"I don't even know you," Matt retorts, sounding more frustrated than exasperated. It isn't even meant to be a personal insult, Matt just can't figure out who this is and what he wants on top of why Matt's here, how he ended up here, and what he's going to do now.
He at least knows Fisk. And he knows the Hand. And for once he doesn't know which is the worse to work for. They're both crazy in their own way. Cunning. Unscrupulous.
"Why would I need to be kept in check? I'm helping my city. Protecting others - from people like you." He gets to his feet, slow, calculating angles and distances, spaces, soft parts of tissue and flesh that stretch and strain in between the bones.
When he thinks he's got a good angle to trap Lester against the couch, Matt lunges for it. There's no justice here. No trials, no juries, no defences, no bails. Only violent men left to their violent whims. And he's blinded by his own self-righteousness to see how futile this ensuing punch up is going to be. All it's going to do is make him feel worse about Elektra, about himself.
no subject
He at least knows Fisk. And he knows the Hand. And for once he doesn't know which is the worse to work for. They're both crazy in their own way. Cunning. Unscrupulous.
"Why would I need to be kept in check? I'm helping my city. Protecting others - from people like you." He gets to his feet, slow, calculating angles and distances, spaces, soft parts of tissue and flesh that stretch and strain in between the bones.
When he thinks he's got a good angle to trap Lester against the couch, Matt lunges for it. There's no justice here. No trials, no juries, no defences, no bails. Only violent men left to their violent whims. And he's blinded by his own self-righteousness to see how futile this ensuing punch up is going to be. All it's going to do is make him feel worse about Elektra, about himself.