catholicisms | open post.

[ she hates this part. the people part. the needing to nurturing and act like a goddamn human being part. she curses in her mind, looks up at the ceiling as if she's going to take this up with whatever higher power might be listening.

the trouble with people asking for numbers is that they can find out if you are who you say you are pretty easily. ]

Yeah. Good idea. [ agreement buys her time to think, at least. ] Let me give you my personal number so you don't have to go through the station. [ she's not at all bothered by how easy this is, in part because she's just so distracted by wanting to get out of comforting him over his neighbor's death-by-bad-choices. ] I guess a pen won't do it. Do you have ... ? [ she waves her hand as if to fill in the gap, huffing when she realizes even the gesture is insufficient. ]

( he's troubled by the information, yes, he can't help it. not as a neighbor, but as someone looking for her. he can't tell if they're on the same track or not, that she's looking for the same reasons he is, yet she certainly knew more than he did.

there was no glimmer of a lie in her slip that she was probably dead.

Matt is silent, then nods. he pulls out his phone to unlock it, and hands it to her. there's not much to be found on it, and why would there be? he's blind, remember. ) I'll need a name, too. I have to know it, so I can dictate the call. ( technically true, as far as the adaptive features on his phone are concerned. ) Unless your name actually is NYPD.

[ she looks at him, then at the phone. she huffs as she snatches it out of his hand and starts plugging the number in.

it's a real pain, giving a damn. ]

Jessica.

[ does it matter that an officer of the law would have introduced themselves as officer or detective and used their last name? not to jessica. she's bothered at having to fuss with this in the first place, and the chances of this guy actually being able to make her life difficult with the nypd are low.

after all, it's not like he can describe her. ]

You live with anyone else?

( she's got him there. he can't really identify her as anything other than a little gruff, and scented with whiskey. that could be half of Hell's Kitchen, honestly. his wonder nose isn't quite talented enough to instantly recognize someone, and thank god for that, but even if it could there'd be no way to use it against her without giving too much away.

does he live alone? yes, he does, a handful of blocks south of here at that, but it isn't a lie when he nods. )

Just me. ( there's a tilt of a question at the end of that sentence, like he wants to know why she's asking without asking properly. )

If you have family in the city, I'd stay with them for a while until this gets cleaned up.

[ she hands the phone back to him with her number saved. there's a bit of awkward fumbling when she closes his hand around it — too much help. she's not used to dealing with the blind. it gives a little bit more info, at least. leather jacket. fingerless wool gloves.

and she pulls her hands back quickly. this caring thing makes her jittery. ]

I gotta go.

( yes, it is a bit more help than he needs. his nerve endings still work just fine, shockingly, considering the damage he takes on with little thought. it's a rarity that he's not wearing some evidence of that when she takes his hand — bruised knuckles would look awfully out of place on a blind man.

when she's closer he picks up on a few more details, and certainly things she might have preferred to hide. the smell of alcohol on her breath, maybe even still on her somewhere. the flutter of a heartbeat that is clearly quite nervous. for being near him? for what she thinks happened? something else?

she pulls her hand back suddenly, and without a better reason to try and convince her to talk more, Matt nods. ) If you think that's best, ( he reasons slowly, though her attempts to protect him aren't going to go anywhere. in fact they only make him more resolved to run into danger. ) I'll let you know if I hear anything else.

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