Summary:Matt meets Hod, Hod meets Matt, blind jokes are shockingly lacking. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
Related LogsTheme SongNone |
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Josie's is not the only place Matt Murdock goes to after a tough day of work. It's not the only place the crew congregates though so often it is… the convenient place. It's just so easy to wander around the corner from the Law Offices of Nelson and Murdock and take that turn into the bar. And sure their fries often have been sitting in the kitchen all day. And sure their burgers often have a crust on them. But that's not entirely bad.
But now and again, every now and then, Matt will get the gumption and the urge to make the cross-town trip to travel to Luke's. Not necessarily for the booze, which is usually pretty decent. But the cooking is surprisingly well done as well.
Though sure takes a little while. But good things are worth a wait.
So it's not with much surprise when the door jangles a bit as it's opened and through it walks a man in a business suit and with a white and red cane. Reflective lenses hide his eyes as he advances into the room, smiling as he takes in the scent of the kitchen. His cane taps lightly upon the ground as he makes his way over to the bar, rests a hand upon the seat of one of the stools, then settles on up as he folds his cane.
What might come as a surprise however is that the place, or more accurately the food, smells different. The place seems to be doing okay for whatever changes have occured since it's neither empty nor busy, but living right in that happy medium. "pinkie!" a voice comes echoing out from the back, grumpy and with the tell tale sound of an old man grouching about something, "where'd my fucking pepper grinder get put!?"
There's a long pause. "pinkie!" the voice is muffled slightly by the swinging doors.
Doors that then open suddenly, "Pinkie, by Bor's great swinging cod if you-" he stops talking and tilts his head to the side, listening to the room, "Dammit." he mutters to himself, no picking up on the uniqueness that is Anya's exsistence. "Now I'll never find it."
Like the lawyer, this man wears mirrored shades and dresses well, though he's clearly been at some work for awhile. A bit like a hipster, he has slightly floppy hair, a trimmed beard, and dresses in a monochromatic fashion, blacks, whites, and grays. Today it's a gray button down and black slacks under a black apron, which is spattered with varied and sundry ingrediants and spiced. He slaps a towel across his palm, "Double dammit."
Matt remains in his place, slipping that cane into the pocket of his jacket. He smiles the open smile of the unrushed and patient as he settles his hands on the bartop, one uncurling gently to lightly tap around and then find the bowl of peanuts nearby. A handful are taken and he starts to chew on one.
"Evening," His voice lifts as he offers that greeting and then waits patiently. Though he does tilt his head slightly to the side with a hint of curiousity.
He adds with that same smile, "I'd offer to help but don't think I'd be much use."
Hod sort of turns in that direction and appears to look off over Matt's left shoulder a bit, "Oh? You shit in the kitchen or something?" he asks curiously as he tosses the towel over a shoulder. He makes his way with confidence, but slowly, down the bar, one hand trailing along the wood's edge, fingertips lightly. "Or this more of a thing where you try to be clever?" he asks curiously, "Cause at this point, gotta say, you're gonna have to be super clever to slip one in I havn't heard before."
For an instant there's a hint of confusion on Matt's features as Hod… doesn't seem to be making sense. But then those enhanced senses give him a small hint, as he listens to the powerful heartbeat of the Asgardian, can feel the slight changes in air pressure with how the man moves, and can faintly tell that the way he turns his head…
He isn't following any sight lines nor paying attention to movement. His lips part with the revelation, but then he smiles slightly since… how to voice this realization.
At first a variety of clever rejoinders present themselves and while each has their appeal… they don't exactly build up a good rapport. Particularly with someone who might be handling your food in the neat future. So he settles on feigned innocence and modesty.
"Oh sorry, forgive me. I wasn't meaning anything negative. I'm just… not able to see. I'm afraid."
Hod clearly doesn't represent as human, his body simply isn't, so it runs slightly differently. Heart beat is wrong, breathing is wrong, but at the same time, he's doesn't sound like anyone else in his family would. He's more human then them, and less human then humans, exsisting somewhere in a very gray faded area between the two species. But for all that, some things can't be hidden. His clothes for instance, for all their 'hipster' stylings, are extremely well made, hand tailored, natural fibers, but without powerful dyes or additives. They're made to last a very long time, they're made to fit a body not prone to changing, and they're made not to look like what they are, to look plain and unassuming. Like him, they are two things at once.
His head tilts slightly to one side and he pauses for a moment, contemplating, "Well, it's not /that/ clever. I have heard that one before, but in your defense it's been awhile. Still, that being said, feel like you're selling yourself short. I'm the cook here and between the pair of us we don't share a single functioning eyeball. Get your game together rookie, you're making us look bad. I suggest not starting to learn to cook with the spicey foods, they fuck up your-" he waves a hand at the front of his face, "takes awhile to adjust to. French is a good place to start. The sweeter side of China or Japan. Greece."
"That's a good idea, though I already know I'm sorta rubbish in the kitchen." Matt offers that gamely enough, grinning a little at Hod. He's met Asgardians before. Rarely, albeit. But still has some small frame of comparison to perhaps recognize at the least the otherworldliness of the man. That having been said it's always best to wait to take the personal measure through experience.
"Let me know when you're set. Or do you have someone helping you today?" He tilts his head to the side curiously, senses extending. He didn't hear others in the nearby vicinity though wait… perhaps a few.
Hod makes a face that the other guy can't see so maybe he didn't make it at all? "Everyone's good in the kitchen if they wanna be. Trick is knowing what you're good /at/. I'm betting you're more of a uh…" he considers, "making the coffee guy. Make a solid K cup doncha?" he nods sagely as if that were a skill hard won through years of effort. He comes to a stop opposite Matt, leaning against the bar backing a little and crossing his arms over his chest, not quiet looking at the man across from him.
