milliways_bar | (no subject)

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[oom: You really shouldn't have said his name.]

When Matt walks in a whole lot of noise follows him. The police station he's exiting is in a state of chaos and Matt is speaking to someone behind him as he leaves.

"It's alright, Sergeant, I'm fine. Foggy or I will be around to check into those files later."

An apology from Brett Mahoney follows Matt as the door closes, and Matt sighs.

Matt is tired, and frustrated, angry even, but he's also just realized where he's walked into.

After a moment he decides he could use a respite from the cacophony he's just left and so, using his cane, Matt crosses the room and takes a seat up at the counter.

"Cup of coffee, please," he requests as he folds up his cane and sets it down on the counter.

Bar provides a cup along with a bowl of hearty potato soup with half a club sandwich tucked next to it.

Matt's stomach rumbles in response to the smell, but his expression is less enthused.

"Do you mother everyone who sits down?" he asks, to which Bar responds by providing a cloth napkin and a spoon.

Matt's jaw tics, but he withholds another sigh.

[ooc: warnings for violence and npc death in the oom.]

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As Matt approaches the bar he'll smell an antiseptic creme and whiskey first, then sweat (a mix of fear, fighting, and being in a car with leather seats for too long), hints of something like brimstone, and leather; as well as a strong heartbeat and old lavender soap.

It's been a long tri[ for Jess, but she notices the guy walking up to the bar and watches to see if he might need some verbal clues once she spots the cane.

Matt goes through the 'show' here, tracing the mug until his fingers find the handle to lift it, hands feeling out and settling the place setting in front of him carefully, but he doesn't appear to need help with any of it.

Taking in the woman nearby, Matt first determines the blood he smells isn't from serious injury, and then it's the whiskey that stands out the most and for a moment Matt considers touching up his coffee.

It is still working hours for him though and he has plans at the precinct tonight.

It's thoughts of the latter that make him reconsider and Matt asks Bar, "Mind touching this up?"

A napkin appears and Matt reads the braille upon it with his fingertips, not quite scowling but obviously a touch annoyed.

"Fine."

He waits, and Bar does too until Matt finally breaks and lifts the sandwich to take a bite.

Nothing seems to change, but Matt's nose tells him his coffee now has the splash of booze he was wanting.

"She's such a mother isn't she?" Jess jokes, which earns her a sandwich of her own. She lifts the top slice of bread and groans. "Could I at least get a ham sandwich? I'm allergic to turkey...or something."

Bar holds out, so Jess sighs and picks up the sandwich to take a bite.

Tilting his head in the direction of the woman's voice, Matt gives a wry smile.

"I suppose it is somewhat comforting knowing that I'm not the only one."

"I guess that is something to work with." She salutes him with her sandwich, which is actually tasty, despite being turkey. "I just saluted you with my sandwich like it was a glass. In case you cared."

Her voice is friendly and irreverent.

Cassian's sitting at the counter, nursing a whiskey with the smell of different oils and explosions mixed with industrial smoke clinging to him.

When he hears Matt's question, he says, "Yes, she does. She's worse than my droid."

Oh.

Hey.

Sandwich.

That smells good.

Soup does too.

Puffy lands on the bar and does that innocent bird totally not interested in the food that Matt has, isn't he a cute little bird yes he is, gosh darnit shuffle towards said food that he totally has no interest in. Nope. Not at all.

Matt gives a brief chuckle and returns the salute with his own sandwich, taking another bite to seal it.

Bar is no doubt rather pleased with herself at this point.

Setting what's left of the sandwich down, Matt takes up his coffee and draws a careful sip.

"Overbearing or not, the food and drink here are pretty fantastic," he comments.

The smoke and chemicals are a bit unpleasant, but Matt doesn't react to them. Lifting his mug up, he takes a sip, breathing in the coffee before responding to Cassian.

"Droid?" he asks with a slightly curious head tilt.

Matt has been sharing his home with a cat recently.

A cat who is decidedly an asshole.

Matt is a little over putting up with animals and their "antics".

No one is paying him or the bird... thing? any mind, so Matt drops the clueless blind man act and warns very firmly, "Don't even think about it."

Should the creature decide to come any closer, Matt is definitely ready with a quick hand to shoo it off.

"My co-pilot, always the first one to tell me if something I'm doing will make whatever I'm doing worse. He's trying to help, so's she,"

Cassian appreciates Bar's care but he's more used to Kay's consistent and numerical based pointing out of what's going to go wrong.

"I have a partner who does the same thing," Matt replies, nodding his understanding.

Foggy can be rather fussy, too, although Matt tends to put up with him better.

Mostly.

Some days.

