catholicisms | open post.

“You’ve ensured his tolerance level for nonsense is pretty high,” Karen reminds him with a grin. Mostly what she gets from Foggy are treaties to be careful when she’s haring off after her latest story. Which is fair. She knows she throws herself in headfirst. It’s why she’s hear.

She climbs off of Matt as he sits up, watching with a fond look as he ruffles his hair up. It makes him look a little bit like a cockatoo. Part of her is tempted to smooth it down for him, but she’s not entirely sure what to do with that impulse other than sit on it.

There’s a thoughtful moment of silence as she looks across the mat at him, shifting so she’s sitting with her legs stretched out in front of her. She appreciates him taking the time to help her, show her the moves one at a time. She is absolutely not in a rush. But sometimes she wonders if he realizes she’s not as breakable as he might think. “Well, you’re definitely the most polite person I’ve ever knocked to the floor,” she says.

She's probably right — he considers her as far more fragile than she's ever considered herself. He doesn't want this process to end up hurting her and he certainly doesn't want to be the one doing the hurting. That said, mostly it's a bared teeth determination to teach the opposite of how he was taught. Stick might have gotten results, but he'd also been training a blind child for a magical war. Results are important, but they didn't need to be beaten in either.

It's possible that both of them are too far of an extreme. Karen is a little too confident in how much pain she's prepared to take. Matt is too reluctant to ever subject her to any, despite the fact it's a part of her job and just her life, especially considering her connection to him.

"I'll remember to be more belligerent next time." Matt says with a muster of a laugh. "Speaking of a next time, we might want to call it a night. You might not realize it now, but I'll bet you'll be sore in the morning."

Karen’s mouth curls into a smile when he says he’ll be more belligerent next time. “You won’t,” she answers in good humor. It is nice that he’s so determined to do this the right way. They both have work to do: her on managing her expectations, him on recognizing that he’s not going to be the one to break her.

“I’ve got Aleve in my purse,” she informs him. It’s a staple: literally chasing down a story, a surprise kidnapping, uncomfortable shoes, breaking up a fight. She never knows what life is going to throw her. She’s not sure she would want it to be predictable.

Before getting up, she leans forward into a stretch, holding onto her toes. It’s quiet for a moment as she mulls over what she wants to say. “My life has been like this for a long time, Matt. This is a long overdue lesson.” Her head tips, and there’s a hint of amusement back in her voice when she continues, “target shooting was a good start, though.”

He has absolute capacity for belligerence. This is the guy who told someone he "doesn't speak asshole", for example. That said, Karen probably has his number that he won't use his talent for arguing against her. Usually when they are at odds with each other he just agrees with her he's terrible, it makes him so annoying to yell at!!! For Matt, it comes down to the fact he spends enough of his time fighting and arguing. The last people on the planet he wants to argue with are his friends.

And honestly, his friends are usually right when they accuse him of being terrible.

Karen stretches, Matthew just leans back into the dusty mats in a rare moment of laziness. Stretching is the better call, though Matt is rather notorious for rarely going for the better call. "I know," he muses, a slight hint of reluctance in his tone. It's fighting back the automatic impulse to try and remind her that she doesn't have to do all this, and that she doesn't have to run straight into danger, even if it's always for a good reason. He realizes how hypocritical that reaction is, but he can't stop feeling it, as much as he tries.

"We'll keep working. And you know you can call me if you're worried about a situation going south." How many times has he called her when a situation might go south? No comment. "I can't help on sharpshooting, I'm afraid." His accuracy is not something he could easily teach her — and he's never stopped to see if it translated to firing a gun, either. Matt doesn't want to know.

It’s true, he is extremely annoying to yell at. He has an unerring knack for looking like the world’s saddest puppy. It really has a way of taking the wind out of her sails. Which isn’t to say that she hasn’t been game for trying a time or two. Karen’s stubborn in her own way. If something needs saying, she’ll say it.

“I know I can,” she answers. She just doesn’t want to be the person that brings other people running to fight her fights for her. She’s come a long way from the angry kid moored out in rural Vermont with a chip on her shoulder and a crack in her heart. All she wants is the opportunity to do some good with all that dogged determination she has inside of her.

Her mouth twists into a little smile at his comment about sharpshooting. “I’ve got that covered,” she promises. “I’ve been shooting targets since I was a teenager. I wouldn’t carry my gun around if I didn’t know how to use it.” Or if she wasn’t prepared to use it in a tight spot. That’s a good way to get herself shot instead.

She's been game. He remembers. He remembers her being pretty on point in those situations, too. He has to say he's glad that they haven't argued as much recently in the relative peace they've been trying to rebuild between them. Matt hates arguing with Karen as much as he hates arguing with Foggy. It's not that he can't see their points, it's just that sometimes it's ... beyond him to agree with them. They might not like what he does and he doesn't expect them to. Even knowing how hard it is on them he can't quite stop. He has to do something, even if that something is on the wrong side of the law sometimes.

One might be right in arguing it's an unhealthy addiction and it's one that is likely to get him killed one day. Even knowing that, Matt can't quite manage to stop.

Is it really having someone fight her battles for her if she's also present at the battle? More like bringing an ally than sicking Daredevil on her problems. He'd like her to be more willing to accept his help, though considering he's never asked her along for backup, it's not as if he doesn't understand the perspective.

