever drinking adventure they might find themselves on.
Eliot had made a run to the grocery store that morning to get what he needed to make Dutch apple pie. Considering May was coming over to show him how to order groceries online it felt a bit odd, the supplies for the pie were needed sooner rather than later. It wasn’t a full on grocery shopping trip. He spent the afternoon preparing the pie. His favorite. Actually it was the best apple pie. He hoped Matt would like it.
Just before six he took one last look in the mirror. “Not too bad.” Though he really needed to do more shopping. He grabbed his key, the pie then made his way up to the third floor and Matt’s apartment. Pausing outside the door he knocked and waited.
After a measured three count, Matt got up and went to pull open the door. Immediately, he realized he'd need to adjust the angle of his smile, because Eliot was tall. Stepping back and taking the door with him, he gestured into his sparse apartment. "Hey, there, welcome in. I'd say mind your step, but there's really not much to mind." He laughed. "I've got Chinese coming, and I'm really hoping I didn't step in it by not asking what you might like."
“Hey Matt, nice to meet you,” he smiled and stepped inside looking around. There wasn’t much to the place. Not as much as his own and he had plans to add things. And maybe switch out the curtains. “You fit right in with the minimalists,” he teased. “Chinese food is perfect. I love it.” He looked around again. “I brought Dutch apple pie for dessert so I hope you’re a fan of apples. Mind if I put this in the kitchen?”
He was a little glad that Eliot hadn't gone in for a handshake. They were awkward at the best of times and frankly an outdated mode of introduction. Matt smiled as he closed the door behind him and moved into his space. His relief that his food choice had gone over well wasn't entirely affected. "Oh, no, feel free. Mi casa, etc." He grinned and followed a few paces behind, but stopped right at the edge of his equally empty kitchen. "I'm doing pretty well with just the basics in there, since I don't really do much cooking myself. You're more than welcome to use whatever I do have, though. How was the rest of your Saturday?"
Eliot moved to the kitchen and sat the pie on the counter before going to the stove and setting it to warm. "Just the 'ol bachelor in the 'ol bachelor pad, eh?" He grinned but it quickly slipped away. Shit. "Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed that. I have this gift for speaking before I think sometimes."
He slid the pie into the stove then turned to face Matt. "It was fine. May came over to help show me how to order groceries online. She seems nice. I made the pie. Looked for curtains online, but didn't find any I liked. That's about it. Rather boring I'm afraid. Hoping to change that once I'm settled in more and explore more. How about yours?"
"No, no, you're right. It's definitely a bachelor pad. I had a roommate when I first got here, but he got taken by whatever force brings us here in the first place." Matt may not have been able to see the look on Eliot's face, but he heard the change in his tone, which made him quick to reassure. "It's just been me for a while now."
He took a step to the side and leaned against the counter containing the alcohol he'd set out. "She really is nice. Between her and Pepper, you really can't be steered wrong." Waving a hand to his bare windows, Matt smiled. "I'd offer you my own curtains, but they kind of went away when the roommate did, and I didn't see much point in replacing them. But me? I made it a quiet night in: couple of drinks, finished an audio book. I can be pretty boring if I put my mind to it. I've heard the city has a decent nightlife, though, so you're probably right about you not falling into my same fate. What did you do before you got here, aside from being the king of Fillory?"
“Having a roommate can be overrated. I need my privacy sometimes.” Eliot’s brows lifted as he looked to the bare windows. “Bit of an exhibitionist?” He joked with a chuckle. Looking back at Matt he raised his hand and waved it then made a goofy face at him. Nothing. He was blind. “Oh, I have curtains. I just don’t like them.”
“Quiet nights are needed now and then. No, not you, Mr. I have a lot of fun.” He smirked and looked to the alcohol setting out. “I fully intend to take full advantage of the nightlife and more. Might as well live it up. Who knows when the universe may decide to pull me out of here and somewhere else. So, what do you want to drink?”
