5553/Black Sky: I Know He's Hiding Something!

Black Sky: I Know He's Hiding Something!
Date of Scene:	14 October 2018
Location:	Josie's Bar, New York City
Synopsis:	Kate and Claire enjoy a ladies night at Josie's where Kate puts the pieces together and thinks she's figured out who Matt is. Only time will tell if she's right!
Cast of Characters:	Hawkeye (Bishop), Claire Temple
Tinyplot:	Black Sky

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Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Ladies Night at Josies was something of a tradition. Not that it meant any less men were at the bar, just that there were slightly more ladies? And their drinks were cheaper. Which was a win-win as far as Kate was concerned. That trust fund of hers was seeing entirely too many withdrawls lately, and she wasn't looking forward to family dinner at the end of the month explaining to her smugly smiling father as to why that was happening.

'Are you sure you made a wise career choice there, my dear? Nobody will fault you for letting go of that little game you tried out. We'll put this slumming episode of yours behind us all and see you in all the right doors..'

Usually Kate shut the drone of the speech out by then. She'd had it memorized, right down to the varients, including the point where her mother sighed and looked pained on both their behalves and pleaded with her daughter to please just humour her father just this once..

It was enough to stubborn Kate right up for another month, every month, and the cycle continued.

Tonight, though, Kate has invited Claire to come share cheap drink night with her. Beer and wings! And not just because they're cheap. Kate also has all the questions for the other woman, by virtue of Claire's friendship with one Matt Murdock, Esq.

Claire Temple has posed:
The beer is cheap and the water is (relatively) filtered. Claire shrugs to herself as she tugs open the door to the local greasy spoon/tap/ewww and stops at a gap in the bar stool array to put in her first beer order of the night. May as well start the tab off right.

She looks around at the tables to find where Kate is sitting, sparing a glance (and a distant, discreet whiff) at a plate of wings as she wanders past. Oh, boy, better hold off on the Cajun wings tonight, she tells herself as she walks past the stand-up table holding the insult to human gastronomy. "Kate!" she says, snapping out of her reverie as she gets to Kate's table and takes a seat across from the PI. "Please tell me you haven't put in a wing order yet."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate is well into her second beer. Her first was downed quickly as she pondered how best to tackle this evening - that and between looking for Matt's friend Genus, and hunting down info on the man himself, she'd put in long hours and decided she deserved the treat.

Besides, cheap beer night meant she could drink twice as much for half the price. Or something like that. New math.

When Claire enters, Kate cheerfully waves her down. "Hey! You might want to order a second. You're one behind, and rules are rules."

Okay, so they hadn't agreed on rules, but Kate didn't mind pushing envelopes from time to time. All for a good cause, and finding out about Matt's secret was a good cause. At least that's what she told herself. Besides, she liked Claire. Beer == bonding time.

Claire Temple has posed:
"Well," Claire replies, sucking in a breath through her teeth, "I've self-imposed a one-bottle-at-a-time limit. Call it a discipline, but it also prevents things like whipping pizza platters across the room. Don't ask," she notes, holding up a hand to forestall any clarifying questions about Claire's not-quite-forgotten loss of temper on an earlier visit.

"Rules are by the patron, and mine is not to touch the cajun wings. Or to allow anyone else to touch the cajun wings," she says, glancing over her left shoulder at a few patrons with sour expressions as the spices do something other than their intended job. "So what's new?" she asks.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Sigh." (Yes, she actually said 'sigh'). "Now, see, you disappoint me. I'll buy the one bottle at a time, but you're still behind. And pretty sure I want to see that pizza platter thign, but no cajun wings? The heat is a whole other reason to enjoy more beer!"

Kate says it like she's a real drinker, when in fact, she isnt'. But there are all sorts of ways one disguises one's self, and Kate has a carefully cultivated facade for most occassions.

Men checking out her drinking partner's crossing the bar to join her called for jovial, devil may care, we're free spirits, watch out world! What actually went on at the table after that wouldn't even be noticed, because in the minds of everyone there, she'd already set the stage for what they imagined was going on.

Kate waits till Claire sits down, and pushes the wings over. There's an extra clean plate waiting for Claire to put some wings on, as well as a basket for the bones, already on the table. Kate, it seems, has had a few already.

"Don't worry, they're actually mild. I wasn't sure what you'd like, and I like to taste my drink when I settle down to enjoy one. But seriously, you're behind a bottle. I expect that to be rectified."

