maskormenacelogs | oh, if I could only coax you overboard,

Entry tags:

oh, if I could only coax you overboard,

WHO: Matt Murdock and Lillian Crawley-Jeffries
WHERE: by the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea...
WHEN: March 23 (backdated like whoa)
WHAT: Not-a-date lunch date
WARNINGS: Two adults who should know better being ridiculous?

[Matt's not really sure what he's doing, to be honest. He should be spending his lunch (and maybe his afternoon) into cases and research, trying to figure out a starting point for the plans he needs to put in motion. He'll need to give Frank a target soon, a goal; he'll need to figure out a solution for Harvey slightly more permanent than loose conditions. At some point, he needs to get back together with Kate; he needs to take the bar and get out of this government-handout job (an ugly way to put it, but he can't think of a better one, sadly.) And yet here he is, propositioning Lillian Crawley-Jeffries for lunch. And not just lunch: an adventure lunch.

The justification of course would be that she's having a difficult time, and he should be a good friend (with no Foggy here to point out how utterly selfish he can be at times.) Or that he needs to blow off some steam (again, no Foggy here to point out how unlike him that is, quite like this, how he used to be grim and serious and far off from the time he might have casually invited a woman to the beach.) But this is Florida and he can take a few hours off to go do something that's not work. A few hours are not going to make a difference in a case like this.

So he hangs outside the sandwich shop, jacket and tie abandoned back at the office, shirt sleeves rolled up, the picture of casual loitering. Except for how he's listening through the crowd for the sound of her heartbeat, waiting to catch a scrap of the smell of her perfume. Been awhile, since he'd done that.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She can't really remember the last time she felt like she had a reason to dress up. The photoshoots were different -- sometimes it seemed like that wasn't even really her, but some mythical creature spun out of glitter, silk, and her skin. But the person that looked her in the mirror before she left was definitely Lil Crawley. Just a slightly more polished version than usual, decked out in a pretty yellow sundress and of course, the flat shoes.

It's nice. She knows he can't see it, but it still feels nice.

Her long stride carries her when she approaches the sandwich shop. She sees him from a distance, hanging around outside as casual as you please. It makes a small wry smile quirk at the corners of her mouth. When she closes the distance, she reaches out to brush her fingertips against his elbow, announcing herself with a mild taunt: ]

Y'look like you're waitin' for somethin'.

[The distinctions in clothing are all the same to him, until he touches her. To be honest, he might really prefer her this way, without all the smell of make-up and perfume and the fancy clothing. More like a normal person rather than a piece of art.

He hears her coming before she ever says anything, before she's ever within reaching distance, his head turning in the direction of the sound with a welcome smile. This is the sort of thing he'd forgotten how to do, how to have, before he'd made the effort to move past his life again. Before Kirsten, at least, had taught him how to do it again.]

Well, as it happens, I'm waiting for my date. Very tall, has good taste in sandwiches?

[ Through the men that came before him, she's become more appreciative of little things -- like being greeted with a smile. It's infectious and charming, the kind of smile you can't help returning. So she does, letting it light up her face when he plays along with her. ]

I happen t'be ridiculously tall. An' I got decent taste in sandwiches.

[ Her voice becomes a little quieter, low and playful. ]

Think y'could settle for me?

[Nobody can ever accuse Matt of a certain Frank Castle-like reticence with his emotions. They are aaaaaaaaall out there for anyone to see, from happiness to anger to "I am so done with your shit." You always know where you stand, with him.]

I think we can make it work. Although I wouldn't really call it settling, Lil.

[ Her laughter is a bright sound that she only makes a half-assed attempt to stifle with her fingertips, pressing them light and brief against the upward curve of her lips. ]

Well, good. 'Cause I came all the way out here jus' for you, so you're stuck with me now.

[ She pauses, absently tucking stray hair behind her ear before she goes on curiously: ]

Y'gonna tell me why I had t'wear flat shoes now?

How will I ever survive.

[It's such an ordeal, taking a beautiful woman to the beach. Even if he can't appreciate the view, or the exact picture of her in her sundress, it's still sheer torture.]

Because we're going somewhere where heels would be inappropriate?

[Offers her his arm, once again, transferring his cane to the other hand.]

