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matt (daredevil) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-06-01 00:58:00

Who: Matt Murdock daredevil & Heather Miller heathermiller
What: Discussing colors
When: Tuesday, May 31
Where: Miller's Meats
Rating: Audience Discretion is Advised
Warnings: Mentions of violence.
Status: Complete Upon Posting


~*~

Dreams plagued Matt Murdock's nights. Sometimes it was the same one over and over. Sometimes he was a boy being blinded by something foreign---something which burned worse than fire. Sometimes Matt remembered the exact color of the sky as it faded from his view forever. Sometimes Matt remembered things so vividly he couldn't believe they weren't memories at all but dreams.

Every night made it a little harder to reconcile the difference between the fictional fabrications of his sleeping mind and the reality he knew in his waking hours.

Matt had taken an Uber to Miller's Meats on a whim. For days, all he had been able to remember had been the way raw steak looked pressed to his father's beaten face. His fake father? His real father? Matt's father had been a lawyer like himself. His mother had been a corporate marketing executive. Jack and Maggie Murdock had given him life from their biological matter, but they'd never been in his life until he started dreaming Dreams.

The bell rang over the door loudly enough to Matt's new senses to make him have to pause for breath. He forced a smile as the sound radiated through him, resonating off every surface so he really didn't need the cane he carried to guide him to the counter. It comforted him to carry the cane. It made him more acceptable to other people as well since they were used to seeing a blind man walking with a cane.

Sometimes Matt couldn't remember why he didn't need the cane while other times---other times he couldn't remember why he'd ever needed it at all.

"Hello? I have a strange question. If you have the time, of course," Matt paused at the counter where he heard the attendant working -a woman, beautiful from what his new senses told him- though he didn't acknowledge he knew she was a woman or beautiful.

People didn't expect a blind man to know things Matt knew now.

Matt didn't expect to know the things he knew now.

He was still adjusting between what was real and what was only dreams which was why he was standing in front of a meat counter, smiling vacantly at a blank wall as if he didn't know the woman stood exactly three feet and seven inches to his left.


~*~

"Strange is actually the norm here in Orange County." Heather replied with a light laugh, as she pushed herself back away from the counter. There were always all types that came into Miller's Meats, and she wasn't too concerned with him bumping into anything due to the cane he was carrying.

At least, she was hopeful that he wouldn't bump into any displays, but there was always that chance that he would. Heather pulled a pen and pad of paper towards her, and then glanced back over at the man.

"So what strange question do you have?" She'd heard a lot of strange questions coming from people lately. There were plenty of people here in the OC that had strange dietary needs, and she could help with them if they came to her and asked. Heather was happy to help the other dreamers of the Network. They'd been a good support system for her, and she was more than happy to help out when they came calling.

~*~

"I'm blind."


'Hello, Captain Obvious. Welcome to Earth.'

Matt resisted the urge to roll his eyes at himself. He did allow himself a small expression of disgust at his idiocy. What kind of opening was that? It would have been easier if he'd told her he was from Valarnet which was where he'd gotten the address for her shop. She knew the OC was a mess of a place. There was a good chance she understood without him having to spell it out for her why he was having a hard time with life lately. It was easier to move on than move back which was why Matt chose to roll ahead with his question.

"I mean, I was born blind. I haven't been sighted. In this life. Lately, in my dreams, I've seen things. That's not unusual or anything you haven't heard before I'm sure. I've seen colors though. Real colors. I think."

How would he even know if they were real?

"My father -in the dreams- he was a boxer. I had to put meat on his face. After a fight. One he lost? I can't remember the details, but the steak was red. Is that the right color? Red? Is meat really red?"

~*~

"Uh-huh." Heather replied with a nod, a smile still pulling up the corners of her mouth. Her smile only grew at the look of disgust that crossed his features, and she canted her head slightly to the side as he began talking about his life and his other life.

"Ah, a dreamer from the network?" She asked, brows raising slightly. That made a lot of sense to her. Some of her customers were actually from the network, and Heather knew exactly what they all were talking about when they mentioned dreams and weirdness. Her dreams were definitely of the fucked up variety.

Heather had heard, or rather, seen boxers on movies and TV shows putting steaks over their eyes. She wasn't quite sure why they did that, and honestly, she hadn't thought to ask anyone about it either. Maybe now was an opportune time, however, she was going to answer his question first before asking one of her own.

"Steaks are yes. Beef in general is, everything else, like chicken or pork tends to be pale pink." There were other types of meats that were darker, but most people were only concerned about those three. "Now it's my turn for a question. What exactly does the steak do for a black eye other than just act as a cold compress?"

~*~

Medicine wasn't something Matt had practiced in this life. Sports medicine or otherwise had been useless to him to learn because he'd never been in a fight or seen a fight or seen anything. He could fight now though, couldn't he? Matt knew if he moved a certain way? He'd be able to see better than most sighted people could. His senses were more acute than anything Matt had ever imagined being possible. There was no way he could be considered a normal person any longer. The way he could move? See without seeing? Matt wasn't sure he could be considered anywhere close to normal any longer.

