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collaborative_daredevil2016-04-17 01:22 pm
vvioletplottin) wrote in collaborative_daredevil2016-04-17 01:22 pm
General roleplays
Mod post
This post is for people who want to play more general roleplays, I'm leaving this unstructured, to play please comment with who you play (even if you think it should be obvious from your icon/username) and what sort of interaction you're looking for.
If someone wants more structure/to take over handling general roleplays please ask and I'll be happy to add at least one mod for this.
This post is for people who want to play more general roleplays, I'm leaving this unstructured, to play please comment with who you play (even if you think it should be obvious from your icon/username) and what sort of interaction you're looking for.
If someone wants more structure/to take over handling general roleplays please ask and I'll be happy to add at least one mod for this.
Re: Where Matt has a real identical twin named Mike who is sighted and is Daredevil
Mike stops just outside the alleyway and reaches out for his brother’s shoulder. “Matt--,” Matt grabs his hand before it can make contact and uses the momentum to throw Mike over his shoulder and into the air several feet. He rolls as he lands on a piece of folded cardboard and barely stops himself from crashing into a nearby dumpster. “What the hell.”
Matt takes a step forward and Mike stands up. “I understand that you’re angry. But, we don’t have to fight, Matty. Not like this.” Matt is literally shaking with anger. He can see the trails left behind down both cheeks from falling tears. The wet trails are joined by a third from his nose at his chin and from there drip to the pavement bellow.
“I’m so mad at you right now, Mike.”
“Yeah, I got the memo.”
“No! No, you don’t. That’s the problem.” Matt takes off his glasses and wipes his face with his sleeve before putting them on again. He then reaches for his cane and folds it up. Mike watches as he throws it up onto a nearby fire escape platform, before climbing it himself towards the roof, leaving it behind.
Mike dusts himself off, then thinks about going for Matt’s cane to make sure it doesn’t get left behind. But, then he realizes Matt will need it to return to the dorms. And, as much as he hates to admit it, Matt is right. He really can take care of himself. But, that doesn’t mean he won’t do whatever he can to keep Stick away from him. Matt was lucky enough by some fluke to get out. He wants his brother to be able to live his dreams and go to law school. And, Stick, he’s a slick, manipulative bastard that always plays dirty and won’t stop until he gets what he wants. Matt needs to continue to stay off his radar.
Mike decides that for now he’s going to continue to resist the urge to chase after him. He knows Matt needs his space to cool down and think things through. Instead, he decides to head over to St. Agnes to volunteer for a few hours to keep his mind off how he majorly just screwed things up with his brother.
***
Matt parkours over the nearby rooftops until he reaches the end of the block. He realizes he hasn’t done this in almost a year, maybe longer. The freedom of it… This... This is living. He drives his right leg downwards, arms tucked at his sides, and uses the momentum to kick his left leg back and whip his body up into an aerial flip, landing on his left leg, facing the opposite direction from where he started from, arms up, over his head. He does it again from where he's standing, without running, just because he can. Can a scared little blind kid do this?!
Matt then runs and goes into a side flip, then another aerial, this time, doing two in a row before stopping by the edge of the rooftop and sitting. He lets his legs dangle over the side as he feels the breeze.
What he’s doing right now… Matt knows it’s dangerous to be running around during the day. Fortunately, he can conveniently claim to be his sighted twin brother… If anyone will believe for a minute that Mike exists.
He is going to need to convince Foggy once and for all that his brother is real or Mike is going to continue to fall into familiar patterns. He can’t enable this behavior. Otherwise, Mike will never allow himself to go after what he wants in life.
“When will he realize that I don’t need his protection?! I didn’t ask for this!” Matt clenches his fists at his sides as the wind whips through his hair.
Re: Where Matt has a real identical twin named Mike who is sighted and is Daredevil
He knows his corner of the city well from ground level, but this perspective feels like discovering it anew; like suddenly experiencing high definition. He has done this before, of course, but it has been a long time; too long. Like a forgotten piece of music from his childhood suddenly rediscovered, it takes him back in his mind; to nights when he had crept out unnoticed into the city when the nuns thought he was sound asleep; to days spent exploring with Mike in the sun, pushing the limits of what either of them should be able to do.