"Does he also try and feed you?" Kay doesn't do that as much for Cassian, usually he points out the odds and his lack of sleep.

There's someone else approaching the bar, familiar with lily-of-the-valley shampoo and soap and lingering baking smells, and the fainter tang of many-times well-scrubbed shoes (blood is hellishly difficult to completely get out of crevices, but decent shoes are expensive on a baker's wages). She has a sizeable book under one arm, a used textbook, which seems to have come with all the most evocative smells of undergrad life seeped into it.

College students are gross; it's a universal fact.

"Hey you," Sunshine greets Matt with a smile in her voice and on her face, settling at a nearby bar stool. She is glad to see him, though his manner has her resisting the urge to ask what's wrong.

Puffy isn't an asshole.

He's a porg. A hungry porg. And there is food there.

Which is obviously his food.

Cause he sees food.

As the porg has no idea that Matt is blind he gives Matt the most INNOCENT WOOBLY eyes ever.

Pleeeease?! He's a cute and hungry porg. He just wants a tiny itty bit of Matt's sandwich.

Like at least half.

"He tries," Matt says, not about to admit that a lot of the time Foggy also succeeds in that quest.

"It's hardly necessary, but I guess some people just have that instinct to fuss."

That, or some people are just bad enough at taking care of themselves that they prompt the fussing.

"They do. Are you going to eat what she gave you?"

Cassian's usually pretty good at eating, part of cooking for people is he'll eat as he does it. Overworking and sleep is what usually gets him.

Matt picks up on her immediately, and just manages not to turn his head before her arrival and greeting.

When she does speak he brings up a smile and tilts his head in her direction.

"Hello, Rae." And despite events previous to his arrival and the mood they've left him in, his words are warm and he is genuinely glad she's here.

Sunshine settles the heavy textbook onto the bar, and asks Bar for some ginger-lime tea with honey. The fragrantly steaming mug that appear is greeted with a murmured word of thanks from the baker. She wants the spicy-tangy-sweet tea to help clear her mind of cobwebs but also not keep her up when she goes to try for some more sleep, later. She is running on very little sleep, at the moment, and needs all the help she can get.

"How are you doing? You've got Bar in a mother hen-ing mood, I notice," she adds, to soften the directness of the question.

That the remark about Bar earns Rae her own bowl of hearty potato soup (greeted with a faint sigh) goes without saying.

Matt's brow arches slightly, questioning whether Cassian is going to start getting fussy now, too.

"Wouldn't want it to go to waste," he says after a moment.

He's still not going to dig in right away, because Matt is stubborn like that, so he drinks his coffee and asks, "How have you been, Cassian?"

Matt can't see expressions, but there are usually other indicators (or just general inference) on what he's missing that he can pick up on.

With this bird though, those feelings are a little stronger than they usually are and Matt isn't quite sure what to make of it. At the very least this thing's begging skills are next tier to the pathetic mewling he's been getting from the cat.

Deciding he didn't want the sandwich in the first place, Matt tears off a corner and gives it a toss, over the counter's edge but in the generally direction of the bird-thing.

"Here. Congratulations, you've done what a city full of pigeons could never do." Get Matt to feed them.

The aroma of her tea hits the air and Matt's head cants a little as he takes it in. He's not generally a tea drinker, but the fragrant mix is nice, especially after an afternoon of stale police precinct air.

Her tiredness about matches his own, and he hasn't missed those notes of over-scrubbing from her shoes, which makes him wonder.

His own clothes are in order today, his tie just slightly askew, but the rest of the suit is all in order down to the cuffs. Just past those his knuckles are a bit red and slightly swollen from a night's work.

"Busy," he answers her easily. "We took on a new client today and I guess I missed lunch."

When the second bowl appears Matt reacts to Rae's sigh and gives a short chuckle.

"Am I not the only one?"

"That is so very true." She takes another bite and chews. "It's also nice to get the unexpected or expected break from things back home. As well as the good food, if you happen to be in a place where you can't get the good food."

"Do I detect the sweet tones of New York City in your accent?"

"Apparently not," Rae remarks, dry, inhaling the fragrant steam of her tea. "I may have had to skip breakfast this morning, and there was an unscheduled tour bus during the lunch rush today, but I totally was going to get food, eventually."

Sunshine's stomach certainly has strong opinions on the delay.

"A new client! That's great." That is great, right? More business? Establishing their practice? Matt looks like it may be more complicated than that.

Matt wasn't really looking for a break, but perhaps it isn't such a bad thing.

Her question brings a genuine smile and Matt inclines his head.

"And I thought I had the good ear," he comments, then introduces himself, "Matt Murdock, Hell's Kitchen. It's 2015 on my side of the door."

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