Ah, the Test. Matt's mouth twitched at one side, and he wondered if there'd been a face involved, too. Such a shame he could barely remember what they looked like. All too often his memories were tied up in his childhood anyway, of making faces at his bathroom mirror or stitching up his dad's face after a fight. "I have shades in my bedroom, and promise to at least have boxers on when I leave it. No accidental indecent exposure for me, if I can help it."
Not quite an obvious misdirection, but Matt recognized the unanswered question as a clear sign of a topic best not broached. He chuckled, rolling with it. "Hey, aren't you stealing my line? I'm the host here, remember? But I think I'll start out with wine and hit the harder stuff once I've gotten something more substantial than fruit snacks on my stomach. What about you?"
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He laughed. “Of course I’m stealing your line. It’s a habit when you’re the resident bartender.” He paused for a moment. “You asked what I was doing before I came here. I was in graduate school. A university for magic. I’m a magician. But mostly I was just trying to make it through the day. It’s not something I want to talk about now.” He paused again. “There was always something or someone to save, to try and make right. It was a lot.” But he missed it more than he could put in words.
He thought for a moment. A nice hard drink sounded good, but perhaps not yet. “I think wine sounds good to start off with.”
Matt wouldn't have needed to see the look on his face to get that touch of pain, to feel it like it was his own. He hesitated for a moment before reaching for Eliot's arm and touching it lightly. "Yeah, of course. We can talk or not talk about whatever you feel like. And…I kind of get it—and that's not just the Catholic guilt speaking." With a chuckle, he moved around the counter to get to the glasses and poured a measure of wine into both without a wobble or spilling a drop, sending a smirk in his companion's direction. "Why not let me field the plain stuff, and you can impress me later with the fancier things?"
He tilted his chin toward the door. "Food should be here in about ten seconds. If you can grab it, I can bring over plates and napkins. And the wine, of course."
Eliot glanced to his arm when Matt touched it. “Thank you.” Some things were still too raw and with what he learned since arriving, confusing. He got a strong feeling that the other understood though and was grateful for any subject change. “I’ll completely dazzle you with my mad mixologist skills,” he grinned then took a sip of wine.
“No problem.” He sat down his glass and right about that time a knock came on the door. He gathered the food then took it to the table. “Planning on feeding an army?” He teased. He began unpacking boxes and setting them out. “I really hope you possibly got some sweet and sour chicken and egg rolls. It’s probably a good thing you can’t see me because I love egg rolls and I tend to devour them,” he laughed. If Matt had even ordered them. “Oh.” Eliot froze. “Yeah, I kind of figured out you’re blind. I didn’t mean to just word vomit that.” He stood there. “Sorry.” He ran a hand over his head then began opening the cartons.
"Well, as you've pointed out, I am blind, which makes cooking an adventure that usually results in the smoke alarm getting a regular workout." Matt laughed and put the plates and cutlery on the coffee table. "When I order, I tend to get enough for a few days anyway, so that might have something to do the whole… overboard-ness going on here." Reaching into the bag, he rooted around for a few seconds before pulling out a bag of egg rolls and another of fried wontons, and a third container that he presented with a grin. "I'm not saying I'm psychic, but… I do actually have abilities. They generally don't include guessing a new friend's delivery order, however. That's just a bonus this time."
Eliot was glad Matt didn’t take any offense to him, basically blurting out that he was blind. He seemed the type who could roll with things or at least sense when someone didn’t mean any harm. “Remind me to bring an extra fire extinguished if you ever cook,” he joked with a chuckle. “I get it. Leftovers mean you don’t have to cook the next day.”
He eyed Matt then took the carton and opened it to discover it was sweet and sour chicken. He grinned then added some to his plate. “Abilities? Do tell me about them.” He wondered if Matt meant heightened senses because he was blind or something else. He added a couple of the egg rolls to his plate. “I don’t mean to offend you or anything, but do you need any help making a plate?” He cringed a little because he knew Matt was capable of taking care of himself, but he was trying to be helpful and not patronizing.