[ She makes a little amused noise, stepping to his side and easily tucking her arm through his, pleased even by that small and simple gesture. It's sweet in a way she hasn't experienced for a long while. ]

That barely narrows it down, y'know.

[ Her voice is light with a tone of teasing. ]

Didn't realize y'were so mysterious.

[It also helps maintain the appearance of a blind man. After all, ordinary ones would need at least a little bit of a guidance, at least sometime, more than could be provided by a cane. The fact that this also means he can press his arm up against hers, and stand in close proximity, is really more of a side benefit.]

Why, Ms. Crawley-Jeffries, didn't you know a lawyer has to have a very good poker face. And be very good at keeping their clients' secrets, and an ace up their sleeve, just in case.

[ Well, at least one of them can claim to have a very good poker face. Lil, on the other hand, wears her heart on her sleeve -- every emotion out in the open, for all to see. A disaster, really, in her bad moments. But at times like these, it has a small, amused smile curving at her mouth, crinkling the corners of her eyes.

When she answers, it's mocking in the most amicable way: ]

Good t'know you're discrete. [ She reaches over to pat his arm lightly. ] But I figure I'll probably be an easier time than your clients.

[A good poker face is a skill. It doesn't mean he's not deeply emotional. Anybody who's ever made Matt Murdock angry can testify that he has a temper like a volcano, when it gets to it, and one day, should these two ever fight, they'll need to cordon off the area to prevent civilian casualties.]

Really? No dark secrets? You don't know where any of the bodies are buried? [And then, somewhat far less facetiously:] I'm not worried, about you. Well, not that I don't think you're trouble. But not that kind of trouble. And if I'm wrong, by the way, at least wait until the end of the day to tell me.

[The smell of salt is getting stronger, as they move quite obviously in the direction of the ocean. Fortunately, they were already quite close to begin with; otherwise they'd need a cab, and he can't read the meters.]

[ There's another light breath of laughter from her. ]

I'm some kinda trouble. Always have been. [ Just ask her husband. She breaks up the lines in a place just by existing. ] Maybe y'should be worried.

[ It's mostly teasing though -- it isn't as if she has any reason to pick a fight with him. As contentious and stubborn as she absolutely can be, their friendship to this point has been a surprisingly smooth one.

But more importantly, she can smell the ocean. It makes her pause and tilt her head up a little. ]

Hon, I hope y'ain't expectin' me t'swim.

Mmm, I don't think so. Not my bag.

[This is a lie; he's got plenty of things to worry about. It is true that he probably should worry a lot more than he does. What is it Foggy says? Hope is not a plan, Matty, and damn if he hasn't been thinking about that advice a lot lately.

Still ignoring it, though.]

As much as I might appreciate the view, if I could still see it, I would have told you if you needed definitely needed a bathing suit.

[ Not that Lil would be one to judge. She's never been particularly good at planning either -- too much of a gut reaction type of woman -- and she has remarkably selective hearing when it comes to advice in general. But she's definitely paying attention now.

Honestly, it's hard to say if she's found anyone this charming since she met Madison Jeffries nearly two decades ago. ]

Not that kinda surprise, huh? I ain't much of a swimmer these days anyway. [ Her response is mild, even a little joking. ] You're really keepin' me in suspense here.

[It's not even like Matt goes out of his way to be impressive...sometimes. It's true he's a smug piece of shit, at times; it's true that he's got an ego and he's reckless and devil-may-care (ha) at times, when not brooding. But he's always been good at a show, and charming has always been part of that. What good is a show if the audience doesn't get into it, anyway?

Flirting is just the same.]

It's not that big of a surprise. Surely you can guess.

[Who doesn't want a beach picnic?]

[ Honestly, it's hard to remember the last time took her on an outing even remotely like a beach picnic. She just isn't young anymore -- and somehow, anything remotely resembling romance mostly fell by the wayside, somewhere between the complications of a failed marriage and the sacrifices every superhero makes.

She watches Matt a moment, tilting her head slightly as they walk side-by-side.

Finally, in that same mild tone, words touched with a certain lightness that keep them from sounding entirely serious: ]

Romantic walk down the beach? Might be a cliche, but it's a good one.

