𝗗𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟 𝗧𝗢𝗪𝗡 - 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟯: 𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗥

AEI: ik everything is going really slowly atm but i promise it will get more exciting from here on out!!!

Matt's apartment is tall and dark and echoing; decorated minimally but not unwelcomingly, and the exposed brick grates along the tips of Cat's fingers.

In the centre of the sitting room is a huge window, exposing one of the ugliest advertisement boards that she has ever seen. It glows horribly over the couch, preaching about some cheap sort of perfume, but something about it adds atmosphere.

She takes a seat on the edge of the sofa and watches the lights blink down at her.

Behind her, Matt is opening the fridge doors, kicking off his shoes, leaving his suit jacket draped across the countertop. He moves effortlessly, Cat notices, better than most seeing people. On the walk back to his apartment, she watched as he carefully avoided every bump in the pavement, every fire hydrant; treating his white stick more like an accessory than an aid.

When Cat tentatively offered to help him, he'd laughed her off.

"Don't worry about me." He'd grinned. "I have my ways."

Cat had just stared at his shoes. There was a spot of something dark and clotted on one of them, and it had dried into a sticky matte stain on the otherwise spotless leather. If she hadn't known any better, she would've thought it was blood.

But Matt isn't like that. It radiates off of him in waves; a sickly goodness that begs for somebody's approval.

Cat blinks up at the horrible pink advertisement board.

Goodness. What is that supposed to look like?

She closes her eyes and listens to the fridge door close; the sound of soft footsteps coming across the floor. If she focuses, she can hear the exact way that Matt Murdock breathes; deep and calm but purposely so. A careful mask.

The goodness is real, but his demeanour is not. He is nervous or hurt or tired - something that he's plastered over with charm - but Cat can see through it like polished glass. It's appealing. She's never liked perfect people, after all.

Everybody always thought her father was perfect, and look where that got her.

Swallowing, she watches as Matt takes a seat on the other sofa; stretching slightly and folding his hands carefully into his lap. She wonders what his eyes look like behind his glasses. In her mind, she imagines that they're black and alien, like a comic book character, and it's as alarming as it is amusing.

But there are other priorities.

Cat sucks a deep, shuddery breath in, like a broken air vent.

"I need to tell you something about my dad." She says, as confidently as she can manage. Matt nods.

"I'm listening."

"And after you hear it, you might not want my case anymore. Because it's going to make things difficult."

Matt says nothing, but nothing about his stance changes. He looks as calm as he always does. Somehow, this only makes Cat feel worse.

"And you might not believe me."

"I'll believe you."

"No, but you don't understand. He–"

"Cat," Matt says, so gently that her heart feels like it's tearing. "It's OK."

But it's not. It's not, it's not, it's not, and Cat will not allow herself to melt just because she hasn't heard anyone say that in a while. Just because it's said, doesn't mean it's true.