"Or the next day or the day after that, if I can help it. But I appreciate you having the best interest of our fellow Station-ers at heart for the next time I get a wild hare to try to tackle the kitchen on my own." Matt waved a hand to dismiss the request, and remained smiling. "If this was a date, I'd probably take you up on it, but I can manage just fine."
Like with the egg rolls and the sweet and sour chicken, he fished out another container and plated up some rice and kung pao shrimp and a couple of the wontons. Was he showing off? Maybe a little. "It's kind of like echolocation. I can't see much past shadows and vague shapes, but with my hearing being the way it is, it's almost like getting a picture of the physical world that I can navigate. Sometimes I get vague colors, too. Not from my hearing, obviously. Or maybe not obviously. I'm still not sure what was in the chemicals that got into my eyes when I was kid, but here we are. Matt Murdock, the blind vigilante."
Eliot nodded and finished making his plate, grabbing one of the small dipping sauce containers for his egg rolls. He took a sip of wine then dug into the food. "Thank you for dinner, by the way." He listened as Matt explained his abilities. "How very interesting." Obviously not the part where he got acid in his eyes. "So like a bat, kind of."
Vigilante. Of course. "Vigilantes and superheros. This San Francisco should be uber safe." He smirked and ate more. The food was good. He noted the name on the bag and would definitely call them when he didn't feel like cooking.
It was as good an analogy as anything. Really, Matt was hard pressed to accurately describe what his world was like to most people, so he let them fill in the blanks however they could to make it relevant. He almost choked on his bite of shrimp, but managed to swallow it down without incident, all due to the fact that he'd snorted. "Way too safe, really. Do you know how boring my patrols usually are? I'm lucky if I get to chase a few jerks off who are harassing the homeless population."
He'd meant it as a joke, but the reality curdled it in his stomach. He, too, took a drink in an attempt to banish the darker thoughts. "So, uh, magic, huh? Is it pretty common, since you have a university for it? I'm afraid I haven't been able to talk to your friends much about it—Quentin and Julia, right?"
"A safe neighborhood isn't a bad thing." Especially considering the world at large, but did that apply to this place? "Mmm, boring I am not a fan. I loathe being bored."
"Yes, Julia and Quentin are friends and magicians." His thoughts wandered for a few moments, but he quickly shook his head to clear them. "No, it's not common. Not everyone where we come from has magic and Brakebills is a hidden University. You have to be invited to take the entrance exam. A lot of people where I'm from don't believe in real magic." Not that he could blame them when it was so hidden.
He ate some more and finished off his wine. "So do you have your own practice here or are you part of a firm?" He reached for the bottle and poured himself more. "Would you like more wine?"
"Cheers to the mistakes made when trying to keep the boredom at bay." Oh, and he had a few. Matt felt his mouth lift at one corner in a wry expression. "You don't have to sell me on the existence of magic. When a mystical force brings your ex-girlfriend back from the dead, it kind of makes you a believer. And then there's the whole Dr. Strange thing. I'm sure it's not the same as your magic, but still. I don't take much convincing."
He took a last swallow and then nodded. "One more glass, and then whatever you surprise me with after. I'm not a young man anymore, and I still have to work tomorrow. My buddy and I used to have a firm out of Hell's Kitchen, presenting the neighborhood when and where we could and picking up the odd case from outside firms when they didn't want to handle it and we could use the funds. But, yeah, I joined a firm here, just last month. It makes it a little awkward that there's another Matt Murdock, Attorney at Law, running around out there already. What do you think you might do? Any ideas? Surely there's someplace out there that can use a royal mixologist."
