Who: Matt Murdock and OPEN What: boredom Where: Mitchell's When: Thursday night Status: OPEN Rating: TBD
Matt had to admit, the quiet was getting to him. And not just the literal quiet, but having nothing to do wasn't going well for him. He didn't know how to act when there wasn't anything happening, no one who needed help or cases that needed to be looked at. Frankly, he was bored.
He wandered the streets for a little while, wearing what amounted to half of his fight suit (the black pants) and half of his usual wardrobe (one of his softer button down shirts), not wanting to bother with his suits just to walk around a city where no one cared what he wore. The suit, be it the one he wore at night or in the court, was like his armor, proving to the world that he wasn't broken and less-than just because he couldn't see things the way they did. But here...he didn't need it. There wasn't anyone to whisper as he passed or tell their children 'sometimes people get broken' or try to help in ways that were highly unhelpful. He let his guard down, just a little. And prayed that it wouldn't come back to bite him
He stepped in a few stores, poking around here and there before he came across the pub again. He knew it easily, the scent of alcohol and smoke and even old sex permeated the air. It reminded him of Josie's. He remembered the first night he'd been here, that Mouse told him it was self-serve and free so he made his way behind the bar. It was hard to tell many of the bottles apart-they often had similar shape and size and he wasn't familiar with most of the ones here-so he took to smelling them; popping the top off, giving a sniff and setting them back down until he found a whiskey that smelled good. Well aged and smooth. It'd due. He grabbed a glass and some ice and sat himself at the bar, contemplating this strange, strange glass as he sipped it down.