He takes a deep breath. The air tastes different so high up, the pollution diluted by the expanse of openness before him. The sun beats down hard on the back of his head, bringing with it the distinctive but subtle scent of heated concrete from the buildings around him. He closes his eyes, and corrects his posture before breathing out slowly, releasing the anger and the frustration in the way that he had been taught. It has been a long time too, since he had taken the time to meditate, and he realizes now that that had been a mistake.
***
When he feels as though he has centered himself enough to reduce his anger to a more manageable level. He takes a final, cleansing breath before turning his body so that his feet no longer dangle hundreds of feet above the street below.
He stands on the ledge, the tips of his toes right up to the edge, and feels completely safe. He can’t help but wonder whether his lack of fear is down to some inmate courage or simply to the fact that he cannot see the drop below him He can sense it though; the expanse of emptiness below him, but he understands exactly what his body is capable of and what it's limitations are. He could no more fall from here than he could from the curb while crossing the street. No matter what anyone else might think.
He dismisses that thought as he takes a step backward, bending his knees as he drops the three feet to the roof of the building. Mike had never said that about him. He had never implied that Matt was less than capable of looking after himself. All he had done was try to look after him, like a big brother was supposed to do; make a sacrifice, put himself second.
Somehow, that feels worse. If it had been about his ability to look after himself, Matt could prove him wrong. As it is, there is nothing he could do. Mike is as stubborn as he is, it is a trait they had inherited from their father, and once he makes his mind up about something, no amount of reasoning will change his mind.
Which, now he thinks of it, is probably part of the reason that he is still refusing to admit his existence to Foggy.
Matt runs to the opposite end of the building and leaps back up onto the ledge, using it as a springboard to jump to the fire escape of the neighboring building. He grips the rail with both hands and swings himself around to plant his feet firmly but almost soundlessly on the on the metal platform. He climbs down and begins to make his way back to the dorm with a quick stop to pick up his cane on the way.
When he walks back into the dorm room an hour or so later, he finds Foggy still in bed. The banana that he had left for him has been opened, half eaten and left on the table by his bed, the water and the aspirin were gone.
He crosses the room swiftly and opens the window. The smell of the banana masks the one of stale booze that had permeated the air that morning, but it isn't much better.
As the cool air begins to filter into the room, Foggy, stirs a little. He flings an arm dramatically over his face and groans.
"Morning." Matt smiles.
Foggy groans again, reaches for his glass of water and turns it upside down over his mouth to capture the last few drops. "How the hell are you up and about already? You had at least as much to drink as I did."
It helps if you're not the person that was actually doing to drinking, but it's easier not to go down that route again, especially not right now. Besides, Mike hadn't been exhibiting any signs of a hangover either. Matt opens the mini fridge and retrieves a bottle of water, he drops it onto Foggy's stomach and forces a grin. "I guess you're just a lightweight, he says.
Re: Where Matt has a real identical twin named Mike who is sighted and is Daredevil
“I guess I’m not a lightweight, like somebody...”
“Dude, I gotta say… That shirt you’re wearing is pretty hideous. It’s almost as bad as the one you almost wore to Josie’s last night. Only, this one's so bright, it's making me squint.”
Matt laughs. “I think your hangover is making you squint. Though, want to do me a favor and pick something more ‘Foggy Nelson-approved’ for your wing-man before we head out to get coffee?”
“How did your clothes get so messed up, anyway? You used to have a good system going.”
Matt shrugs. “It’s not like I can tell. All I know is that the clothes fit and they don’t itch.”
“Yeah, but--”
Matt cuts him off. “Foggy. Please. Just… It’s not worth it.”
Foggy walks over to the closet and pulls out four hideous button down shirts, wincing and shaking his head at each one before hanging them in the back of the closet. He then pulls out a nice, casual kaki and black checkered button down shirt and hands it to Matt. “Okay, buddy. I just put four of the most offending, God-awful shirts in the back of your closet. This one’s one of the better ones.”
Matt turns around and changes his shirt. He decides to leave it untucked and he rolls up the sleeves.
“Seriously, though… Matt…”
“It’s nothing. It’s just…” Foggy folds his arms across his chest. “Ok. Fine, someone played a prank on me.”
“Who?”
“Please, Foggy, just let it go.”
“They had to break into our dorm to do this…”
“Foggy… I can take care of it. Let me handle it. I don’t want to fight about this.”
“I’m too hung over to argue right now, anyway. Or make any decisions. Let’s go get that coffee.” Foggy opens his beside drawer, then walks over to his desk, eyes searching. "I can't find my sunglasses."
