Supply Run

January 21, 2016:

Peter needs to restock and picks the same bar that Matt likes to drink in.

Josie's Bar in Hell's Kitchen




Mood Music: [* ]

Fade In…

It's been a while since Hell's Kitchen lived up to its name. But there's still remnants of a previous decade. Josie's bar is one such; a hole in the wall that didn't change with the times so much as let them flow around it. Which means it's perfect for Peter. He steps in, glancing around and taking in the atmosphere. Looking for a specific person. A specific type of person.

It's not too much longer that a man in a nice charcoal suit and dark glasses enters. Despite his dress being way out of sync with the others, he's greeted warmly with a "Matt!" by several of the patrons, including the bartender Missy. He takes a seat at the far end of the bar, orders a simple beer (some watery domestic) and loosens his crimson tie.

Peter looks over when someone else walks in, a longer look given the clothes but he's not the one he's looking for. No, that one is at a far table in the back and Peter walks over to sit at his table without asking for an invitation.

It's not meant to be rude, and not meant to pry. At least not for normal law abiding citizens. But there's a reason for Matt's often visits to this bar and it's not for the beer or for the girl, Jasmine, who has been trying to get a date with Matt since he came back to the neighborhood. The reason why Matt is here is to eavesdrop. Josie's also happens to be a cesspool meeting ground for many of the bacteria who call this part of town home.

And, so Matt listens. Just as he listens to all of the other conversation going on.

"I'm not looking for company." the guy says. "I'm not here to give you any." Peter answers, quietly enough it's unlikely anyone without superhearing would hear. "I want oxy." The dealer is pretty good at spotting a cop and Peter's about as far from cop as you can get. "It'll cost you." "I just gave you enough to buy all the oxy you have so give it over." He didn't of course but the dealer digs around and passes over two pill bottls. "Now go home and forget this ever happened." Peter tells the man who promptly stands up and heads for the exit.

Matt listens intently, but is slightly distracted by the odor of the man sitting four spaces to the left and by the lingering taste of the light beer. A drug deal of course strikes his interest—but it's the oddness of the directive that Peter makes to the dealer that truly intrigues him.

Now go home and forget this ever happened.

Not a weird thing in and of itself, but it seems like an odd thing to say at that moment in that moment. Matt continues listening, hoping to pick up more. He reaches into his pocket to grab at his cell phone.

Putting one bottle in his jacket, Peter opens the second and swallows one pill, washing it down with whatever was in the dealer's glass. The second bottle joins the first and he puts his elbows on the table to rest his head in his hands.

"You alright?" Matt says as he appears from behind Peter. He's pretty lithe for a blind guy, and all that. Much like Peter didn't really ask to sit next to the dealer, Matt doesn't bother asking to have a seat. His voice is low both in volume and in tone.

Matt spends a lot of time working with the youth from St. Agnes. Many of those kids, young men mostly, have had troubles with drugs. Maybe this guy is just a little lost.

There's no threat in the man's surface thoughts so Peter doesn't bother going deeper. That kinda negates the point of the Oxy. "Just a headache." he answers, glancing up briefly but then putting his head back down and rubbing it. "You walked into the wrong bar, dude. The Ritz is down a few blocks." Not that there's an actual bar called the Ritz or that he didn't hear people greet the guy by name.

Matt chuckles a bit and tilts his head. "Well, I'm sure that's a nice place down there, but this is the place my father used to come to. In truth, I've been coming here since I was in the fourth grade. Didn't start drinking until a little later, though."

"Should never start drinking till the sixth grade." Peter agrees and builds a shield around his mind to block out the thoughts. He's good at it. Very good. He just sucks at staying shielded for any length of time. "Sounds like a great idea though." he says and straightens up to call to the bartender "A double whiskey and whatever he's having."

