Blackout | Matt Murdock

chapter eleven | matt murdock and co.

"You were serious before? You think he's a wizard?"

"It's not the technical term, okay, that's just what sounded right at the time."

"Well, this would explain your sky-diving trip to Queens..."

Michaela groans and flops down on Matt's couch, legs sprawled out across the back of it. He's smiling at her, amused, and now that he's gotten the full story from her he's not as tense as he was when she first walked into his apartment. If laughing at her expense gets him in a better mood she's not going to question it; Matt broods enough already, she doesn't want to be one of the many reasons for it.

She hadn't planned on coming here today. Without school she's been taking as many shifts as she can at Cody's and looking for side job because she is in dire need of the extra cash. Consequently, she's had to take step back from going out as Blackout, and it would be weighing more on her conscience if Matt hadn't promised to keep the streets (relatively) safe until she's in a more stable position financially. Really, she'd feel guilty no matter what, but she knows he's been making use of the vigilante buddies club and having Jessica Jones and Luke Cage swing by when he's out of his depth. Or, at least, when she gets him to admit he's out of his depth.

But, anyway, today. No shifts, miraculously, and no villains out running amuck in the streets. This morning she'd been considering the merits of lifting her temporary (and self-imposed) hero ban just for a few hours when Matt called and asked if she wanted to drop by his apartment. Which. Yes, of fucking course, she's wanted to see how the guy lives ever since she learned he's Daredevil. A strange catalyst for the desire, probably, but Matt Murdock, charming blind lawyer, didn't provoke curiosity from her about his home life.

She figures the invitation is out of some misguided attempt at earning back her trust, or, well – misguided in the sense that he thinks he's really lost her trust in the first place. She's not going to dissuade him of that idea just yet, though; he's never been unkind to her, but the extra effort is nice, she's not going to lie to herself.

Matt's apartment isn't – she hadn't had expectations, not really. For one, it's Hell's Kitchen, and no one living here has the means to live luxuriously. At least, not where she and Matt live. So no fantastical daydreams about Matt's secret mansion or anything like that. But it's... nice. Large windows let in an abundance of cheery sunlight, highlighting the open plan of the apartment in a way that doesn't happy in her own place. His kitchen is only sectioned off by the island, and his bedroom's separated from the main living space by a sliding door. There's a staircase in the corner that she's yet to venture up, but otherwise she's seen most of his place and she kind of loves it.

One caveat, though. There is no fucking way he should be able to afford this place on the salary of a lawyer who takes more pro-bono cases than he does paying ones.

Apparently at night the signs across the street (neon and ostentatious even in the daylight) are unbearable, but hey, that's not much of a problem for Matt, so he gets a sweet apartment at a damn near criminal price.

The situation is amusing to her even though she gets this persistent feeling of guilt about it. Matt doesn't mind, at least, so there's that.

"He did this sparkler thing with his hands," Michaela says, frustrated that she doesn't have a better description of that move yet. She waves her own hands to demonstrate, a little more trusting that Matt will get the gist of the movements. His smile widens a fraction. "Made a circle in the air and I ran right through it, which is how he dropped my ass out over Queens. And the first time I saw him, he had these shields... I thought they were tech at first, holographic armor or something. But with the whole portal deal, I dunno. Magic, man, that's where I'm at right now. Spidey agrees with me, though we're still debating about whether he's more DnD wizard or Harry Potter-esque."