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire dismisses the expectation with a snort. "Chick, I don't work for a body count," she says, holding up both hands. "They keep coming while I'm here and able to walk out that door? It's all good," she says, leaning forward to make a sniff toward the basket of wings. Satisfied for her enteric safety, she grabs a few and puts them on her plate, sneaking an extra drum to keep from pulling too many flappers from the batch. The cook might be 50/50 fair on wings, but Claire's plate doesn't have to be.

"The cajun wings tonight are just nasty. Loaded them up with so much junk that you'll be regretting it two days later. Please don't ask how I know," she says, shaking her head. "Medical knowledge only. Otherwise, the pizza's okay. Hold off on the burgers."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate just laughs. She's not married to the idea of either of them getting drunk.

"That's right. You're a nurse. And you have that clinic. You know, I have a lot of contacts in the fund raising world. If you're ever in need of funds, you wouldn't believe the favours I'm owed." If by favours you mean a slight application of blackmail against people who would rather write a cheque than chance Kate actually knows something sinistser about them.

"I have work to do later myself, Was thinking this one, and maybe one more. Depends on how this evening goes." She's not too concerned that Claire pulls the flappers. They're messier, if slightly tastier. Kate's just happy to have warm food, cold beer, and company. "I don't mind the pizza here, but if we're doing pizza next time, how about Gino's? You gotta watch the beer there, though. He keeps trying to pawn this stuff his son in law makes. It's horrible."

She shudders.

"I'll take your word on the cajun wings. And if you're ever at a charity gala where they're serving clams casino, you might want to avoid those, too. Same reason. I mean, the two days later thing. I'm not sure they count as loaded with junk."

The young woman nabs a drumstick herself, and pulls a swath of meat off of it, chewing thoughtfully. "So, I ran into our mutual friend, Matt." Totally just throwing Matt under the friend bus there. "He looks like hell if you don't mind my saying."

A pause, then a nod.

"Hell's not a swear. Carry on."

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire quirks an eyebrow. "Depends on how it's used. Hell of a lot of variation that way," she says, ripping into a slightly juicier drum. "And thanks on the clams casino, but, um... not quite my kind of gig? Matt might be able to help you with that, though." She pauses, cocking her head. "With the clams and the gala, I understand," she says.

"And yeah," she agrees with a sigh, "He does look like shit lately. He's been having a rough time. Well," she says as she gets a swig of her beer, "rougher than usual."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate shrugs. "Not really my kind of gig, either, but unfortunately, one does what one has to sometimes. Besides, free meal? Putting a face on your charity? You could do it. However, we can talk about that later. I can't kick back if I'm talking fundraising, and tonight is all about kicking back."

She makes short work of her wing, and tosses the bone into the basket with unerring ease.

"Rougher than usual?" The young woman quirks a brow like she's got no clue what Claire might be talking about, even if she knows a friend of his died, and by trolling the obituaries, she's pretty sure she knows /who/, if not why Matthew Murdock knew that particular person. "How much trouble can one lawyer get into?"

She casually reaches for another wing.

Claire Temple has posed:
"Depends on how much he applies himself to his cases," Claire replies, reaching for a flapper and tugging off some skin before popping it into her mouth experimentally and pulling a face. "He gets some of the rougher clientele around town." She rocks her head back and forth briefly around the "rougher" descriptor.

She reaches for a drum and takes a bite, then quickly downs a gulp of beer at some meat that might have dried a little after the fryer. "He does good work, but it does take a toll."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate crinkles her nose. "He rides a suit. Albeit an ill fitting suit." Yes, she'd seen pictures. She hadn't come to talk to Claire cold. "And I know all about the pro-bono cases, but he's hardly a fist fighter. I thought lawyers were built to run on coffee and bad takeout between winning cases."

She nods.

"He wins a lot. I confess, I was impressed. He's.." Kate chuckles to herself as she pauses in that thought. "Nah, he's right where he should be. He'd hate himself if he worked for some big firm. I still don't see it, though. Unless his clientelle is beating him up."

Kate quirks a brow as she says that, watching Claire's reaction carefully.

Claire Temple has posed:
"They are, and he does, mainly at the behest of his partner," Claire grants with a nod. "He and Foggy are local celebrities at every pizza, Thai, and Chinese joint within walking distance of their office." She waves at the bar for another beer. "Especially if they do delivery."

