Log: Matt and Felicia

[x-daredevil.livejournal.com]

Warren neglects Felicia and sends Matt to have lunch with her instead. Getting to know each other (and plotting to get back at Warren) ensues.



The text message from Warren wasn't very helpful, 'Meeting running long, meet Felicia downstairs. Be charming'. Okay then. Saving his work and getting up, Matt slipped his suit jacket on and headed to the elevators, cane arcing in front of him as he walked. It was about lunch time and most of his coworkers had already gone, but he had stayed behind to finish the document he was working on. Leaving now wouldn't be a problem for his boss, but the text message was still cryptic.

Heading to the front security desk, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to identify this Felicia. They had chatted once or twice over the journals, he assumed it was the same Felicia anyways, but he hadn't met her to know her heartbeat or perfume yet.

Having already used up all her regular time wasting activities - there were only so many times you could touch up your lipstick and scroll through IG - Felicia checked the time on her phone again, letting out a sharp, annoyed huff. While it wasn't like Warren was known for being on time, he generally didn't keep her waiting this long, and she really didn't want to go upstairs to seek out Jolene for what was going on. Opening up her messages she was mid text when 'Meeting. Sending minion. <3?' arrived with a cheerful ding.

"This is such a waste of my Ardells, Worthington," she muttered under her breath, clicking off her phone as she scanned the huge lobby for someone who looked appropriately put upon. A young man with a cane came around the corner and paused, pulling out his cell phone, and Felicia stared at him a moment - she remembered something about a blind lawyer, but you couldn't just ask someone if they were this blind guy from New York she'd spoken to on the internet, there were probably more than one in the whole city - before her luck kicked in and she could hear above the lunchtime lull a tinny, '$50K raise if you can get in her pants'.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

Listening to the text message, Matt realized he should have put his headset on first. That wasn't really something he wanted over heard and....judging by the annoyed tone, the woman in question overheard it. Matt paused trying to locate it. The lobby of the Worthington building was of course open and full of glass, which made hearing everything wonderful. Too wonderful sometimes if he wasn't already focusing and paying attention, which he was not, beyond his normal levels of perception.

Ah. There she was. Heading towards her, he slipped the small earpiece in one ear so that if Warren texted him again, he could hear it without sharing it with others. "Felicia?" he asked, his cane lightly nudging her shoe to make sure he was the correct distance from her.

Ignoring her initial response of stepping back and glaring - she got it, it's not like he was even hurting them, but she was still breaking in this pair of 868s - Felicia forced a smile into her voice and busied herself putting her phone into its appropriate purse pocket. "Hi, Matt. Should I ask what you did to deserve this? It seems a bit below your pay grade."

"I don't think Warren knows my pay grade. Or cares," Matt pointed out, "It's lower than his, therefore..." he trailed off, offering her a smile. "Would you care to accompany me to lunch? On Warren's tab of course," because he doubted she would tolerate anything less than the best and his lunches tended to consist of a soup and salad at the nearby cafe most days.

"You don't..." Felicia started, before changing her mind. "You know what? Sure. I suppose I should at least give you a chance at that raise." She smiled, moving to brush her fingertips against his elbow before stilling. "Did you have a place in mind? You probably know the area better than I do, though if you don't mind a walk, I know a great sushi place on 43rd."

"Sushi's fine," Matt agreed easily, feeling her hand move in the air towards his arm and then stop. He appreciated that. "Mind if I take your arm?" He preferred shoulder for shorter people, but Felicia was real enough, especially in her heels.

"So, what size pants do you wear?" Matt asked as they left the building.

Felicia let out an amused noise as they exited, pulling down the set of sunglasses that had been nestled in her hair to perch instead on her nose. That done, she moved her bag to the elbow Matt now held, just behind when he'd taken it; it was uncomfortable on the right side, and she didn't want to counterbalance in these shoes. "Rude. Let's just say they're not going to fit you, unless you want to try the leggings. And then buy me a new pair," she replied. "Also, I'm going to note here that when I fuck up, because I will, for blindness etiquette, it is unintentional and let me know. Currently I'm going for treat like a human being but there's not a lot of nuance in that."

"I suspected they wouldn't fit me," Matt replied, mock dolefully. He wasn't an especially big guy, but he was tall. He wasn't especially interested in actually wearing her pants either. But that would be an excellent way to annoy Warren and win his bet. "It's not too complicated. Let me know if there's stairs or steps and try not to run me into a pole. Other people are fine, they should be paying attention," plus he was also using his cane just in case. And his powers.

"I assume, since you're on the same journal site I am, that we have things in common. And this is mostly for show," he kept his voice low so only she'd hear, but it never hurt to be careful.

"Ah. Aren't you clever?" Felicia commented, momentarily quiet as she stared down a fellow New Yorker, mid-build man with dark hair and a reasonable suit, into moving aside. She glanced over her shoulder, smiling to herself when a patron of the hot dog vendor they'd just passed chose exactly that moment to have a mustard accident in his direction. "I'll still try to navigate us pole free. Common courtesy for someone who has to put up with Warren every day."

