"Matthew D." (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} propatria) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} rooms, |
[He had left the mask on his new acquaintance, making no move to pull it off, and was a little surprised to see Matthew remove it as his friend arrived. So he cared what she thought about him, which meant they had a relationship that went at least a little past sewing up wounds and putting him up in her apartment. That small act clinched several assumptions for him.
Clem, as she approached, would have seen him straighten a little, checking to be sure she was who they'd expected before relaxing again, though not entirely. He'd done his best to compress Matt's wounds and check his vitals, after briefly disappearing to clean the stairs of spattered blood. While Matt was charming the pants off his understandably angry friend, he was watching her, assessing. She was casually dressed and beautiful, clean and professional in all aspects of her appearance outside her current outfit. This wasn't a poor woman, and the FDNY T-shirt answered to her occupation. She had said she worked across the street, and he felt a brief moment of cognitive dissonance. Women were firefighters?
Bucky shot Matt a look that would obviously go unnoticed when he directed Clem's attention to the next warm body.] Was fighting when I walked by. [Bucky had come out of the fight relatively unscathed, saved for some bruises hidden by his clothes, but he'd been lucky enough to show up when Matt had already done the heavy lifting.] Can I help? [He didn't like just standing around watching somebody else work, despite the fact that, for whatever reason, he had no fear at all that Matt wouldn't survive this.]