Matt goes to his beside table and reaches in, pulling out a pair with rounded red-tinted lenses. "You can borrow one of mine."
"These are really nice Matt. Let's switch. I think you'd look better in them, and I need more light blockage." Matt takes his off and hands them over for Foggy to take. Foggy drops the pair with the round lenses into his hand and nods appreciatively after Matt settles the lenses on his nose. "I'm nodding appreciatively - those lenses really work for you."
"I've been saving them. I hear they're dressy."
Matt walks over to the door and grabs his cane. Foggy finishes the last few bites of his banana and washes it down with another long sip of water. “What is your secret?”
Matt grins. “Asparagus.”
Foggy makes a face. “I’m making my disgusted face, just so you know.”
“What are you, six? If you’d given it a chance, enjoying a side of asparagus with dinner last night at the campus dining hall might have prevented your current hangover.”
Foggy offers Matt his elbow. “I hear that vile vegetable can color your piss green.”
Matt chuckles and leans in as they walk. “Not like I would ever know.”
“Better you than me, buddy.”
Re: Where Matt has a real identical twin named Mike who is sighted and is Daredevil
Matt rolls over to face him, wearing a pained expression. His skin is too pale, clammy, his hair is flat and stuck to his brow by the sheen of sweat that covers his face. His cheeks are flush with fever. He really does look terrible. Foggy feels a pang of guilt for his mocking tone.
“You want some water or something?” He asks. Without waiting for an answer, he grabs a bottle from the mini fridge they keep in the corner of the room and taps Matt on the back of the hand with it.
Matt shakes his head and begins to kick off his covers.
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”
“Class,” Matt says. His voice comes out as a hoarse, croaky whisper.
Foggy almost laughs. “Yeah, right. You’re barely fit to get to the bathroom on your own. What kind of a roommate would I be if I let you go walking around in that condition?
“The kind that doesn’t want me to fail my classes,” Matt tells him.
“You couldn’t fail if you tried.” Foggy reaches down and gently pushes Matt back down onto the mattress. To his surprise, he meets very little resistance. “I’ll take notes,” he promises.
Matt shakes his head. “I can’t read them.”
Shit. He hadn’t thought of that. Foggy chews thoughtfully on his bottom lip. “I’ll type them up and e-mail them to you,” he says. “No, better yet, gimme that dictaphone thing you use. I’ll record the whole class, type up my notes of anything else you might need to know, and if there are any worksheets or handouts, they’ll have done one in Braille for you, so I’ll be able to just collect it when I pick up my own.”
Matt opens his mouth to answer but instead, a nasty sounding cough erupts from somewhere deep inside his chest. Foggy winces in sympathy.
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Foggy tells him. “Frankly, if you turn up to class looking and sounding like that, nobody’s going to be impressed, they’re just going to wonder what the hell you were thinking. And be pissed at you when they all come down with it too.”
“Okay,” Matt says.
Foggy blinks. “Really? Wow, that was easier than I expected, you must be sicker than I thought.” He opens the bottle of water and offers it to Matt again. “I know you’re going to think I’m mother-henning you, but drink the water, okay? You don’t want to get dehydrated on top of everything else. Want me to pick you up anything on the way back? Tylenol, Gatorade, maybe one of those ice pack things people always put on their head on TV when they’re sick?”
Matt shakes his head slowly, but accepts the bottle of water and takes a sip. He winces as he swallows, but has another sip before he puts it down. Foggy nods, satisfied for now. He grabs the dictaphone from the desk next to Matt’s computer and shoves it it in his pocket.
“Back in a couple of hours,” he says. He grabs his jacket as he exits the room. Matt doesn’t answer, he is already asleep.
Re: Where Matt has a real identical twin named Mike who is sighted and is Daredevil
Matt opens his sightless eyes and gazes up in his brother’s general direction. His brow is speckled in sweat. “Mike, whatever ever it is you’re thinking… Don’t.” Matt coughs. It’s a very wet cough. He reaches towards the box of tissues by his beside, but they are just out of his reach. Mike finished grabbing Matt’s laptop and braille reader and puts it in his bag. Then, he takes a tissue from the box and hands it to Matt.
“You know Foggy is going to screw up the Dictaphone. All it takes is one wrong push on that slide in the wrong direction, and he’s taping over a section in the middle. I’m going to go be you for a couple hours. There’s still plenty of time to make it to this class and the next.”