"Much appreciated," he remarked. He could always accidentally trip people with his cane, too. That was always popular, especially in college and law school when people had been in his way. "So then how do you know Warren?"

"Family friend," Felicia replied with a quick glance at the street signs. "Our mothers crossed paths, I believe mine was co-ordinating one of the Worthington charity galas, in... two-thousand and... two? Something. Anyway, they hit it off. At the same time, she was sending me to events, making sure I got my foot in the society door as it were, so I knew Warren, mostly by face and reputation. Then Sunday dinner type things and holidays, especially after-" She caught herself, but couldn't find a different way of finishing it without being obvious, so did so, tone annoyed. "After my father."

A light had turned red and she halted them at the corner. "Anyway. Now our mothers are united in the common goal of marrying us off and we're doomed to never being able to get rid of each other."

"Ah, one of the society people," Matt replied knowingly, "My uncle is a designer and runs in those circles. Well, both of my uncles do." He intentionally didn't ask about her father, it was clearly a touchy subject and understood those things, mentioning his own father tended to make people uncomfortable. "You might know them? Steve and Andre Kimura? My brother and I were the Kimura boys growing up," despite neither of them actually possessing that last name.

Felicia hummed thoughtfully, given an extra second as the light turned green and they began to cross. "That sounds really familiar but honestly, but I've been sort of out of the New York scene the last year and apparently it's turned my mental black book to mush. I keep having to sneak off to text my mother asking who so and so is under the pretence of desperately needing to use the washroom. Does the designer uncle have a separate label or is it under his own name?"

"It's under A. Murdock," Matt replied, "his name before he got married. Technically it's hyphened now, but no one really uses the Murdock part except for the label. High end women's clothing mostly," it wasn't really an industry he knew too much about, other than his uncle keeping both boys as well dressed as possible given than they both gravitated towards casual clothes as much as possible. With Matt being a lawyer and wearing suits, he dressed up much more often.

"What? Are you shitting me?" Felicia asked bluntly, nearly bumping them into the person in front of them who had paused and they did, well, not. "I couldn't this year, but I've been going to his Fashion Week shows since I was a teen. The ready-to-wear fall-winter show in February? That collection of coats was perfection. It was so nice to see someone who didn't fall into the feather fur trap everyone else did this year. And the illusion collared dress, with-"

Felicia abruptly stopped, laughing at herself. "I'm sorry, you don't care about this. Let's just say I'm a fan."

"Clearly," Matt smiled, enjoying her enthusiasm. "Blind and women's clothing makes me doubly unsuited to appreciate it, but you're smitten. I was raised by my uncles after my dad died, which is why my socks always match," he did a great deal more than match, but she probably realized that. "I can let him know he has a fan."

"I'm pretty sure Andre Murdock doesn't care that yet another society girl likes his stuff, but," Felicia started, side-tracked again. "I can't believe I didn't put that together when you mentioned who you were on the journals. It's not like there are a ton of Murdock designers with blind nephews they adopted in New York. Please don't tell my co-workers about this, Sydney will never let me live it down."

"Remember that one time you couldn't figure out how last names worked?" she continued, adopting the slight drawl Kevin Sydney used when he was being especially mocking. "Now let me tell you all about how women are only good for honey traps."

Note to self: tell Clint about Felicia so he's prepared. "Well...Murdock isn't that uncommon either," he said in her defence. "And if you're not thinking about the fashion design world, it's easy to overlook." His dad's boxing matches were more fun than runway shows anyways. "You planning on honey trapping someone then? It won't work on Andre."

"No particular plans in mind, no. Sydney just enjoys riling up the ladies in the office. Which is why he now doesn't drink any of the coffee we've made for him," Felicia replied sweetly. She stopped in front of a small window front with a door, the only real indication of its being a place to eat versus a hotel or lobby the blue letter A against the glass. "We're here. Let me get the door for you."

His uncles were madly in love. It was icky when he'd been a teen, it was gone now that he understood things better. Maturing sometimes did help. Letting her get the door, Matt stepped inside and informed the hostess that they were a party of two. "Sounds like there's a story there," he remarked as they were shown to a table.

Gently leading Matt to the table the hostess gestured them to, Felicia waited until he had found the back of his chair before sliding into the booth spot. There was a silent stare off as the hostess looked wide eyed, trying to figure out what to do with the second menu, before Felicia sharply indicated with her chin to put it in front of her companion, one eyebrow ticking up dangerously "It's not as good of a story as could be. Stupid man is too good at his job and didn't fall for anything, but at least he doesn't ask us to get him coffee any more," she said calmly, smoothing down her skirt absently.

Some restaurants had braille menu's. Apparently this wasn't one of them. Whatever, Matt had made do plenty of times, this wouldn't be a problem. "You should figure out a way to make it better," Matt suggested, "Maybe add dinosaurs," he added with a grin. He folded his cane absently, wrapping the strap around it before setting it down by his foot out of the way. Foggy had decorated their closet office when they were interns together at Landman and Zack with little plastic dinosaurs.

