Re: Hell's Kitchen, Marvel, Clem & Matt
[He could sense the crackle of electricity in the device, feel the intensely slight heat of a light on his skin, but he couldn’t see how it might detect blood under his skin. When he concentrated, he could detect too that others had worn it before, and the chemical cling of the lye-ish cleanser someone had used to wipe it clean. He determined that it would do him no harm, and her quiet, beat-steady confidence was further reassuring.
That, and he was probably too tired to win an argument of words, much less one of strength. He made a soft, somewhat reluctant sound of assent, and left it where it was, pressed into a few layers of scar tissue left by ropes and manacles of various types. He turned his head in her direction and his lips creased ever, ever so slightly. When his face was healed it would probably be a fine, roguish smile. Just now it looked like pounded meat folding.] O, bits and bobs. Matthew Murdock has traveled wide, and hath more the ruling of a country than that most sovereign of kings. [This was, undoubtedly, a boast, but also, in some cases, true. He sobered.] ’Twas a hasty thing to take such a man into thy bed. Thinkest thou I should not depart soon?
[As he spoke he rolled the pills in his battered fingers, exploring their shape. Before she could give further direction he put one to his teeth and bit it in half, making a sour face at the bitter taste, and then swallowing it and its fellows with a gulp from the bottle. He finished all the water, somewhat sloppily, thirsty and obviously preventing himself from asking before. He looked doubtful when she spoke of her sins. The sins of the petty rich, perhaps, a bad word here or there, perhaps an unworthy lover.] Naught the church cannot undo afore God. [It was meant to be reassuring.]