Matt tries to sit up, but he’s too dizzy and sick. His stomach feels like it may toss its contents at any moment. Mike grabs the empty waste paper basket and brings it over to Matt. “Thank goodness this thing has a liner, eh, Matty?” Matt notices the way Mike drops his R’s… Sounds a lot like Dad… Wish he were here…
Mike looks over at his brother, wondering if maybe he should just stay… It’s hard to leave when Matt’s so sick. He goes over to Matt’s bedside table and pulls out his talking thermometer.
“Here, let’s see how you’re doing. If it’s above 101, I’ll take you to the nurse’s office myself.”
Mike takes the thermometer out of its case and Matt opens his mouth to receive it. Mike sits down on the bed next to Matt while they wait. “Honestly, Matt, I feel really guilty that I’m so excited to go to class. Even if I have to pretend to be you to do it. I’ve been keeping up with the reading, this whole time. I’m sorry… I guess I’m not sorry enough not to go, but… Maybe you’re right. I’m just afraid what would happen. I don’t think I’m strong enough to leave him when he gets back.”
The thermometer announces in a monotone electronic voice, “One hundred point nine,” and Mike takes it from his mouth and puts it back in its case.
“Mike… Foggy won’t believe you’re me. You’re too healthy.” Matt leans over and coughs a bit. Mike hand him the water bottle on his bedside table.
“Oh, I got that covered. And, I do mean covered…” Mike goes over to his school bag, which is identical to Matt’s school bag, and opens the front pocket. “I carry around foundation. I’m not proud of it, but I do get bruised, doing what I do… Gotta cover up the occasional black eye, here and there… I put this on my cheeks, and I’ll be pale as you, Matty…”
“Mike… NO…”
“Yes, Matty, no discussion. I’ll get you some good notes.” Mike looks down at his watch and notices the time. Then, he realizes, he’s still wearing a digital watch and takes it off, stuffing it in the front pocket of his school bag. “Well, Matty, if I want to make it just on time to class, I need to leave in the next few minutes.” He walks over to Matt, leans down, and plants a kiss on his forehead. Matt squirms in bed a bit, and wipes the area with the back of his hand. “I’ll come check in on you soon. Feel better, ok?”
Matt tries to sit up, but he’s too nauseated. His ‘World on Fire’ isn’t giving him the usual amount of information about his surroundings.
Fortunately, he knows the room and his brother well, even if there isn’t much he can do. “Fine. But, try not to make Foggy too mad at me. Really, you should just introduce yourself like a normal person. I’m sure after he got over the shock, he’d be your friend, too.”
Mike smiles at the idea, though he knows that would never happen. He grabs Matt’s cane, puts on a pair of sunglasses, and heads out the door, carrying both his school bag and the laptop bag. Friends are for normal people. That’s something he’ll never be…
Re: Where Matt has a real identical twin named Mike who is sighted and is Daredevil
He holds Matt’s cane above the ground to avoid the telltale sound of it touching the hard floor of the room. It isn’t quiet in there, the class hasn’t started yet and the room is filled with the chatter of dozens of voices discussing their plans for the weekend. He scans the room quickly, his eyes sweeping from left to right, over the heads of the students, Matt’s - his - classmates. He keeps his head completely still as he looks, with his eyes hidden behind the dark glasses, all anybody will see is Matt starting at the door to the lecture hall. He locates Foggy a couple of rows ahead, dictaphone in his hand, inexpertly experimenting with the buttons.
Mike can’t help but roll his eyes as he slides into the first seat on the back row. In his haste to blend into the background before Foggy turns round and notices him, he allows his carefully maintained facade to slip just slightly, neglecting to locate the chair with his cane, or to check that it was unoccupied before sitting down. It was a sloppy move, one that someone watching him might have noticed even without having suspicions. Luckily, all the eyes have now turned away.
He places the bag on the desk in front of him and pulls out Matt’s laptop. As he does, he keeps his gaze firmly focussed on the back of Foggy’s head three rows below him. It helps him to resist the urge to look down at what he is doing. When the laptop is in position and switched on, he breaks character again, just for a moment, to visually check that the volume is turned down before the screenreader starts broadcasting his every keystroke to the room. That done, he calls up the word processing program. Again he has to look at the screen for that, and use the tracking pad instead of the hotkeys. There is no way around that; he doesn’t know the shortcuts. He makes a mental note to learn them, ready for next time.
