Matt was, if anything, secure in his sexuality. The idea that people might mistake him for a gay man really didn't do much to ruffle his feathers- and if the tabloids got ahold of it, it would just be another nail in their own coffins as far as trying to prove that their claims that he was Daredevil held any merit. The blind, gay, Catholic lawyer from Hell's Kitchen was secretly masquerading as a vigilante in bright red pajamas with horns after hours. How ridiculous they'd sound- even if three of four of those descriptors were true. And Danny could be accused of not even putting on clean shirts in the morning, so he was hardly going to balk at whatever impressions people gathered of him. And thus the game continued.
Matt shrugged, peeling off his suit jacket and hanging it up on the coat rack behind his desk. He even unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves; but he didn't bother tucking his tie into his shirt. There were traditional standards as far as keeping one's suit clean while eating lunch, and then there were steps that Matt considered unnecessary.
Reaching out, he drew the beef and broccoli container over and opened the plastic lid with a little flourish, tossing it into the empty bag as easily as as sighted person might throw a ball of paper into the garbage, but he quit showing off when Danny thanked him, his head tilting in one direction as he regarded his friend.
It wasn't difficult to tell that Danny was sincere- by his voice alone, if not by the steadiness of his heart beat, and Matt gave a slow shake of his head. "Even if you hadn't already thanked me, Danny, it's not necessary. You're my friend, and I'd prefer you stay alive to continue being my friend for some time yet." Matt didn't mention that he didn't have many friends and therefore couldn't afford to lose any of them. He figured that went without saying. He also might have added that, had their positions been reversed, Danny would hardly have left him bleeding in a Daredevil-shaped crater in a car... but he thought that was fairly obvious as well.
"I don't see the point of owning a car in New York." Matt chided flatly, sending Danny's joke right back at him, "I'd have to pay for it to sit on the street." Matt picked up his chopsticks and broke them in half, carefully scraping any errant splinters off before picking at his lunch. "But if you're giving out cars, I think I'd do well with a red convertible. Maybe I'll even go get my license."