what they wouldn't do | DAREDEVIL

thirty nine

Sarah stood in the lobby of Orion with a small compact mirror in her hand, examining the dark undereye circles that the lack of sleep over the last few days had left her. She made note that in her sleep-deprived haste to apply makeup over the massive bruise on her face, she appeared to have mistakenly grabbed some kind of shimmery bronzer, making the bruise more sparkly than discreet, but she supposed it was about as good as she could ask for.

Upstairs, she was greeted by the sight of her desk stacked high with mail, folders, and various other paperwork that needed to be sorted through. Clearly no one had been taking over her work while she was gone. The door to Jason's office was shut, and Sarah could hear muffled voices speaking on the other side.

Across the room, she spotted Tracksuit and the tall Russian man come around the corner from the hallway. Tracksuit seemed to be explaining something, but when he caught sight of her he paused and said something to the tall one, and they both looked over at her.

Sarah looked around, unsure what was going on. She grew more alarmed when the two of them started walking towards her desk. Normally no one paid attention to her other than to gain access to Jason's office, and when they did pay her attention it wasn't usually good.

She discreetly slipped her letter opener out of her drawer and rested it on her leg underneath her desk.

"You!" Tracksuit exclaimed. He smacked a hand down on her desk, then pointed at her. Sarah gripped the letter opener tighter. "Congratulations."

Sarah blinked.

"...what?" she asked dumbly.

"You got your stripes. Your first arrest. And you didn't flip for the cops, which—I gotta say—we all expected you to," he informed her. Behind him, his taller partner nodded in agreement. "So welcome to the club."

"...thank you?" Sarah said, partially wondering if she was on some kind of hidden camera show right now.

"Yeah. Is he still in there?" Tracksuit said, jerking his head towards Jason's office door.

"Yes."

"He asked us to meet him in his office forty-five minutes ago, but then the queen showed up," he said with an annoyed eye roll. "And now he's been in there with her the whole time discussing who the hell knows what."

"The Queen is in there?" Sarah asked. Tracksuit squinted at her, and she shook her head. God, I am so tired. "Oh. You mean Vanessa."

Tracksuit turned to his larger companion. "He made us make an appointment to see him, like this is the goddamn dentist, and Fisk's wife gets to just waltz in whenever she wants."

They both gave Sarah an expectant look, as if she were going to agree with them and go knock on the door herself to demand that Vanessa get out.

"Um...so, do you want to wait until he's done talking to her, or...?" she trailed off.

Tracksuit heaved a dramatic sigh. "We'll come back again in a while."

The two of them left, still looking disgruntled by Vanessa bumping them off Jason's schedule. About fifteen minutes later, the door to Jason's office opened and the muted voices became clear.

"...let me know if you change your mind," Jason said as he and Vanessa stepped out of the room. His voice was entirely too pleasant and tightly controlled; whatever he was hoping she would change her mind about, it was pissing him off that he wasn't getting his way.

"Of course," Vanessa said, sounding much calmer than him. She caught sight of Sarah and smiled. "Sarah, welcome back."

Sarah turned towards them and saw Vanessa's eyes catch on the bruised side of her face. She gave her a sympathetic frown, but didn't ask about it. Jason either didn't notice the bruise or didn't care, and for once his apathy worked in Sarah's favor, sparing her from having to come up with an excuse.