streetlevel

Oh. Yeah. I guess you have seen the cross now. [He often wears it as a necklace under his shirts. She has seen him without a shirt on when he wore the robe after his clothing was ruined by the sewers.] I don't go to mass all the time. Just once a week.

Maybe. Or he has a crush on you. Unless you have a sibling dynamic with him, in which case, please ignore that option.

It's a superior bagel. A bagel which has been enlightened. The next step in bagel evolution.

[OOC: ETA Stick, because I refuse to forget him. But also to say please edit as much as needed! It doesn't bother me, and I love our threads, too. :) I don't mind typos, but I also get wanting to make things perfect. It's all groovy.]

Matt didn't protest as Kate lifted his helmet. His hair curled against his brow, sticky and damp with sweat and grime. His brown eyes, the same color as the coffee he insisted be prepared right, were dark and unfocused but indeed full of emotion. They only closed as Kate explored his face. Felt over the stubble and the age lines. The planes and angles. Perhaps committed it to memory in her way, though her manner of seeing would always be different - something they might learn from one another rather than divide.

He reached up eventually to lightly place his hands over her forearms, running down them until he took her hands in his. His chest squeezed at what she said. He wanted it to be true. Desperately. He wanted to think that Foggy wouldn't have given up on him, and that they people who still believed in him did so without cause for doubt.

He wanted to do right by them.

"It's funny, isn't it?" There was a faint, tired smile on Matt's face. A smile of sorrow and of remembrance. Of threading the past into the present to carry into the future. It hurt to mention Foggy. Early on, Matt hadn't even said his name. Now he offered bits of memories so that they might not be forgotten, to further tie himself to Kate. "Everyone is just one person in the world. Yet to someone, that one person is the world. If we're lucky." Foggy had been Matt's world. He'd also been the world to so many others. Family, friends. Individuals who he'd saved through his legal prowess. The world was worse off for that loss, but it had been better for the time it had while Foggy had lived.

He hoped that Kate had people like that in her life, too.

He hoped she knew that she was that person to even more than she might think.

"I guess the only thing left to do is get up off the mat and try, right?" He didn't quite forgive himself yet. Didn't quite fully believe that he could do this, wage war against Fisk with him at the helm. He was certain though that he had to try. There was no way Foggy would have taken this lying down, either. Nor Jack, nor Elektra. Not Lantom or Stick. Not Hector. Not so many people who were living too, people who were rising up and needed a direction in which to go. Somewhere to look.

Well, while the city was dark, Matt was still able to see. He hoped that was still the case even when the dawn arise.

He squeezed her hands.

"Let's get some rest. In the morning, we're going to war."

I'm not sick of you. I've just been told by other people that I ramble when I'm tired. I'm not even trying to argue, just trying to make sure my point is clear. I've tried to stop myself and recognize when I'm doing it since then. ... I've never thought about the rest of what you said, but there might be some truth to it. A more sensitive touch that you can't ignore is more like what I experience. Just everywhere all the time.

... I'm an asshole, Kate. I don't know if I could give it up for anyone. [He clearly couldn't for Foggy. Would Foggy want him to now though, in a state where Fisk is in charge? What about if he had a kid? Jack Murdock died for his morals. Matt respects that. It also left him alone at 9 in the world.]

Ha. Kirsten has a roasted corn recipe that involves hot chips as part of the coating. Well, her aunt does. I remind her that it's not hers, it's her aunt's. But she'd do the challenge with you. She drinks chilis for breakfast. My stomach can't.