“Cheers to that.” Eliot drank deeply. “I wasn’t trying to convince you of magic. Just telling you what it’s like where I’m from. A lot don’t believe in it. At least not beyond street magicians and professional illusionists which aren’t real magic.” Damn it. His thoughts wandered again. Focus. He needed to focus. “There’s a lot of different magic certainly which is a good thing.” In his opinion at least.
“Sounds like a plan.” He poured Matt more wine. “I couldn’t imagine being a lawyer. I’m not sure I have the patience for it, but kudos to those who do. They’re needed.” He drank more wine and sighed a little. “I got a job offer my first day here. A bartender at a karaoke club, but I’m not sure that’s where I want to work. I’ve been giving thought to something like working in a boutique or men’s clothing shop. I love clothes and fashion. Or maybe a bartender at a nightclub or something altogether different. The field is wide open here. I hadn’t given a career much thought back home. There was too much going on.”
He came so close to asking "like what?" that he had to stuff an entire piece of shrimp into his mouth just to keep the words in his head. Eliot had made it very clear that he didn't want to talk about it, and Matt wasn't going to be the asshole who kept bringing it up anyway. Instead, he swallowed roughly, but came out the other side of it with a smile. "Thoughts on being a personal dresser? It wouldn't be a regular gig, of course, but if you're as sartorially talented as I think you are or as you sound like, then maybe I should get you to come with me to get some new suits. Maybe a wardrobe refresh. For a fee, of course, not just a couple of drinks and some Chinese delivery."
Eliot certainly wasn’t expecting such an offer and it caught him off guard. “Yeah, I’d like that,” he smiled. “I mean I’ve never had such a job, but I promise I have good taste. Julia and Quentin could vouch for that. I Margo were here she would as well. We loved shopping and helping each other pick out the perfect outfits. I really miss her.” Sadness washed over him and he cleared his throat. “If she were here she’d say, ‘El, you take that offer because no one here is more qualified to help this man pick out tasteful, fashionable and gorgeous suits and clothes than you are.’” He chuckled a little. “Loyal as the day is long and always there for me.”
Time to move on to another subject. “I’m finished eating. It was good. Thank you for getting dinner. It’s on me next time. Or I’ll cook.” He stood and started cleaning up. “I’ll put the leftovers away then make you that drink.”
"You're making me a bad host," Matt protested weakly, but didn't do much more than consolidate a few of the boxes for easy carrying. Truth was, all that talk about friends like the one Eliot clearly had made Matt miss his own. An ache for Foggy and Karen opened up in him, made him long for something reckless and dangerous to throw himself into just so he didn't have to feel this. But he had a guest. And he couldn't go into Daredevil mode with someone else around, even if he'd skirted the topic already. It was a far cry from talking about a thing and actually putting on his standard outfit and slipping out into the night.
After far too long a time, one he couldn't easily brush off as anything but getting lost in his own thoughts, Matt turned a smile in the direction he could hear Eliot moving around in and offered a quiet and sincere, "Thanks."
“Nonsense,” Eliot said with a wave of his hand. He carried the leftovers to the kitchen and put them in the fridge then threw away the empty containers. He sensed the shift in mood and wondered if he’d made Matt think of home and miss his friends. He knew the feeling all too well.
“So let’s see what we have here…” He looked over everything on the counter. “I really need to stock up my own bar at my place. I’ve talked to a lot of people, but haven’t had anyone over yet.” Hmm. He turned and went to the cabinets opening doors until he found a couple of glasses then filled them with ice. He opened the fridge praying Matt had orange juice and smiled when he saw some. Sure fresh oranges would be better, but such was life. Going back to the counter he opened the vodka and added it to each glass then the orange juice. He gave them a stir then grabbed the Galliano and poured it on top. Just a few dashes.
“Here you go.” He walked back over to the table and made sure Matt had his drink before he sat down. “It’s a Harvey Wallbanger. Fresh orange juice would be better, but the vodka is always the star,” he grinned. “Tell me what you think and be honest.”
