After Tony walked away, Matt took a deep breath and slid his sunglasses back on. He closed his eyes behind them, for a second, and tried not to think too hard about what the hell had just happened.
God, he was getting a headache. And it had very little to do with the Chanel no. 5.
He squared his shoulders and walked through the crowd, heading in Sally's direction. He'd heard her talking with Sam a moment ago, but couldn't be certain, not with this many people, if Sam was still there or had gone elsewhere to mingle. He hoped they'd get a chance to connect later, if not here, then on a rooftop or something sometime. If this evening had taught him anything, it was that Sam Wilson seemed like he could be a friend, maybe.
Sally was right in front of him, now. Matt aimed a friendly smile a little off to the side on purpose. Best to be a harmless blind guy and not to give himself away if she didn't already know. "Excuse me. Miss Stetins?"
Sally turned at the polite inquiry, smiling. The man in front of her, well, he was blind. Sally felt a little bad that that was the first thing she noticed, but it was. Cute was the second thing, a sort of rugged sternness behind the smile.
She looked around. Her mother was still talking to Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Stark had vanished into the crowd. "Yes," she said, "that's me, Mr. . . . ?"
"Mr. Murdock?" Sally shook his hand and blinked. Matt Murdock, continually and forever outed as the superhero Daredevil? That Matt Murdock? "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, smiling. "To what do I owe the honor?"
Sally blushed. "Well," she said after a short pause. "No. Mr. Stark and I disagree on many important issues. I am grateful to the Foundation for the honor they have given me, but, no, I am not likely to agree very much with Mr. Stark." She giggled. "Though, weird thing? He and my mom have the same first name. Let me tell you," she said, leaning in and up in a mock-conspiratorial fashion, "that's a little weird sometimes."
She glanced around. "Can I -- " No, that would be rude, she thought, reconsidering her offer to get him something. " -- would you," she said, changing her sentence mid-stream, "accompany me to the buffet? I'm just dying for a soda."
Matt nodded. "Honestly? I'm not likely to, either." Then he smiled at her comment about her mom and Tony. "Somehow," he said, "I have a feeling their name is all they have in common. And I'm sure your mom's breath is much better," he said teasingly, matching her mock-conspiritorial posture and tone.
He may have come over here with underhanded intentions--and still, in fact, had them--but to his surprise, he found that he genuinely liked her. Matt had good instincts about people, and something about Sally--her giggle? Her honesty? Something about her was endearing, and also oddly familiar, as if she reminded him of someone he liked a great deal.
"I'd love to," he said, shifting his cane from his right hand to his left. He reached out with his right hand, intending to take her arm if she was okay with that, but not touching her in case she wasn't. He gave her a crooked smile. "This okay? Don't want to lose you in the crowd."
Of course he wouldn't, but she and the rest of the people here didn't need to know that.
God, he was getting a headache. And it had very little to do with the Chanel no. 5.
He squared his shoulders and walked through the crowd, heading in Sally's direction. He'd heard her talking with Sam a moment ago, but couldn't be certain, not with this many people, if Sam was still there or had gone elsewhere to mingle. He hoped they'd get a chance to connect later, if not here, then on a rooftop or something sometime. If this evening had taught him anything, it was that Sam Wilson seemed like he could be a friend, maybe.
Sally was right in front of him, now. Matt aimed a friendly smile a little off to the side on purpose. Best to be a harmless blind guy and not to give himself away if she didn't already know. "Excuse me. Miss Stetins?"
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She looked around. Her mother was still talking to Mr. Wilson, and Mr. Stark had vanished into the crowd. "Yes," she said, "that's me, Mr. . . . ?"
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He hesitated a second, then raised an eyebrow. "Sounds as if you aren't exactly Mr. Stark's biggest fan."
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She glanced around. "Can I -- " No, that would be rude, she thought, reconsidering her offer to get him something. " -- would you," she said, changing her sentence mid-stream, "accompany me to the buffet? I'm just dying for a soda."
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He may have come over here with underhanded intentions--and still, in fact, had them--but to his surprise, he found that he genuinely liked her. Matt had good instincts about people, and something about Sally--her giggle? Her honesty? Something about her was endearing, and also oddly familiar, as if she reminded him of someone he liked a great deal.
"I'd love to," he said, shifting his cane from his right hand to his left. He reached out with his right hand, intending to take her arm if she was okay with that, but not touching her in case she wasn't. He gave her a crooked smile. "This okay? Don't want to lose you in the crowd."
Of course he wouldn't, but she and the rest of the people here didn't need to know that.
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