Matt relaxes too. He puts his glasses back on and idly toys with the color tag on his sweatshirt.
“Evil twin,” Foggy mutters to himself, laughing quietly. “Seriously, you almost had me going there for a minute.”
Matt chews his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I wasn’t joking,” he said. “And he’s honestly not evil, Foggy, he’s a good guy. He just has a pretty unique sense of humor.”
“Yeah, he’s not the only one. I’m rolling my eyes, by the way. It was funny, but you’ll ruin the joke if you try to drag it out any further.”
“I’m not…” Matt sighs and shakes his head. “His name is Mike. Michael. He’s older, by about five minutes, and I never mentioned him before because it just never came up.” Foggy doesn't ask about his family. Matt understands why; he knows what happened to his father, he knows about the orphanage, it makes sense that he would leave it at that, not try to drag up painful memories. He couldn’t have known that some happy ones might come up with them.
Foggy’s heart rate fluctuates, and Matt can’t tell whether he is angry because he thinks he is still being lied to, or whether his confidence of that fact is beginning to waver.
“Fine,” Foggy says. “Twin brother, lets go with that. I suppose it’s too much to hope you have a photo of the two of you together, so how about you give him a call, gt him to come over and say hi.”
“I…” Matt’s phone feels heavy in his pocket. He taps it with his fingers, then shakes his head. “I don’t have a number for him. I don’t even know if he has a phone. I didn’t even know he was back in town until ten minutes ago.”
Foggy snorts, unimpressed. “Seeing is believing, Matt. Well, probably not so much for you, but…” Foggy breaks off and takes a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is, if this guy exists, why are you never in the same room at the same time?”
“Okay,” Matt tells him. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
He takes off the mustard colored sweatshirt and removes the color tag with a shape tug that breaks the cotton that Mike had used to place it there. He places it on the end of the bed for re-labeling, or possibly throwing away later, then takes another one from his drawer. It should be red. “What color is this one?” he holds it up.
“Grey,” Foggy tells him.
Matt grimaces. He removes that tag too. “Do me a favor?” he asks. “If you notice me trying to leave the room in anything clothes you haven’t seen before, or anything stupid, just let me know? I get that you think I’m making this up, but please?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Matt hears his anger softening just a little bit. Now all he needs to do is track down his brother.
Re: Where Matt has a real identical twin named Mike who is sighted and is Daredevil
“Evil twin,” Foggy mutters to himself, laughing quietly. “Seriously, you almost had me going there for a minute.”
Matt chews his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I wasn’t joking,” he said. “And he’s honestly not evil, Foggy, he’s a good guy. He just has a pretty unique sense of humor.”
“Yeah, he’s not the only one. I’m rolling my eyes, by the way. It was funny, but you’ll ruin the joke if you try to drag it out any further.”
“I’m not…” Matt sighs and shakes his head. “His name is Mike. Michael. He’s older, by about five minutes, and I never mentioned him before because it just never came up.” Foggy doesn't ask about his family. Matt understands why; he knows what happened to his father, he knows about the orphanage, it makes sense that he would leave it at that, not try to drag up painful memories. He couldn’t have known that some happy ones might come up with them.
Foggy’s heart rate fluctuates, and Matt can’t tell whether he is angry because he thinks he is still being lied to, or whether his confidence of that fact is beginning to waver.
“Fine,” Foggy says. “Twin brother, lets go with that. I suppose it’s too much to hope you have a photo of the two of you together, so how about you give him a call, gt him to come over and say hi.”
“I…” Matt’s phone feels heavy in his pocket. He taps it with his fingers, then shakes his head. “I don’t have a number for him. I don’t even know if he has a phone. I didn’t even know he was back in town until ten minutes ago.”
Foggy snorts, unimpressed. “Seeing is believing, Matt. Well, probably not so much for you, but…” Foggy breaks off and takes a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is, if this guy exists, why are you never in the same room at the same time?”
“Okay,” Matt tells him. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
He takes off the mustard colored sweatshirt and removes the color tag with a shape tug that breaks the cotton that Mike had used to place it there. He places it on the end of the bed for re-labeling, or possibly throwing away later, then takes another one from his drawer. It should be red. “What color is this one?” he holds it up.
“Grey,” Foggy tells him.
Matt grimaces. He removes that tag too. “Do me a favor?” he asks. “If you notice me trying to leave the room in anything clothes you haven’t seen before, or anything stupid, just let me know? I get that you think I’m making this up, but please?”
“Yeah, okay.”
Matt hears his anger softening just a little bit. Now all he needs to do is track down his brother.