Felicia tilted her head, giving him a bemused look. "I... perhaps?" she said, peering down at todays menu, the little red circles indicating what was freshest. Their server came by with glasses of water and a pot of tea, pouring for each of them, then bustled away again. "How do you feel about me ordering for the both of us?" Felicia asked, pulling a secondary menu out from underneath the first one.

"So long as miso soup is involved, I defer to you," Matt agreed, "Oh. And no eel. It's a texture thing, never cared for it," otherwise, sushi was one of his favourite things. He liked blander foods and it was difficult to get too much more so than sushi, especially if you didn't add wasabi or soy sauce. He did, when he felt like it, but there was no obligation, when it was good it was delicious on its own. "What's your favourite?"

"Yes miso, no eel," Felicia repeated, pulling out a small pencil and ticking things off the menu. "I'm going to get us about a dozen pieces of sushi each and a roll to share. I prefer fish sushi, myself, and feel oysters on rice is a tragedy." She paused, reading. "Oh, apparently the king salmon is good today, so definitely some of that... How do you feel about a crab roll? They don't pulse it with mayo here, it's usually just chunks with some cucumber or avocado."

"Sounds perfect, that's how I prefer my crab," mixing it with mayo for sushi was just wrong in his opinion and a sign of a lesser quality sushi place. It might still be good, but....there were better. Much better. "If you want eel, go for it, it just wouldn't be something to share."

Making a thoughtful noise, Felicia added a couple more numbers to the menu before flagging down their server and handing it her with a pleasant smile. "So, we got distracted. How do you know Warren?" she asked, cautiously taking a sip of her tea.

"I'm a lawyer at Worthington Industries," Matt replied, which did not quite answer the question. There were a lot of lawyers at WI and he was a very junior lawyer there, not one of the senior. He couldn't exactly mention his or Warren's nocturnal activities either. "Also, the school," that would work with two links like that.

"Uh huh." Felicia looked around the restaurant, mostly full with the last few people still on lunch, listening to the blanket of noise they created, and then back at Matt, eyebrow raised. Which he couldn't see. Great. "The school."

No one was paying them any more attention than any other duo at lunch in Manhattan. Matt could tell just because no one reacted when they mentioned the school. If someone knew and understood, then their heart beat and respiration would give it away. "Interesting place," he agreed.

"That... is a very good choice of words for it, yes," Felicia replied, making a pause by taking another sip of tea. "Well, I don't have to educate or be educated there, so I have no real complaints other than I miss living in the city."

Matt could be very specific when he wanted to. In the court room he was magic. The rest of the time...he tried. Reaching carefully for his tea, Matt found it was the perfect temperature. Delicious. "Then why be there?" He asked.

"Apparently it is a requirement of my new job. They let me renovate. It could be worse," she said, accented by a gentle lift of one shoulder. "Acquisitions and accounting, before you ask."

"I was going to," Matt admitted, pausing as the waiter came with his soup. He'd used to get teased about how messy he was with soup, but he'd gotten better over the years. "Sounds interesting. I heard about your renovations. Not too shabby. I admit, I let my uncle decorate my apartment. He kept it my style." One of the benefits of a blind son.

Felicia gave a little smile, holding out her cup which was refilled. "Let me guess. You're a minimalist?"

"You can call it that," Matt agreed, "I prefer form with function. Feel and texture over pattern. Pictures and art on the wall don't exactly mean much," he shrugged slightly, "And I'm not a fan of random knickknacks that I might knock over or break and whatnot."

"I thought it was a little more sensitive than 'you're blind, you probably don't care what your living room suite looks like'," Felicia replied, voice pitching for humour. "It makes sense. People miss that aesthetic is not strictly visual attractiveness, despite it being the first thing most people will anchor to it. Something may be pleasing to the eye, but if it doesn't perform it's function, it loses some of that beauty."

"I'm sensitive to smells, textures, things like that," Matt admitted, "everything in my apartment I like," which had taken a bit of work to accomplish and make it pleasing to look at. "But no, I don't really care what it looks like. My uncle threatened to paint the walls baby pink when I was driving him nuts. He might've done it and no one told me."

Their server came by, carrying two boards of sushi - various fish, mostly - and placed them down in front of Felicia and Matt, before giving a small nod and returning to the kitchen. Felicia picked up her chopsticks, giving them a couple clacks as she simultaneously adjusted her technique and gave Matt a kind of mock toast. "Well. Here's to you not having annoyed your uncle enough that your apartment is now pink and no one will tell you."

Matt was familiar with chopsticks, but he was still giving the image of being fully blind and it took him a moment to find the sushi. "I should warn you, I'm handsy," he broke apart his chopsticks and stabbed at a roll before putting it on his plate, adjusting so he could pick it up properly and dunk it in soy sauce.