"Honestly? It just acts as a cold compress. The cold lowers the swelling. Meat holds cold longer than some alternatives. It's not as harsh as solid ice. There's also the benefit of being able to eat it once it thaws out."

He grinned slightly.

"In the Dreams? My family wasn't the wealthiest so steak was a treat. We usually had it for the fight nights. A gift from my father's trainer to keep him in fighting form---which I didn't really understand since my dad? Lost a lot. It wasn't until I was older I realized he was taking a dive on purpose. Feels weird saying all that as if it really happened. My biological parents gave me up for adoption. My father who raised me? He was a lawyer, same as me. That man knew nothing about fighting. I do. Now. Strangely enough. What does pink look like? Less red?"

~*~

"Ah, see I didn't know if there was some sort of magic behind it." Heather probably should've known, however, she honestly didn't know if there was some sort of trick behind it or not. "And that is also true. There's nothing like a nice cut steak." Heather chuckled softly, shifting slightly on her feet before folding her arms over her chest.

She listened to him speak about his dreams, about how different they were from his life here. She could understand that all too well. Her parents here weren't nearly as dickish as her parents in her dreams. Her dream parents had been a nightmare, and her biological parents? Well, you could forget that. They were apparently crazies, but then again, Heather could imagine wanting to defend her family if a mob came after them.

Now.

The word stuck out to Heather like a sore thumb, but she opted to, once again, answer his question before posing another one of her own. "It is a lesser version of red. Most of it is almost as if the red is all gone out of it, leaving just behind a tinge. Pork is darker pink, while Chicken is nearly white." She wasn't sure if she was explaining things right, that'd never been Heather's forte.

"You said now though about your fighting skills. Did you learn that from the dreams?" She asked, canting her head to the side.

~*~

How was Matt supposed to explain the life he apparently led inside his Dreams? He was two different people in them and neither of those men were anything close to the man he was here in Orange County. Matt had never been a man to fight for the little guy. The underdog had his own kind to fight for him while Matt had to look out for the interests of people he was raised to understand. It was a strange thing to think he had no interest in saving the innocent or fighting for the innocent when really? Matt had never had the opportunity put before him.

"I did."

That was easy enough.

Matt canted his head to the side. He tried to imagine color fading away. He could only see the world on fire, burning from the way people moved, melted almost around him from their biological signatures setting off his inhumanly fast senses. The woman had a way with words. It would have been nice to have met her under other circumstances. As it was, Matt took his glasses off to let his sightless eyes blink straight ahead at nothing. He snapped his wrist, sending his cane folding back up before he put it along with his shades on the counter.

"Want to see something really cool? Throw something at me. Doesn't matter what it is---you won't hit me. Guaranteed."

~*~

Heather had believed that she'd heard right, and she watched him curiously as he moved to put his things down onto the counter. Her eyes went from the items back up to his face, brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "I…" Well, there were plenty of people with strange powers, hell, she'd just met an alien for fuck's sake, so why wouldn't she believe this guy even if he did seem very normal to her.

Heather glanced around at the counter, finding a pen that sat beside the cash register. "I'm all for seeing cool things, but if you're wrong? I'm going to feel bad and give you a steak on the house." She laughed softly before picking up the pen. Heather made sure that the cap was on tightly before she drew her arm back and tossed it at him.

~*~

Wind could be heard from all over when it was moving quickly enough. People never put enough faith in air. Matt Murdock knew how it was the smallest of signs which could topple a war from one side's favor to the other's and he always listened. Now? He listened better than anyone else alive as far as he knew. It was a cruel world which had stolen his ability to see---except nothing had been stolen from him, had it? Hadn't he been born this way? Blind? Were the images remembered from his dreams anything to put his faith in at all?

Catching the pen deftly, Matt twirled it between his fingers as he quirked a brow, "Thank you for the offer, but I honestly prefer to get my steak already cooked. I'm not much of a chef. I think I'm pretty good with knives though, if that's any consolation?"

~*~

Heather was actually impressed that he managed to catch the pen, not that she shouldn't doubted him, but she was still trying to get used to this whole supernatural, super powers, whatever the hell you wanted to call them types. "I'd think it's safe to say that you would be good with knives if you caught that." She chuckled softly, unsure of really what else to say in that moment.

"I can understand that. Still, there's nothing like cooking your own steak at home with the right seasoning and temperature it's better than eating one at any fancy restaurant." Heather, of course, was biased in her opinion and believed that she could cook a steak better than any other place she'd been to before.

~*~

"Maybe I'll find the time to ask someone out who can cook?"

Matt wasn't certain if he was asking a question or making a statement. It was hard to tell how he felt these days. All he knew was things weren't getting better for him courtesy of the dreams. They also weren't going back to whatever passed for normal. He couldn't stop the knowledge filling his head night after night any more than he could turn off whatever switch had been flipped inside him to make him into---whatever he was now. He didn't know if he would turn it off or not even if he could.

"I seem to have a lot more time to kill these days. I might actually meet someone. It's been---a long time. Thank you. For speaking with me. I'm Matt Murdock. You can catch me on the network. In case you want to say hello again sometime."