"Matt Murdock beats himself up," she says, eyeing Kate over the lip of the beer bottle after she gets the last gulp out of it. "Fist fighting's a thing for him, though. Dad was a boxer, and he's a regular down at Fogwell's."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"Well, if you ask me, he was doing a fine job of beating himself up over something. He might have been freshly showered, but he forgot to shave. I'm guessing three days growth?"

If Kate was right about the 'friend' who had died, three days growth was bang on.

"And just now does a blind man box?" Ever so casually, and ever so disbelieving, all over a sip of beer. "Seriously, he looked like if I left the bag with the biscotti in the wrong spot he'd have tripped over it."

Such a lie, and it falls with such ease and grace from her lips. Like she hadn't noticed the preturnatural ease with which Matt moved about his place. How he hadn't even made the slightest of hesitations to avoid her when she made her way into his apartment and settled down for their talk.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire nods contemplatively, pursing her lips as she thinks back on Matt's trends in grooming. "That sounds about average for him, yeah. Hates shaving. Compensatory sensitivity thing, plus, y'know, a few bad experiences with blades." She winces for emphasis, not bothering to go into gory or revelatory detail. "He makes a lot of adjustments to get by with the blindness, but some things... well." She grabs another flapper off her plate and sinks her teeth into some juice. Much better, this one.

"And he's been compensating for a long time, long enough that he doesn't have to think his way through it as much as folks might expect," she grants. "He was what, eight? Nine? Eight, I think," she says with a nod. "Swinging at a heavy bag that won't deflect too much isn't a difficult way for him to get his exercise. Definitely safer than walking around Hell's Kitchen."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"I kind of like gruff looking men. Something about that whole rugged look." Of course she's not actually suggesting she's looking at Matt that way, more a generic observation. Not to mention, when her thoughts drift ruggedwards, they're still making a pitstop on a certain blonde archer.

Her features turn wry for a moment, before she observes, "Yeah, that whole night job of his. Rough business." Not that Kate knows about Matt's night job. She's stabbing in the dark, so to speak, and pulling from his vague comments about listening to cries in the night and needing to do something about them. She couldn't quite place, yet, how on earth he might be involved in 'doing something', but that's when that gut feeling had hit her. The one that said he was speaking in code, if only she had the key.

And Kate was counting on Claire to be that key.

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire huffs a small laugh as her beer arrives. "I don't know that he's going for any kind of look," she says with a shrug. "I mean, his suits are customized just enough for him to be comfortable wearing them, not for him to be a model," she says, eyebrows raised. "And if he gets too rugged, Foggy has something to say about it before he gets to the courtroom." She giggles at the memory of a long-ago conversation. "Apparently Foggy knows a lot about going for the rugged look."

"Matt works nights when he has to," she says, turning to Kate's other questions as she fishes around in the plate of wings for another drum... and fine, another flapper. This one had better be juicy. "And if it's bad enough, he works it off boxing. It's amazing how long he can go when he gets pissed off. Like, knuckles bleeding and everything. I've had to tell him about his habits more than once," she says with a nod and eyes rolling to the side in memory.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
"I have to meet this Foggy." A whole new person whose brain she can pick about Matt's secrets. "Matt kind of strikes me as the kind who needs a keeper, you know?" Figuring Foggy might fill that role. "He isn't.. you know?"

Kate makes a hand gesture, wriggling her hand at the wrist to imply certain proclivities, all the while knowing the man damn well does not swing that way.

"And yeah, I guess you patch him up a lot, huh?"

Oh so innocent, playing along with Claire's version of the story, waiting for a slip up. Knowing there is likely to be one, and if there isn't, she'll at least have more information to triangulate her next avenue of investigation. This wasn't her first rodeo.

Claire Temple has posed:
"He's not a eunuch," Claire musters in a hideous impersonation of a drunken pirate. "Foggy and he go way back -- law school, even, which sounds like it was a major trial for Matt," she says. "From the sounds of it, accessibility wasn't Columbia Law's strongest suit, which you'd think otherwise, but..." she shrugs. "A few years of dealing with that and staggering each other home drunk? They're friends for life."

