Log: Matt and Warren

[x-daredevil.livejournal.com]

The pieces begin to fall into place and connections are made.



Over the weekend, Matt realized why Warren's voice kept poking at him, like he knew it. Of course he knew it, Warren was his boss, but it was more than that. The realization had hit him like a ton of bricks during his morning coffee. Warren was Angel. They'd met as alter-ego's over a week earlier. Huh.

Then he'd had to figure out what to do with that information. That had been much more difficult. Finally though, Matt requested a meeting with Warren and was informed that it would be scheduled over lunch. He couldn't feign ignorance, not with working on the mutant project. "Warren," he said once Jolene let him in the office. "Do you have time to go out for lunch? This is a more...personal, private matter."

‎Warren gave him a strange look, and was almost ready to ask questions, but he stopped himself.

Instead, he leaned back in his chair, a pen flitting across his knuckles as he observed the younger man.‎ Matt had proved himself to be a valuable member of the working group but he was still simply a junior member.

"Mr. Murdock," Warren began, subtly reminding him of his place. "I assure you that this room is private and whatever you say will be confidential."

"Yes sir..." Matt understood the pecking order. "However," it wasn't like him to show nervousness life this and if it were a meeting or a client, he wouldn't. This was different. He didn't have his mask on. "You should be aware that we have some mutual friends. They like eating tacos on rooftops." There. That was oblique enough.

Warren froze, before a blank look on his face‎ quickly came over his face. Daredevil and Spider-Man wouldn't have blabbed, would they?

Unless........no. There was no way Matt was one of those individuals. No way. The agility, the ease ‎with which both individuals had fought those would-be muggers....

"Tacos." That was all Warren could say. "Friends who enjoy tacos on rooftops."

Matt nodded, "They like tacos other times, too. Lunch. Snacks. It's a very flexible food. If you ever want them," this was why he had suggested they leave the office.

"I feel," Warren began slowly‎, "that this conversation could do with some openness because I have to admit, I'm not too sure what the point of this is."

That was probably true, but it also wasn't easy. "I'm curious how you hide those wings. It's an impressive wingspan."

Warren's heart sank. There were two options available -- feel relief that he didn't have to hide,or anger at himself for being discovered.

Anger was always easier.

"I'm not sure how that's any of your business," he replied coldly. "Now if that's everything, I'm a very busy man and have work to do."

That was true. It also wasn't a denial. Matt had expected more questions, truth be told. "This does explain why you want the corporate policies we're working on. If you want to come out, I'll probably be running this Thursday."

"No, thank you," came the immediate response. ‎

It was ironic how a conversation about his powers, which he was trying to deny, made him want to go and fly more than anything.

"Why are you telling me all this? It would be easier to have not said a thing.‎"

"True," Matt conceded, but he had realized he would have to offer the olive branch first, especially after M-Day, "but trust starts somewhere. And I'm blind and you're my boss. Proving anything is nearly impossible and I know you wouldn't recognize me. Therefore, trust." He was a lawyer, he weighed the pros and cons before he'd made this meeting.

"Blackmail and extortion don't require eyesight."

"Other than inviting you to join me, I've not threatened or asked anything," Matt pointed out calmly.

Warren sighed heavily and rubbed his face with both hands. "I need to apologize," he finally said. "You're right. You haven't done anything wrong. I've been inexcusably rude. I apologize. It's just that...well....". And here it was.

"No one knows about me."

"I assumed," Matt agreed, "And I won't tell. The Little Bug doesn't know and doesn't need to. As easy as not telling you would be, trust. I'm not looking for anything Mr. Worthington. But I am trusting you and asking for yours in return."

‎It took a few moments before Warren slowly nodded. "Alright. I'm not entirely comfortable talking about this, but I do appreciate your honesty." He cleared his throat. "So now what?"

Matt shrugged and checked the time on his watch, "Then I go get lunch unless you have anything else," it was about lunch hour after all. "I've never quite revealed myself like this either."

"So why now. That's what I'm having troubles with. You didn't need to say anything now. You could've done it later on, after we'd known each other more and had that opportunity to talk. But now, I don't know where we stand with each other, and that's a precarious position for me to be in."

Ah. Matt rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I didn't realize it was you on the roof. Your voice was familiar, but I didn't place it until the meeting the other day. I decided that the longer I waited, the more suspicious it would look. I either needed to say something soon or not say anything at all," he explained, "and I put myself in as much risk as you by telling you this."

Again, Warren nodded. "Your voice seemed vaguely familiar as well, but I doubt I would have been able to place it."

H‎e tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his desk.

"So what now?"

"That's up to you," Matt replied, "How you want to deal with this information. As I said, you're welcome to join me or us if I run into the Spiders, or not. All I ask is that you don't try to stop me," he didn't think Warren would, but for Matt it was more about getting out and being free from constraints of life than fighting crime specifically. If he was there, he helped. If he wasn't, he didn't look for it.

"As long as your extra-curricular activities don't infringe or impact your work schedule, I don't care what you do after hours." He reached for his ever present water bottle, and took a swig before continuing. "I don't particularly care to join anyone at this time; however, if I happen to see you, I will be sure to say hello. That's about all I can commit to right now."

"Of course," Matt didn't expect more than that, "Given opinions on mutants, I think it's important to connect with others, even if it's more peripherally."

There's that word again. Mutants. Warren hated it, hated that there was a term for him. Matt, on the other hand, seemed relatively at ease with his status. Maybe there was something Warren could learn from.

He hesitated. "If you don't mind me asking....what are your powers?" Realizing that that could be seen as rude, he quickly added, "You don't have to share if you don't want to. I understand if it's a private thing."

"I am blind," Matt restated, wanting that to be very clear. "And....that's a good question. Heightened senses is probably the easiest way to describe it. Makes spicy food problematic, but...it is what it is. My uncles enrolled me in judo classes and stuff as a teenager," no laser eyes for him sadly. Or wings.

He cocked his head. "Your blindness is a result if your mutation?"

"A childhood accident," Matt clarified, "One has nothing to do with the other."

"Fair enough. Watching you the other day, I would have never guessed it was you. It appears you know what you're doing. Self-taught, then?"

"People see what they want to see. They see me as blind so they don't think I'd ever do anything like that," Matt had had to learn to meditate and focus on things,which had helped bring clarity with his powers and prevent him from getting too overwhelmed. "But I wasn't always blind either," he had to remember seeing mannerisms, but it was easier to do when he wasn't also trying to hide them, though that didn't entirely make sense.

"A very good point. Image truly is everything." He gave a smile finally, and some tension went out of his shoulders.

"Well, Mr. Murdock. I appreciate your candor and honesty. Your secret is safe with me, and if I happen to see you in your travels, maybe.......maybe I'll join you."

Matt stood, recognizing that the meeting was over. Unfolding his cane, he gave a casual, two fingered salute, similar to what he had done when they'd met and were leaving, "I hope you do," he agreed. "Have a good lunch, Mr. Worthington."