[It's not like either of them are young anymore. It's not even like Matt's life has left a lot of time for dating, let alone romance. At least, ordinary people romance, not the sort where you come to someone's window at night in costume.]

I can certainly put that on the agenda, if that's what you want.

[With no shame, no hesitation. Not even missing a beat for the inclusion of the word romantic, something they have less than subtly been skirting around here.]

[ She'd tried for ordinary people's romance years before -- forgetting of course, that it was meant for ordinary people. Despite her humble origins, she was decidedly not one of them. Still, this was nice. Almost normal, and pleasant in that way. ]

That's real sweet of you.

[ Teasing praise. ]

Charmin', handsome, an' thoughtful. Surprised y'ain't got gals lined up on your doorstep.

[Boy problems. Don't forget. Don't overstep, don't overthink it, it doesn't have to mean anything. But he has his ego, same as anyone else. It's nice, to be liked.]

And yet, I'm unattached. Surely there must be a reason.

[Bullseye. There's a reason.]

But I assure you, my intentions are just friendly.

[Mostly.]

Guess there must be.

[ She responds easily enough, unfazed by the line of their discussion. It's comfortable for her to just be walking and talking like this, regardless of the subject matter. She's always been fairly shameless and blunt as a conversationalist anyway.

There's just a hint of wryness when she goes on: ]

Y'hidin' some kinda dirty secret or somethin', Mr. Murdock?

[This is the moment of truth. Does he tell her, that he's Daredevil? It's not so much of a dirty secret anymore. But it would be a shame to ruin a friendship that's been left uncomplicated by the need for secret identities.]

Everybody has a couple of skeletons in their closet. I wouldn't blame somebody for turning away if they stumbled on one of mine.

[Because he can't just lie about it; if he said he had none, that would be obviously untrue. Everybody has something.]

You're not going to find any on the beach, though. Or in the picnic basket.

[Which is subtly rigged with one of those gadgets you can get from inventor friends to tase anyone who might think of stealing it before he can get there, even though there's practically no one around.]

[ Oh. So that's it. She can forgive the less-than-subtle subject change, because there's something a bit endearing about the idea of a beach picnic that just tickles her. Maybe it was all that time in the concentration camps, but it's always simple, uncomplicated things like this that make her happy. It coaxes her smile to grow big and pleased. ]

Matt.

[ Lil gives him a playful, fond little smack on the shoulder. ]

That's so sweet.

Edited 2014-05-08 20:58 (UTC)

[Little by her standards, or little by normal people standards? He's well equipped to survive, either way, and to bump her back with the offended shoulder quite easily.]

Don't get carried away. I just got tired of the view from my office, and you're the only person I know who'd actually walk out for lunch just because I asked.

[But he's pretty pleased with himself nonetheless. And pleased that she seems pleased. And not even being subtle about it.]

Who's gettin' carried away, huh? Y'went t'alotta damn trouble jus' t'avoid the view from your office.

[ Still, she easily puts one arm around him, giving him a gentle squeeze before she lets go to wander ahead a few steps. She does have to admit, the view from here is pretty hard to beat -- even if she isn't much of a swimmer these days, she can appreciate the waves lapping against the shore as much as anyone else. It's a beautiful day.

Glancing back at him, she adds mildly: ]

Not that I'm complainin', 'course.

Well, normally, I don't get the chance to go to the beach. I figure I should take advantage of the opportunity while I can.

[He's busy taking off his shoes at the edge of the blanket, and then casually rolling the legs of his pants up to his knees. Really going to need to invest more in shorts. Which you can't wear to the office. Ah, well, can't win them all.]

And when I do get somewhere with a beach, I usually spend all my time working instead of just listening to the waves.

[And with that he settles himself down on the blanket to "watch", casually undoing one more button or two on his shirt as well.]

[ She lingers a moment to appreciate the sight of the beach and the smell of sea salt from the water before she finally turns to join him. Her shoes -- beach appropriate, at his suggestion -- get left by the side of the blanket. Absently folding her skirt under her with her hands, she sits with her long legs tucked to the side. ]

When I was livin' on Utopia, y'could always hear the ocean. Wasn't like this though -- y'know, nice an' warm an' pretty.

[ She'd also been fairly busy having shouting matches with her husband, at the time. ]

Gotta say, I think I like this better.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject