negativeone | if you call, i'll come, come, come. [for calltoaction]

[ He feels Vanessa Fisk's scrutiny on him from her peripheral as he skulks around the art gallery. He's dressed well, glasses and his suit from work earlier. He'd wanted to stop by and surprise his mother, bouquet of fresh pink roses picked straight from a rural Chinese farm in hand. He hadn't expected Matt Murdock, the subject of his latest profile. Maybe it's something like fate that brings him here, a pang of something that isn't quite nausea or anxiety hitting him in his belly at the sight of him. Vanessa knows he's done for the moment he asks about the blind lawyer in the art gallery, of all places.

He approaches Matt, feeling both timid and obscenely confident, somehow. He watches him observe the tactile art with his hands in fascination before clearing his throat, smiling wide, glasses pushed up his nose.] I didn't know you were a fan of modern art, Mr. Murdock. I'd say my mother has exceptionally good taste, but I may be a little biased.

Edited 2017-12-24 04:16 (UTC)

[ Vanessa is extremely perceptive, it's true. She has known Clark's tells since he was a very young boy, and knows that he has failed to grow out of many of them into his adult years. It's pleasing, in it's own way, that he is such an easy read to her. It is also good to know that her son does not find it necessary for secrets or subterfuge.

His father has plenty of that on his own, not that she finds that such an unappealing thing either.

Still, she is protective, though he insists he doesn't need it. He may not be able to be physically harmed, but his heart is another matter. No matter how charming the young District Attorney might be. ]

Ah, Clark wasn't it? I'm hoping to put that bias to good use then. I'm told my apartment is less than---warm. [ His hands leave the tactile display as he turns to Clark. Few places have more than a couple of them, but these he enjoys a lot. He cants his head in the reporter's direction, and smiles. ]

[Clark adores his mother and father, and as much as they’ve taught him to guard his heart, loving is so innate to him. He likes to think of it as part of being Kryptonian, being so emotional, so caring.

It has him in hot water now, though, and he knows damn well he’s got it bad for the Districy Attorney. He grins, wide, feels his face burn with color, and steps in a little closer.] Clark Kent, yes. Daily Planet, though I’m off the clock for now. You know, my mother’s always told me you don’t need sight to appreciate art.

[He splays one big hand against the tactile piece himself, feels every molecule of it.] What does this one make you feel, Mr. Murdock? I know she has a few others, if you’d like me to show you around. You will have to tell me about these guests of yours, though.

Edited 2017-12-24 09:02 (UTC)

[ Helping Clark to embrace his heritage as both of Earth and of Krypton had been difficult in many ways. Partly because she had not been certain, for a little while, that her son would remain that. A large part of her still does not wish to share him with the world, and yet it keeps drawing his attention away from her.

She hopes that this Matthew Murdock appreciates what it is that he's found, however short a time they have grown close in. ]

Kent, right. [ A soft chuckles. ] There's an energy to it. Like it's coiled and waiting for something. Does it have any color to it? [ A beat and a nod at his question. ] I would like that, thank you.

Just a couple of coworkers. Well, my partner and our secretary. I don't have much of a social life to speak of.

[ Gently, Clark takes Matt's arm in his, polite as ever. The description of the art seems to take him aback even more, and he touches along it still with his free hand. ] It's red, a sea of reds. Passionate. Just in feeling it, I agree with your assessment.

[ Slowly, he leads him away, to the next piece of art in the collection. Upon reaching their destination, Clark reaches for Matt's hand and hopes it's not too much as he sets it on the tactile piece. It's smooth, almost silky to the touch, and he releases Matt's hand, focuses in on his heartbeat. It's hard not to, with how close they are, his heartbeat and his aftershave. ] I understand that. Being so busy with work myself, it's hard to enjoy a social life. I don't have many people over myself.

What do you think of this?

[ Matt allows him to lead them along, enjoying the proximity the contact allows, and the warmth shared from it. ] Red. I remember what that looks like.

[ He feels his hand taken to be moved to the canvas. He lets his fingers brush along Clark's, licking his lips a little at the surprise of his closeness. He feels along the new piece, his own heartbeat picking up a little. ]

Can you describe the colors to me? [ His other had still rests on his cane, and he's never wanted more than to just chuck it away and anchor on to Clark. ]

[ He hears Matt's heartbeat pick up, feels the touch of Matt's fingers along his own, and he thinks he's a little dizzy about it. It takes him a moment to respond and he blushes sheepishly about it.

His own thumb brushes along Matt's as he speaks. ]

This one's always felt a little more disoriented to me. Reds, blues, some purple. It's exquisite, even without having to see it. [ A pause, and he withdraws his hand, though still just as close. ] This has nothing to do with art, Mr. Murdock, but if you're interested, we could get something for dinner?

Off the record, of course.

[ Color floods Matt's face as well, and he feels it heating up his cheeks. He ducks his head a little at the description, still feeling along the canvas. ]

It sounds mesmerizing. [ His face turns up at the question, a faint smile coming to his face. ]

As long as it is off the record, I'd be happy to join you for dinner. Tonight? I've admittedly got nothing to do but paperwork back at the office.

[ He reaches for Clark's arm, after letting his hand leave the painting, and purposely brushes along his hand by way to rest it on his sleeve. ]

Did you have a place in mind?

[ A smile turns at Clark's lips, too, especially at the feel of Matt's hand along his sleeve. ]

Yeah. I don't have much waiting for me besides the stores I'm working on back at the Planet. As for where we're going, it depends on what you're in the mood for, Matthew--if I can call you that.

I'd be interested to hear in what stories you're writing, if you're amenable. [ He chuckles and nods. ] Yes, you can call me that.

I hear there's this new Thai place downtown. Small and out of the way.

I could be amenable, for you. [ That's definitely flirting, and Clark can't stop smiling about it, the sound of it in his voice. ] Thai definitely sounds good. Do you want to head back to your place first? I can get us a ride there, either way--one of the perks of being a Fisk.

You'll make me blush, Mr. Kent. [ Not that he isn't already. ] I wouldn't mind getting out of my work clothes. This place is a little more of a dressing down occasion, admittedly.

But I'll take the ride, as long as you'll humor me with the walk from my place to there.

Good thing I wore my flannel today, then.

[ The ride is fairly quick from the gallery, their driver wordless. Clark thanks her with a smile, lets her know that he'll call if he needs it, later on. A walk sounds a little more intimate than a stiff town car, anyway.

He looks around, curious, as they head up to the entrance. ] Were you raised in Hell's Kitchen, Matthew?

Flannel. Like a country boy. [ Matt offers a teasing drawl, but chuckles softly after, returning to his usual voice. He pulls away as they reach the door, unlocking it and heading inside.

It's late enough that he gets the light for Clark's sake before continuing on his way. ]

For the most part, yeah. I lost my father when I was 9. A little over a year after I was adopted by a man from Gotham.

I did grow up in the country for awhile, with my parents. Before they returned to Hell's Kitchen. It's their home.

[ Clark hums, notes the decor of the home. ] I definitely think the second piece we looked at would look very nice. You have an exquisite home, you know. I wouldn't have guessed you're a Gothamite.

[The thought earns a smile, wistful as it is.] Your father was Battlin' Jack, right?

I find it hard to imagine with how well you and your family mesh here in the city. I don't think I would have survived the country. The city is in my blood.

[ Matt can't help but chuckle a little. ] Don't forget to take into account the ever-changing glow from across the street. I'm heard it's very distracting.

I lived in Gotham, yes, but I'm not sure it ever became as much of a home to me as here. Not that my adopted dad didn't try. [ His smile grows a little sad, but it's still there. ] That's him. I, uh, still remember his fights. Well, the sounds of 'em.

It's nice, the country. Quiet. I traveled a little, before I went to school for journalism. I'm grateful I had the opportunity to.

[ He heads over to the window, hears the neon of the sign before he even sees it. ] Gotham seems like one large, dark corner of Hell's Kitchen. I go there a lot, for the society and crime beat. Could never imagine it being a home.

Your adoptive and biological fathers both seem like good men.

I've never been. [ Such a seemingly small admittance. He can't imagine what it must be like without the sounds he's so used to. ]

It isn't so bad. There are people trying to make it better. [ Like his dad, when he isn't pretending to be a bumbling playboy with no sense. ]

Can't argue with that.

[ He heads into the bedroom so that he can change. What he picks out is jeans and a t-shirt with a zip up hoodie. He comes out after a couple of minutes for his shoes. ]

Edited 2017-12-29 05:09 (UTC)

There’s good people everywhere. [ He glances at Matt when he exits the bathroom, smile forming over his features. ] I am very excited to try this Thai place, though. You ever have it?

Not a lot of people have the heart to look for them.

[ He heads out, reaching for Clark's arm as he goes. ]

Would it be too forward if I asked if it were okay if I left my cane here? If it wasn't an imposition, anyways.

[ He chuckles and nods. ] I've had too many late nights, I'm afraid.

[He smiles wide at the touch, almost nods before he stops himself.] Go ahead. I definitely don’t mind this. Gives me an excuse to do this all night. [A chuckle escapes at his own forwardness, before he follows Matt out the door.]

Very understandable, though I usually opt for the pizza place beside my apartment. I’m glad my stories allow me to work from home for that reason.

I wonder what else we might get up to in a night. [ He ducks his head at that, leaning into him as they walk. ]

You might have to take me to this pizza place of yours another night then.

[ He gets them there and to a table that's a little further away from the front and the crowds. It's one he frequents. ]

So, what does Clark Kent like to do when he's not on a story?

We'll have to wait and see, Counselor. Now that I know you like pizza too, I'll have to stop by with it sometime. We both seem to work pretty late. [He pulls out Matt's chair before they both sit, and he seems pretty at ease already. The glasses are pushed further up his nose out of instinct as a chuckle escapes.]

Well. I like to drink beer, watch football, work out. I volunteer at The Dwelling Place and the Homeless LGBT Youth Shelter a lot. My mother especially likes it when I can come around to help around with her gallery and with the bouquets at home. I've always had an eye for it, decoration and stationary. What about you, Counselor? [He looks through the menu.] Anything you like to do when you don't put bad guys away?

The long game, hm? I can play along. [ Matt chuckles at the comment, and relaxes a bit. It's hard to quiet his senses, especially in a place like this, but it's easier to focus more on such good company.

Once they are seated, he can't deny he's more than a little interested in just hearing more about Clark. ] I sadly have something of a ridiculous schedule. More late nights than I like, but worth it. Other than that I---visit the old gym my dad trained at. The guy lets me sit there for a 20.

And I have a few side projects that I work on to better the city when I'm not visiting St. Agnes.

if you call, i'll come, come, come. [for calltoaction]

this is heaven, what i truly want. (it's innocence lost)

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