"I'll keep that in mind if I need some sharpshooting." Matt only goes for nonlethal violence, though that's not to say that someone who knew their way around a handgun wouldn't be useful. Arguably he could just try and coerce Frank into caring, but more than likely he just won't call anyone, ever. This is Matt we're talking about.

“You won’t,” Karen answers with a smile. Neither of them want him calling her if he needs someone with a gun on his side. She doesn’t particularly want to hunt down criminals, and she does her best to not encourage Frank or Matt to keep at it. Not that either of them listen, but she at least says her piece. The gun’s for self defense. She uses it when she needs it.

She finishes her stretch and leans back, resting her palms on the mat as she watches him. “You know, when you say I can call if I’m worried, or if I need something...this is always what I’ve needed. You to trust that I know what I’m doing and to support me in doing it.”

It's a little bit of a tall ask, given her mixed feelings about his own particular brand of derring do. But despite the dangers of vigilantism and her general sense of disapproval, she's still not going to turn her back on him when he needs her.

Yeah. He probably won't. She's got him there. Matt isn't much for partners in his nightlife, especially since the last time he'd accepted one, she'd been killed on a rooftop. He doesn't want that for Karen, and for all his willingness to take a hit or twenty, it really doesn't extend to putting Karen in the same kind of danger. He's teaching her how to defend herself, but Matt isn't planning on grooming her into being the blonder version of Daredevil. It's an uncomfortable reality between them, because he knows she doesn't love the danger he puts himself in, that she would much rather he wouldn't risk himself or at least, risk himself alone.

They both have some uncomfortable grappling with the other walking headfirst into danger, hating it and knowing it's for good reason at the same time. It's not the best thing to have in common, though as awkward as their rekindled friendship can be, he wouldn't change it. For all its flaws.

"My dad used to say, it's not that I don't trust you. It's that I don't trust anyone else in this god forsaken town." There's a sad quirk of a smile that always comes from referencing his father. He finally sits up properly, instead of lazing on the mats in a sweaty heap. It seems a more proper posture for serious conversation. "I know what it's like, to need to fight back in any way you can. I'm not sure I have it in me to like it, but I get it." If she ever decides to retire to the Hamptons, though, he's not going to argue too hard about it.

It’s a good thing he doesn’t want to train her up to be a blonder Daredevil, because she absolutely does not want that either. But she’ll be happy to be better prepared, when a situation inevitably turns south. They have a way of doing that. And she can’t fathom turning her back on what she can do to help any more than he can. The eternal stalemate.

It always catches her attention when he talks about his dad. She can still feel the wound of it, in the way that those hurts from losing your family never really go away. Something she’s uncomfortably familiar with. They probably have more in common than either of them are prepared to admit, even on a good day.

“I could say the same to you,” she answers, finally climbing to her feet. “Maybe we both need to worry more about supporting each other when we can and less about talking each other off of ledges.” Her mouth quirks in a quick little half smile. “Literally, in your case.”

She'd look great in the horns, it's a shame she's turning down that legacy... but let's be real it'd be over his dead body. His heart would probably give out in the stress. He's already got a hard time with the investigative journalism, who knew that was such a dangerous occupation!!! Why can't she be investigating the Puppy Bowl, or what sort of card games are played by old people in Central Park?

It's an old wound. It's been decades now. Still, even though he's gotten to the point he can talk about his father without choking up or blowing up (both common problems when he was a kid), it doesn't mean it's entirely healed. Knowing Matt, it probably never will, but it's progress to be able to talk about it. And if she ever feels like talking about her losses... well, he's got her back on that, too. Not just learning karate.

It really cements her point that she occasionally has to talk him down from whatever position he's parkoured to when he kips up to his feet instead of just standing up like a normal person. He's a complete showoff. "Yeah, maybe." Did he really just concede a point? Better go get some lottery tickets, Karen, a blue moon must be turning. Though Karen is classically gifted in making Matt concede points, being about the only other person in his life about as stubborn as he is.

Karen knows she’s a tough nut to crack when it comes to her past. It’s just that there’s no one thread she can pull without unraveling it all. The diner, her family, the crash – it’s all forever caught up in knots in her head. Maybe one day she’ll be able to tease it out. Maybe one day her father will be capable of looking her in the eye. And maybe Matt will hang up the horns.

In short: it’s a whole lot of things that would probably be for the best, but are wildly unlikely to come to pass.

There’s an amused look on her face as she watches the way he gets to his feet. And then he answers her and her brow lifts in interest. Her hands rest on her lips. “Let the record show that the counsel just ceded a point to his very smart colleague.”

Sharing sad pasts has to be a part of their social link, at some point. They will get there, one piece at a time. Considering Matt will talk about his father but not how he died for refusing to throw a fight in his son's honor, he's got some room to grow on that front. They both have past secrets they're slow to share, though it's a part of them whether they talk about it or not. Sooner or later the past has a tendency to claw its way to the surface, wanted or not.

"Duly noted," Matt says dryly, though there's a twist at the corner of his mouth that indicates a smile that he refuses to let creep any further than a restrained smirk. Yeah, he earned that one, and it was pretty funny, but his pride refuses to allow him to admit it openly. "Come on, let's get out of here, very smart colleague." They need to hit the showers, and maybe scare up some dinner. Maybe not in that order.

They have more in common than they know or will admit - to each other, and probably even to themselves. But it's part of the reason that their friendship endures despite all their quarreling and ideological differences.

"I promise I won't gloat. Much," she promises with a grin.

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wrap here possibly? ?

perfect! /scene