He gets lucky again, nobody appears to notice. Not that they would, he doesn’t expect many of them to be familiar with the details of how Matt uses his computer. The only student who might realistically be able to realize something is wrong is sitting too far in front of him to see. When it comes to actually making the notes, this won’t be a problem, he thought himself to touch type years ago, not long after Stick’s next level training had begun. He had thought himself to do a lot of things without vision, and over the years it had come very useful.
Mike pulls up hood of his sweatshirt up over his head and slouches in his seat, hoping that he looks suitably sick, as he awaits the start of the class. Nerves minge with excitement at the prospect of being there. He will never be able to do this for real, but just for today, maybe longer depending on how long Matty is stuck in bed, he can pretend.
In retrospect, Foggy realizes, he should have asked Matt how the dictaphone worked before he took it out with him. He had assumed it would be easy to figure out, and probably it is, but he would hate to do it wrong and accidentally erase something Matt needed. He pushes a few buttons experimentally, making sure that they do what he expects them to do. Suddenly, loud enough to be heard easily in the room filled with pre-class chatter, the voice of another professor giving a class from the week before begins to play.
Panicked, Foggy stops the sound, then glances around the room, red cheeked and apologetic, so see how many people are staring at him. That is when he notices Matt on the back row. His head is covered by a green hoodie pulled right up so that it partially obscures his face. He slouches in his seat, the bottom of his face hidden behind the screen of his laptop, but it in unmistakably him.
Foggy stares in his direction, in disbelief. Part of his wants to get up, march to the back of the room and ask him what the hell he thinks he is doing. The other part realizes that that is a stupid idea. If Matt decided he felt well enough to go to class, that was his business. Of course, if he decided he didn’t trust his roommate not to mess up the recording of the class, that was… he looked at the item in his hands and sighed. That might be accurate, now he thought of it.
He glances at Matt again, feeling a little guilty for staring at him without his knowledge. He looks paler even than he had in the dorm room as he raises a hand to his mouth and coughs quietly before pulling a kleenex from his pocket and blowing his nose a little too theatrically. Foggy’s eyes narrow, is Matt wearing makeup? He can’t tell for certain from this distance, and it could be the glow of his laptop on his face, but he is sure that he can see a marked difference between the skin tone on his face and neck, like he hadn’t blended properly.
Well, of course he hadn’t, the guy couldn’t see what he was doing. He was probably trying to make himself look better and wound up doing the opposite. Foggy sighed and turned back to the dictaphone as the professor entered the room. If Matt fell asleep halfway through or was too sick to concentrate, he still would appreciate a recording.
Re: Where Matt has a real identical twin named Mike who is sighted and is Daredevil
“Let’s see if anyone has done the reading… Who here can tell me what the Laffer curve is?”
Mike raised his hand.
“Mr. Murdock?” Mike couldn't help but feel a bit of a thrill at his name being called.
“It’s a representation of the relationship between rates of taxation and the resulting levels of government revenue. It is used to explain why a tax increase may reduce taxed activity and raise less revenue or why a tax cut may increase taxed activity and raise revenue more than predicted.”
“Excellent.” The professor nodded and turned towards the board to draw a graph.
“This graph will show that if the tax rate were 0%, the government would not collect any tax revenue. This makes sense from a mathematical standpoint. However, if the government were to tax 100% of all revenue… The government would also receive 0% tax revenue… As no one would be willing to work.” The professor draws a curve that begins and ends at zero. “The exact shape of the curve is disputed. However, it shows the positive impact that a lower tax rate can have on work, output, and employment, as it provides financial incentives to increase these activities…”
Mike continues to take notes for Matt, still tickled pink that he had an opportunity to participate in class. He realizes that he’s grinning from ear to ear and tries to school his face to appear a little more bored and a little sicker. He coughs once into his elbow for good measure.
While he’s chiding himself for behaving like such a nerd, it hits him… Did I remember to speak like Matt? He feels a bit of panic, but tries to dismiss it. The professor didn’t seem phased by his accent. Did Foggy notice anything? He tries to look at Foggy without looking like he’s looking.
As he is staring at the back of Foggy’s head, Mike swears he must have felt his eyes on him. Foggy turns around in his seat to look at “Matt”. Their eyes meet. Thankfully, Mike is wearing his glasses, so Foggy is none the wiser. Foggy’s facial expression shows concern. He’s worried about Matt.