"Coors Light," Matt says with something between a grin and a grimace. It's what his dad used to drink, but definitely not the Ritz, that much is for sure. After the bartender leaves he readjusts himself in his seat, and though he cannot see, he seems to look right at Peter. "I should probably cut straight to it. I'm sure you've heard it a thousand times in the past, but those things will kill you. And if they don't, the price alone will cause you to turn to heroin, and then…" Matt shrugs his shoulders, "Then that will kill you."

Coors Light? Peter's opinion of the man just plummeted. The speech doesn't do much to counter it either. "Social worker?" he asks, rolling his eyes a bit. "Look, thanks. I appreciate the concern and all but I'm fine. I'm not taking them recreationally and that's where people get into trouble. So thanks again and just drop it."

"Worse," Matt says with a smile. "Lawyer." The man in the grey suit swallows with some degree of difficulty before folding his arms across his chest. He could push; mention that he's pretty sure that Peter did not seem to pay for what he said he did. Of course, how would Matt know that?

"Fair enough." Better to stay quiet.

"Lawyer? All your clients here?" Peter asks dryly. "Well, leave me a card. Maybe I'll need one some day." Unlikely but who knows. "Or do you do real estate or something boring like that?"

"Criminal," Matt says with a chuckle. "And only a few of these are my clients. I only represent innocent people." A card is pulled out of his pocket and slid over across to Peter. "Matt Murdock."

Criminal. No surprise. No lawyer with money would be caught dead here and obviously this one doesn't defend mafia bosses or Wall Street brokers. "Isn't everyone?" Peter asks rhetorically and slips the card into his jacket. "Peter." No last name given.

At least until the trial," Matt responds. "It's nice to meet you Peter. What kind of work do you do?" he asks, not sure of wanting to offend the young man, but Matt is also trying to be cordial and conversational.

"I wander." Peter answers, giving a small shrug he assumes the guy can't see. "New to the city and still learning my way around." When the bartender delivers their drinks, he pulls out a roll of bills and peels off a twenty to give him, telling him to keep the change. "To being innocent." he toasts.

"For as long as the good Lord keeps us that way," Matt says as he reaches the glass up in the young man's general direction. "It's a wonderful place, this town. Some people love the Kitchen, others can't stand it. The great part about Manhattan is there's something for everyone."

Peter clinks his glass against Matt's and downs half of it in one go. "The only one who can do that is you." he retorts then takes a smaller sip. "Yeah, it does seem okay. Cold though."

"You get used to it," Matt says, and almost immediately contradicts himself. "If you can get past the wind whipping in between the buildings." He takes a swig from his beer and sets it on the table, "The winter won't last long. You from somewhere warm?"

"Yeah." Peter answers and leaves it at that. "I'd have thought the subways would be warmer. Least they aren't as windy. And there are musicians which is cool."

"Subways?" Matt says with a raised eyebrow. "You're not sleeping in the subways, are you?" His face frowns a bit, as he didn't quite think the young man had that distinct homeless odor.

"Not any more." Peter couldn't take it for more than a day before he switched to hotels. Not as safe but oh so much more comfortable. "I don't know how anyone manages it. Better than the street I guess."

"If it ever gets to that point again, feel free to go to St. Agnes on 43rd. You can drop my name to Father John and he can get you a warm bed and a meal," Matt says. Faintly, he adds, "I'm not sure how anyone manages it either."

"No, I'm good thanks." Peter assures Matt and the wad of money he pulled out should testify to that. "It was just when I first arrived. I've met some people since and am staying with them."

Matt nods soberly. No matter how he tries to get the guy to open up, it's not working. Maybe that's by design, by happenstance, or for the best. He's not that sure. Murdock takes another long pull from his beer and sets it on his table. "I'd better head out. Early morning of figuring out how to show a jury that a guy from my block is innocent. Peter, it was nice meeting you."

"Take it easy Matt." Peter pauses a moment then asks "You need a hand getting home? Obviously you do it often but… Icy, you know."

"I appreciate it, but I'll be fine. Been coming here for years." Matt grins, "Be sure to say hi the next time you come in here."

Nodding, Peter says "I will." He might even come back just for that. Who knows.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 License