The smile on Matt's face only deepened after he took a sniff of the proffered drink. "I don't think I've had one of these since undergrad. Man, this takes me back." He took a tasting sip and then immediately a much deeper one. "Oh, man. I can see why you're known for your mixology. This is really good. Hits you right in the back of the jaw, but goes down with a complex sweetness—even if the oranges are store-bought. Make something like this for any potential employers, and you'd be in for sure." Matt grinned wickedly. "Even if it's not a bar."
“Everyone needs a ‘Wallbanger’ now and then,” he laughed then took a sip of his. His smile grew. “Oh stop, you’ll make me blush.” He grinned and shook his head, but took the compliment and was grateful for it. “Well, I got my first job without it, so I’ll go on thinking it was my pure charm that landed me as a personal dresser.” He took another sip then relaxed and leaned back against the couch. “Do let me know when you need me. No rush. I’m here all week…all eternity perhaps.” He made a slight face at the thought.
“So tell me more about you. Hobbies, hopes, dreams, why you aren’t hitched or in a hot relationship,” he chuckled.
Matt came so close to choking on his drink, he actually had to cough and pat at his chest. "Maybe my lack of 'Wallbangers' is the reason I'm not hitched or in a hot relationship. Take that however you will. As for the rest? Why does this sound like I'm the one going on an interview, or being vetted for a potential date?" He smirked at Eliot before leaned against the couch back as well, drink securely held in his lap. "No, but really, I workout, listen to a lot of audio books and podcasts. Sometimes I dress up and go find crime to fight. That… could actually go a long way in explaining why I don't have a significant other."
Eliot threw his head back and laughed out loud. "Could be." He laughed again and shook his head. "Oh, Matt, I'm not interviewing you or vetting you for a potential date. That doesn't happen until I've met someone at least twice," he joked, clearly amused. Though he hoped the other didn't think he was hitting on him or something because he wasn't. Being a little cheeky and flirty perhaps but those were just a natural part of who he was. "Darling, how am I supposed to get to know you better if I don't ask such things?" And yes, he used darling very much on purpose in this instance.
He quirked an eyebrow. “You get dressed up and go out to fight crime? Like a superhero? Or you just love getting justice and keeping the neighborhood safe?” Matt was a lawyer after all. He was also blind. So how did he see to fight crime?
Raising his hands as best he could with one still holding his drink, Matt chuckled as well. "Hey, fair enough. I have it on good authority that I'm way more charming than is good for me—the authority being pretty much every person in my life. It's gotten me in trouble on more than one occasion. Oops." His grin deepened at the pet name, but figured it was probably used just to prove Eliot's point, or to wheedle him for his own light flirtations. He really was just like this, when he wasn't fighting for his life or the people and neighborhood he loved. "Well, here at least, I'm an open book. Usually I don't lead with the whole Daredevil thing. Or drop it into the first meeting."
Matt shrugged a shoulder and set his head in his hand where it was leaned against the back of the couch. "I don't have my suit anymore. Not spandex or anything. More like body armor. But I use what I used to before I got all that: essentially black workout clothes and something to cover the top half of my face. I don't have powers or anything, not more than the whole echolocation thing, but I was trained to fight when I was a kid and sort of stuck with it. And after a while, I just got tired of no one doing enough to keep my neighborhood safe. So I did it myself. Have you talked to Claire yet? Claire Temple? She can tell you all about the many, many times I've skirted death because at the end of the day, I'm still very, very human."
“Then being incredibly charming is something we both have in common. I told Loki I could out charm him in my sleep,” he laughed. “I’m sure he can be charming, but he’s not competition in the charm department." He took a few more sips of his drink. “No? You don’t lead with that info? Are you saying I’m special? I think that’s what you’re saying, Matt. I think that’s what I’m picking up on here.” Eliot was grinning ear to ear and doing his best to hold back a chuckle.