Mike feels glad his brother has someone else looking out for him. He’s been worried that Stick could return at any moment and then… And then he may need to keep his distance again. At least Matt’s not going to be on his own this time.
Mike feels guilty about how he occasionally has to stay away from his brother to protect him. Stick says that in order to be good at what they do, they have to cut all personal ties. But, that’s not why he does it.
Being honest with himself, Mike realizes that he will also miss Foggy when the time comes. They have had some good times together. Even with him thinking he’s Matt, he’s still probably the best friend he’s had in years.
Mike realizes that while he was lost in his thoughts he may have missed something. He needs to focus. Otherwise, why come to class? Stick’s not back yet. It’s time to enjoy the now. Mike smiles as he continues to type more notes.
I'm still here
Re: I'm still here
Re: Where Matt has a real identical twin named Mike who is sighted and is Daredevil
Not fast enough though, unfortunately. A hand clasps him on the back and he flinches in surprise. In his haste to get away before Foggy caught him, he had focussed too much on his escape route and what he could see, and forgotten to use his heightened senses to monitor what was happening around him. He had forgotten the first lesson that Stick had ever thought them - that far from being the most important sense, sight was a distraction that may be his undoing if he was unable to train his focus in other directions.
Foggy’s hand grips his shoulder tightly. Mike allows his eyes to close before he turns to face him, not willing to make the same mistake again.
“You’re looking better suddenly,” Foggy tells him.
Mike grimaces inwardly and allows himself to slump just slightly before he replies. He tenses his throat and speaks in a hoarse whisper. “It comes and goes.”
Eyes still closed beneath his glasses, he can hear Foggy’s eye roll in his answer, “Nothing to do with you not trusting me with your dictaphone then?”
Mike hesitates. His heightened sense of touch allows him to feel the pale foundation that he had applied before the lecture sitting heavily in every pore, he had put it on like an expert, and he knows that he realistically looks like shit, even if his performance the lecture hall hadn’t backed that up.
“It’s not like that, honestly, I just felt better, so I…” He sways slightly, reaching out his hands to the sides as though to steady himself and allowing his cane to slip from his grip as he does.
Foggy catches first it, and then Mike, grabbing him tightly by his shoulders to steady him.
“Jesus, Matt, look at yourself. You’re ready to fall down from exhaustion.”
Mike shakes his head, “I’m fine, seriously.”
“No, you are the least fine person I’ve even seen. There are people that are dying who look better than you. I know you can’t verify that for yourself, but trust me, man, you need to be back in bed.”
Mike takes back the cane and gave Foggy a weak smile in return. “You’re probably right,” he agrees.
Foggy puts an arm around Mike’s chest and tucks his hand under his arm, as though to support him as they head back to the dorm. Mike allows himself a moment of victory before moving on to the next problem to solve. They can’t go back to the dorm, Matt is already there, tucked up in bed and probably fast asleep.
They turn a corner and walk through the door into the cool outside air. Mike slows a little, and Foggy reduces his case to compensate.
“You couldn’t do me a favor, could you?” Mike asks.
He feels Foggy shrug his shoulders through their close contact.
“My head is killing me. You couldn’t pick me up some tylenol, could you? And maybe something to settle my stomach?”
Foggy hesitates. “Sure, just let me get you back to the dorm and I’ll…"
“I’m fine,” Mike insists, allowing a little more strength to ebb back into his voice. “We’re practically there anyway, I’ll be fine.”
Foggy’s grip on him loosens, just sightly at first, and then, as though testing whether or not he will fall down if left to stand unaided, Foggy retreats completely. There is something about his heart rate that speaks of uncertainty, “You sure?”
Mike nods. “I’m good Foggy, honestly.”
Foggy takes a hesitant step in the other direction, then pauses. “If I come back this way and find you passed out on the ground, there’ll be hell to pay, Murdock.”
Mike smiles. “I’ll probably be asleep when you get back, but I promise it’ll be in a bed.”
“I’ll be back in ten minutes,” Foggy tells him, before turning and heading away.
Mike relaxes as soon as he turns away. He takes a moment to orient himself, and then walks back to the dorm to check on Matt, cane swinging ahead of him as he goes, and eyes still tightly closed. He had forgotten a valuable lesson just then, and although nothing had come of it, there was no excuse for not keeping his senses sharp.
Especially when his teacher could be anywhere, checking up on him, ready to serve up another harsh lesson. Better to do it himself than to be forced to swallow the bitter tea.