Matt had to fight the urge to retort to the obvious statement, biting back a No shit, Sherlock or even the famous Duh in response. Neither seemed to suit the situation, so the anti-hero just took a deep breath instead and regained his focus. "I've been blind since I was a boy. I was in an accident, some weird chemical out of a big truck splashed into my face and eyes and since then I haven't been able to see," Matt explained. It was easier than dealing with the look from a man with no sense of humor.
Lifting a gloved hand, Matt's fingers touched lightly at the two D emblems on his chest. Daredevil, he called himself. The Devil of Hell's Kitchen, they had called him. "I didn't coin the name. It's what the people back home started calling me, the bad guys. They said I moved like a dark shadow, that they were afraid of being beaten by the Devil himself. The Devil costume is to ensue fear into them to deter them from wrongdoing. It doesn't always work the way I want it to, which is why I fight." He felt that was explaination enough.