devil gonna follow me e'er I go

[hasnobullets]

By all rights I should be sleeping. Confusion's given away to exhaustion by the time Peter's through explaining what Mr. Saverin wasn't equipped to, though even he has no real answers for where we are or why we're here. He's distracted as he paints the story of this place in broad, haphazard strokes. His expected jokes are forced. His responses are

Comments

[curiously_cora]

"Oh, I know. He's my trigonometry teacher. And I'm um... enthusiastic." Coraline said cheerily as she bounced into the room. Her rubber wellington boots squeaked and creaked indicating where she was, as she moved about the room noisily. Coraline dumped her laundry into the washing machine and hummed a cautious note before she just poured a whole load of washing powder into the machine. She assumed that would be enough, it was probably far too much. Coraline slammed the door and bounded towards the man smiling. "Okay, that's the laundry done. I think. So, what do you need help with? Oh, is the box being mean?"

[hasnobullets]

A child. He sent me a child. Were it not for the fact that I'm used to him taking off mid-conversation, I'd wonder if this wasn't deliberate on his part. As it is, wariness overtakes weariness. Beyond saving them, I don't have a lot of experience with children, and what little I have in more mundane circumstances hasn't particularly promising. I used to entertain the notion of settling down to start a family, but that was a long time ago. Plans change. Mine did when Karen asked me never to quit. The way Peter tells it, though, that choice might no longer be up to me.

But this isn't about Karen. (Not everything is about Karen, no matter what Milla or Ben or Foggy or anyone else chooses to believe.) This is about the little tornado of an English girl who's been asked to lend me a hand. (The squeaking of her boots alone would've driven me up the wall if my hearing was still heightened.) Wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, I shove one hand into the depths of the box, and pull out what I determine is a shirt. One that feels

[curiously_cora]

Coraline stared at the man, confused for a moment before she made a soft oh. Well, that would explain why Mister Peter wanted someone to help but even still grown ups, even cool ones, made stupid assumptions.

"Well, do you think you need help? Because I can help if you want, I'm good at finding things and the box likes me." Coraline said, frowning at that thought. Coraline clearly didn't like the box, she put up with it but she didn't like it. It reminded her far too much of the Other Mother and the room she'd made for Coraline. "Just not that shirt. It's ugly. Do you like hawaiian shirts? Because there's a whole load of them in there right now and some really ugly purple short-shorts."

[hasnobullets]

I've never actually seen them myself, for obvious reasons, but the Hulk's purple stretch pants are an ongoing joke in the superhero community. The association alone is enough for me to shake my head. Not that I'd wear purple short-shorts anyway, mind you. My days of masquerading as Mike Murdock are long behind me. Which means I'll pass on the offer of Hawaiian shirts. On the other hand, I just want something dry to crash in for a few hours. I frown.

"I'm not a fan," I reply, sifting through the box. I pull out a polyester shirt, and hold it up to my chest. "But beggars can't be choosers. Does this look like it'll fit?"

[curiously_cora]

"It does but hang on a second," Coraline knelt beside the box, tucking her feet underneath her as she pushed her hand into the box. Coraline pulled out several hideous green and purple shirts before she pulled out a dark red cotton shirt. "I told you it liked me. Here, this looks like it fits and it's dark blue and it's not ugly."

Coraline wasn't quite sure how she should hand it to him but she put it close to his hand. Coraline brushed the fabric against him.

"I'm Coraline by the way. Coraline Carter. Sorry, I was being rude." Coraline said making an um noise as she pulled out more hideous shirts and short-shorts looking for something decent. "Do you need trousers? Jeans? Shorts?"

[hasnobullets]

"Matt Murdock, thank you," I reply, scaring up a smile as I take the offered shirt. As far as descriptors go, 'dark blue' and 'not ugly' are pretty vague, but it feels comfortable enough, and that works for my purposes. At least she's calmed down, some. If she hadn't, I might have just cut my losses, and stood in the sun for a while. I'm not an impatient man, but it's been a very long day, and entertaining children isn't high on my list of priorities.

"Whatever's simplest. Jeans are fine."

[curiously_cora]

"Are you new? To the island, I mean. Where are you from?" Coraline asked curiously. Coraline pulled out a couple of pairs of jeans looking at the man before discarding too short ones and far too big ones before she finally found a pair that looked like they would fit. Sort of. "Sorry, I did say I ask a lot of questions. I try not to but then they sort of ask themselves."

[hasnobullets]

She starts to babble, and I feel a headache start in at my temples. As an attorney and vigilante both, I prefer asking the questions than being asked. I let out a sigh, making a note to have a word with Peter whenever we bump into each other again. Given my relative unfamiliarity with this island, he'll probably find me before I find him. Without my heightened senses, tracking is a near impossibility.

"I've noticed."