“Seems like this is something you take quite serious. It’s kind of dangerous though.” He was grinning again because danger wasn’t always bad. “No, can’t say I’ve talked to Claire Temple. I’m still new though. Be careful out there. I mean, it doesn’t seem like there’s a lot of crime here, but what do I know?” He drank some more then shifted to stretch out his long legs.
Just the mention of Loki was enough to make Matt's smile slip. Even twelve years later (fourteen, with the time shift he'd experienced when he got pulled here), the memories of the Battle of New York were still fresh. He tried to regain some of this equanimity, but took a drink instead, and wound up finishing it off. "Look, Eliot, I'm the last guy who should be warning anybody off anyone else, but be careful with him, with Loki. He seems harmless, but he hurt a lot of people in New York—and beyond—a few years back. He tried to subjugate the entire planet. I don't know if this version of him is any different, but I pray for all our sakes that he is."
Matt shook his head and pushed out a quiet breath. "I might not be able to see you smile, but I have vague memories of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, and I have a feeling that's exactly what you look like. Or are trying to keep from looking like. You should meet Claire, though. She's really good people. A lot of people around here are."
The shift in Matt's demeanor and even the air was obvious. Shit. Was he a friend of Loki's and his harmless teasing offended him? Eliot worried more when the man downed his drink. When Matt spoke his words weren't all that surprising and a relief came over him that he hadn't upset him. "I appreciate the warning, but I can take care of myself. I think Loki is anything but harmless. He seems...nice, but he's a God and full of himself and mischief. I don't mind bantering back and forth with him, but believe me, my eyes are wide open."
He took a long draw from his drink. "Well, I was grinning like that. Sorry. I didn't know Loki was a do not bring up topic. I'll remember that from now on." He drank some more. "I will say everyone I've met so far has been friendly. I haven't..." His words trailed off. "I haven't met any assholes yet," he chuckled.
On the one hand, Matt felt a little bad for saying anything about one of his neighbors, but on the other, fuck that. It was Loki.
"Hold on to that 'yet'." Matt tipped his empty glass toward his new friend. "We have a few characters, and you've never seen me at the bottom of a Catholic shame spiral. It's not pretty. Again, ask Claire. She has a few horror stories." His smile fit back to his face, and it felt better now, more honest and free. He liked Eliot, liked his easy charm and the way it bulldozed past Matt's usual reserve. "I'm not kicking you out by any means, but I thought I'd go ahead and say thanks for coming over. This is fun. I think I need more of that in my life."
“Oh, I will. I know they’re out there and that sooner or later I’ll come across them.” Never mind that if in a mood he himself could be one. “Catholic shame spiral, eh? I’m not scared. I’ve been at the bottom of my own spirals and been there when others have them. It can be rough, but we all experience them from time to time. Because beneath all this dazzling charm, I can get in moods. I’ve been called an asshole a number of times.” He grinned then propped his arm up on the back of the couch and rested his head on his hand. “I am not one though. I just have my moments.”
“Thank you for inviting me. Need more what? ‘Wallbangers’? Eliot Waugh? Fun times? I’m all of the above.” He laughed softly. “Seriously, it is fun. After everything back home and always feeling like life was in a constant state of chaos or near chaos, it’s nice to just relax, slow down and have some fun.” Eliot finished his drink and sat the glass on the table. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome, so just say the word when you do want me to go.”
Matt snorted a laugh. "I could settle for all of the above. And then maybe one more drink? At this rate, I'll definitely be able to sleep straight through the night quite comfortably."
“Sure, coming right up. I’ll surprise you.” Eliot stood and went back to the kitchen. He suddenly smelled the Dutch Apple pie which he’d completely forgotten about. He turned the oven off then sat it on the counter. “We forgot about the pie. I’ll leave it here for you.”
He mixed up two drinks and took them back to the living room handing one to Matt. They continued talking, laughing and well, getting to know each other better. When he left he thanked Matt again for an enjoyable evening and said he’d see him soon.