"She seems to have up and fucked off, which she does from time to time. Kids these days, flighty, no sense of stick-to-it, always off of one thing and on to the next, no patience or ability to be still." plus she's a costumed hero or whatever, but Hod tries not to judge. "Mostly set. Took the whole week to get the kitchen set up, now it's just a matter of commiting the entire thing to a permnant place in my brain, make it all muscle memory." Matt, presumably, knows what Hod's talking about, making a place your own and then keeping it that way is important, especially when one works with sharp knives a lot.
A small laugh comes from his customer, more a controlled exhale that's jovial. But he says, "Well, sometimes. Though even odds that it'll be coffee or hot cocoa." Since Foggy keeps the containers right next to each other, he'll sometimes make that little bit of a 'mistake.'
Matt tilts his head slightly, seemingly looking past Hod though only noticeable if there were others there to observe them. But then as Hod speaks ill of the help he nods and lends his own commentary, "Millennials." As if that was enough of an answer.
"That's great that you can do that. I'm impressed." He smiles as he nods toward Hod.
Hod shrugs, "Got lots of practice. Cut a lot of fingers, fucked up a lot of roasts, but you put in the time, learn the craft, you can do almost anything." he reaches behind him and trails his fingers alond the bottles on the wall there, tracing their outlines before finding one that suits him and pulls it down. Then he starts patting down beneath the bar and checking random glasses until finding an appropriate tumbler. Into this goes a chunk of ice, then a /generous/ splash of the bottle's contents, poured after fingers trace the glasses rim. Once done, the bottle is set aside, and he swirls the glass, making those delightful little clinking noises, "What other hobbies was I gonna take up? Reading?" he quips with a snort.
Certainly easy to get lots of practice when one is immortal. But that thought is perhaps uncharitable but does cause Matt's smile to twitch a little. Amusement is clear on his features though hidden from Hod, but it can be heard in his voice, in the warmth of regard as he offers in reply, "Well, I know Braille is difficult to get a hang of, but it does sort of open the world to you if you can get some facility with it."
It's then that he adds, "It helped me become a lawyer, though they say anyone can become one these days if you're stubborn enough."
At that he extends a hand forward, "My name is Matt Murdock, by the way." He reaches out with the other and perhaps makes a semblance of trying to find Hod's should the offer to return the shake be made.
Hod makes a face, "Yeah, I picked up braille awhile ago, still hard to snag up a copy of something on a whim that way. Gotta invest time and effort into it that I can spend doing something meaningful. Wait. Lawyer? Yeah, stubborn isn't what I heard you had to be become a lawyer. Lots of other words I've heard. Mostly the sort one doesnt' say in polite company." he grins over the rim of his glass.
Hod's senses are sharp, sharper then a humans though clearly not /this/ human's, but he doesn't let it be known, keeping it to himself, so he lets Matt paw the air a bit without a responce, "Holden." he offers as a name in responce, "Nice to meet a fellow cripple. Imagine the stares we're getting right now, irony lost on the lot of them."
"I've got some things you could borrow?" Matt offers in the way of perhaps helping another get some insight into at least his own particular interest in literature. He smiles then at the comments about being a lawyer and nods a few times, though realizing he's nodding to another blind man. Which makes him smile as he's witnessed other peoples' chagrin for doing such to him before.
"All true for the most part. I mean I'm generally a nice guy but give me half a chance and I'll embezzle the heck out of you." Okay, he won't. But still.
"Holden, glad to meet you." The hand shake is professional when they find each others' hands and he double clasps with his other as if making sure he's got the right guy.
"I was hoping to get some dinner and maybe a beer. Is Luke around?"
Hod returns the shake, his hand is calloused and hard, sinew and bone and scars, unlike his kin who tend towards hands that don't scar or callouse and have more muscle then sinew, "And this is why I generally avoid lawyers. I like my money where I have it, in the hands of dishonest bankers." he returns to leaning against the back of the bar, drink to his lips sipping regularly and without shame about how quickly he's making it vanish.
"He is not, fucked off to what I can only imagine is 'take a lady to coffee'." he says, his tone suggesting air quotes that he doesn't physically do. "What's your poison though, pretty sure I can muddle through and find it for you. I'm figuring out the taps. Food though I can /definately/ do."
"For a beer, I'll take the luck of the draw." Whatever he first puts a mug under, that'll work. Then he reaches a hand out as if checking for something, but finds it's not there. So instead he hmms to himself, clears his throat… then asks, "And maybe a burger and fries?" That said he nods again, then mildly chuckles at himself for doing so.
"If it's not too much work. I'm not in a rush so take your time." Just in case he's still getting acclimated to the bar and the kitchen.
Hod nods his head and turns to snag up a mug, on his third try, and then feels his way down the bar to the taps. He works his way through the collection of stems there until finding the right one, which is chosen on the Asgardian version of eeny meeny miny moe, and pulls the lever until he can feel the weight of the beer is just about right. He doesn't compensate in time and a bit of the head pours down the side of the mug, splattering on the floor. Hod doesn't seem to care, and he soon sets it down more or less in front of Matt, "So you want the Shitty Nachos and a quarter rack of ribs. Gotcha." he says, turning to head back towards the kitchen doors, either not having heard teh order or intentionally changing it on Matt without asking.
"No wait, Ribs might…" But it's too late, Hod's already gone. Matt takes a deep breath and sighs a little to himself. But it's a sigh that's coupled with a smile as he shakes his head and turns it slightly, 'listening' to the efforts of the Asgardian in the kitchen. Ribs. Now he's going to have to get this suit dry-cleaned.
Damn.