Re: Roof, Hell's Kitchen: Clem, Bucky & Matt
[Matthew didn’t have the respect for his identity that the other would-be heroes of this world did. Matthew came from a place where the closest facsimile of a face was a crude woodcut illustration drawn by enterprising artists who hadn’t been the people doing the seeing. He had no real conception of how accurate a photograph or a camera could be, and in his own mind only he could accurately identify any individual when in their presence a second time. Factual concepts like these had still given him a miss; he knew what a camera was and what a photograph was, but not their function and use in this modern society. He heard the digital sound of snapping cameras in the alley below, the responding officer’s handheld, probably, and wondered at it. These people took photographs of everything.
Matthew was, and always would be, contentedly oblivious to any dirty looks shot his way. He did not underestimate the fine chance that had brought the soldier to his assistance. One might think God was in charity with him. If so, He was probably the only one. Matthew knew that Clementine was in a mood with him, but he was hoping he could talk her out of it if he survived the night.]
Ay. They came at your door. I think it certain they followed me in thy ambulatory vehicle. [It was sometimes difficult to remember that Matthew could be dead serious while sounding like a bad stage actor. His tone was thick, and he tried to breathe shallow. He heard the gurgle in his chest too—but he had heard it before, and survived it.] A few days and ’twill heal.
[He used the mask to press down on the knife wound and reached out in her general direction, taking her arm and obviously expecting that she would assist him into standing.] They know your place. We must hide in mine ’til I may put things aright. James must come as well, to protect you should they steal after. [He gave "James" a hopeful look. Or he sent in his general direction.]