Claire nods at Kate's latter question, her expression that of one who gets tired of her job but trundles along anyway. "I do," she says. "It reached a point that I had to order supplies just for him, although he's been better about that since I yelled at him about it," she says, grabbing the last drum off the main plate. "At least, he has been better. Whether this new turn is going to mean I have to yell at him again, I'm not sure."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate smiles over her beer. "I can't say I've had the pleasure. Radcliffe was a whole other experience. I chose not to indulge." She shrug, and reaches for another wing with her free hand.

"Seriously, what's his deal? Ordering in supplies just for him? I saw how he moved around. That's not a man who gets hit with the bag at the gym enough to need you to order in his own special cupboard of fixer uppers. He implied we had a lot in common."

Claire Temple has posed:
"Have you asked him just what that might be?" Claire asks, taking a pull from her beer and swilling the bottle around contemplatively. "I mean, he's not exactly one for heart-to-hearts on a drop, but it sounds like you've got some stuff to chat over... though maybe not at ladies' night," she notes with eyes flicking to each side as she concludes that the nightly special might not present the best option for the two to discuss. "What do you think you'd have in common?" she asks.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate flat out lets go of all the pretenses at this point. "He challenged me to find out. So I'm not thinking he's all that worried about my knowing. I mean, he didn't precisely enter into full on evil overlord cackle, but it was implied he didn't think I was up to the task."

Kate shrugs, a glint in her eyes that bespeaks of a stubborn will, and a I'll die before I admit defeat.

"That's the whole thing. We were talking about my night job. He said he understood how it was. That he listened to the sirens at night and he couldn't let them be. There's something there." She shakes her head, and wraps her fingers loosely about her beer mug. "If I had to guess?"

Long momemnts of thought follow that.

"You don't patch up blind men beating on boxing bags. And I've read up on most of his cases. A lot of them come with photos. Not a mention of being beaten up on a regular basis. So how does a blind man both rate needing his own personal care nurse, who admits to having to buy supplies just for him, and explain us having something in common? What's he do, go wandering alleys at night asking for criminals to jump the blind man and surprise them?"

Not knowing just how close she actually is to the truth. All she needs is to remember exactly who patrols the streets at night in Hell's Kitchen and she can answer her own question.

Claire Temple has posed:
"I'm not *exclusively* his nurse," Claire says, dropping some flapper bones into the basket. "Just around in his building during the off hours he'd need help. I can divulge that he wouldn't go to a pharmacy clinic, much less a hospital, if he needed it and you held a gun to his head, so I get to help. Anything else," she says, tipping her head forward to look at Kate from under her eyebrows, "is going to break medical confidentiality. And as well as I've come to know Matt Murdock, I still can't dole that out."

"I think," Claire says at length, rolling a paper napkin between her hands and eyeing Kate narrowly after she pulls up a few more wings, some oil dripping onto the plate from a fresh batch that is thankfully heavy-spice-free, "that if he's really challenging you to figure out what kinds of things you two have in common, you might want to do some more fieldwork in whatever kinds of things you like to do. I mean, stopping in at Josie's is great and all," she says, gesturing to the plates, the beer, the ambiance, and the clientele, "but all of that seems kind of simple to test by going out and looking around, you know?" Her voice drops and she pulls a face. "You're not asking to sit in the next time he comes to me for treatment, are you? Because that's not happening."

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
Kate smiles and picks up her beer. "Oh, you don't have to break medical confidentiality. You already told me everything I need to know. I think I've got that last piece."

And she did think she did. That whole he wouldn't go to the hospital if you held a gun to his head? There were few and far between reasons for a reaction like that, and in that moment it had all tweaked. Who roamed Hell's Kitchen at night?

That, Kate knew. She just needed to, as Claire put it, put in a little bit of fieldwork to confirm her suspicions, and Bob was her uncle. Only she didn't have an uncle Bob.

Kate leans in, her voice dropping likewise, "No, I won't be sitting in, but I might visit you myself. I have been known to get into a scrape or two."

Claire Temple has posed:
Claire cocks her head. "Just let me know when to start a folder for you," she says as she starts in on another drum. "And don't even think of crashing on my couch," she says, voice dry as she regards Kate.

She takes another chug from her bottle and waves over to the bar for another round on her tab. "So," she asks, her voice brighter, "just what kind of night job do you have that your asking about Matt's?" She drops the drum bone into the basket and reaches for a flapper.

Hawkeye (Bishop) has posed:
It's here that Kate flashes a brilliant grin. "Oh, me? I'm the better Hawkeye."