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[ It's clear skies on Friday, thank God. Clark is at Geum-Hwa's door a minute before 8 in the evening, and while he's shed the suit jacket he wears to work, he's kept the vest on. Clark Kent, mild-mannered journalist, isn't confident enough yet to wear just the shirt without the tie-- and on that note, goodness, the popular suggestion of "unbuttoning the two top ones" would only make him all the more self-conscious.
So: vest, shirt, tie. And, of course, the glasses.
He hasn't really dressed up, if you consider the fact he wears these sorts of things regularly already. But he has a better watch on, expensive, had washed his face and brushed his teeth back home before coming over, and he's put on some nice-smelling, but ultimately mild cologne. He's as ready as he's ever going to get, maybe. It's just a shame his posture is so bad.
Clark rings the doorbell, waiting patiently, and once the door opens he offers Geum-Hwa a smile, even if both his hands are hidden behind him. ]
Good evening! [ His voice cracks. Clark clears his throat. ] Um-- I hope I haven't come too early.
So: vest, shirt, tie. And, of course, the glasses.
He hasn't really dressed up, if you consider the fact he wears these sorts of things regularly already. But he has a better watch on, expensive, had washed his face and brushed his teeth back home before coming over, and he's put on some nice-smelling, but ultimately mild cologne. He's as ready as he's ever going to get, maybe. It's just a shame his posture is so bad.
Clark rings the doorbell, waiting patiently, and once the door opens he offers Geum-Hwa a smile, even if both his hands are hidden behind him. ]
Good evening! [ His voice cracks. Clark clears his throat. ] Um-- I hope I haven't come too early.
[ the look on geum-hwa's face when he greets clark is both relieved and a little frazzled. on his face is a black mask, matching the black nitrile gloves on his hands. ]
No no, you're right on time—
[ there is movement behind him, though: a man gingerly shrugging his shirt back on as he leaves the main area of the studio apartment. geum-hwa glances over as the man nears, offers him a cordial smile and wave as he brushes past the door and clark to be on his way. ]
Same time next week, [ he calls after the man. ] And remember not to scratch it!
[ once the man is gone, geum-hwa turns back to clark, looking sheepish and apologetic. ]
Sorry, that session wound up taking longer than I thought. Is it okay if I just change really quickly? I don't want to go on our date smelling like ink.
[ he ducks away before clark can really answer, leaving the door wide open for him as he starts to pull off his mask, his gloves. it's an unspoken invitation for clark to come in, make himself comfortable. the apartment itself is fairly spacious for a studio, clean and well-kept. on one side of the room is his work station: a single bed and nearby table, and a few framed photographs of some of his designs (both sketches and actual ink on skin) hanging on a nearby wall.
geum-hwa makes a beeline for the other end of the room, though, where his bed is. there's a single wooden partition there that he ducks behind to start getting changed in a flurry of rustling fabric and zipping zippers. ]
No no, you're right on time—
[ there is movement behind him, though: a man gingerly shrugging his shirt back on as he leaves the main area of the studio apartment. geum-hwa glances over as the man nears, offers him a cordial smile and wave as he brushes past the door and clark to be on his way. ]
Same time next week, [ he calls after the man. ] And remember not to scratch it!
[ once the man is gone, geum-hwa turns back to clark, looking sheepish and apologetic. ]
Sorry, that session wound up taking longer than I thought. Is it okay if I just change really quickly? I don't want to go on our date smelling like ink.
[ he ducks away before clark can really answer, leaving the door wide open for him as he starts to pull off his mask, his gloves. it's an unspoken invitation for clark to come in, make himself comfortable. the apartment itself is fairly spacious for a studio, clean and well-kept. on one side of the room is his work station: a single bed and nearby table, and a few framed photographs of some of his designs (both sketches and actual ink on skin) hanging on a nearby wall.
geum-hwa makes a beeline for the other end of the room, though, where his bed is. there's a single wooden partition there that he ducks behind to start getting changed in a flurry of rustling fabric and zipping zippers. ]
[ Clark is surprised all throughout that whole interaction, quickly stepping to the side to try and be as out of the way as possible. ] Oh-- [ He doesn't even notice, really, that he's being spoken to until Geum-Hwa's disappeared, and when he watches his back disappear all the way in he supposes maybe it wasn't all that important to begin with.
So that must be what Geum-Hwa does for a living. Tattoos... Clark only wishes he'd caught sight of what he'd drawn on the guy. ]
Um, Geum-Hwa? [ One hand is still behind him, but the other is cupped by the side of his mouth to help with the volume. He doesn't know if his voice is going to be heard, but he's standing right in front of the open door, about a step away from entering but not quite making it in. Clark hadn't been invited, after all, and Mama Kent didn't raise a rude boy who went into people's homes without permission. ] Ah... do you want me to close the door for you? It's awfully cold...
So that must be what Geum-Hwa does for a living. Tattoos... Clark only wishes he'd caught sight of what he'd drawn on the guy. ]
Um, Geum-Hwa? [ One hand is still behind him, but the other is cupped by the side of his mouth to help with the volume. He doesn't know if his voice is going to be heard, but he's standing right in front of the open door, about a step away from entering but not quite making it in. Clark hadn't been invited, after all, and Mama Kent didn't raise a rude boy who went into people's homes without permission. ] Ah... do you want me to close the door for you? It's awfully cold...
[ it's not the best second impression to make, running late to his own date after being the one to ask for it in the first place, but time had slipped away from geum-hwa before he could even think to text clark about it... also, he's just not used to having to be so considerate of his partner, after too many stints of seeing men for purely physical reasons. just as clark is learning a thing or two about dating, so is geum-hwa having to reteach himself how to do it properly. ]
Oh — come on in! Sorry, I'll be done soon—
[ he had leaned his head out from behind the changing partition to speak, flashing a bit of naked shoulders in the process, but soon after he's ducking back behind to finish changing. true to his word, it only takes him a few more minutes to have changed completely, stepping out in a nicer outfit of dark jeans, a button-up, and jacket. he's nowhere near as fancy as clark is right now, but admittedly he doesn't own anything that could compare...
he runs a hand through his hair a couple of times as he comes closer to where clark lingers. ]
Hi. [ okay, time to do it proper now. ] You look nice.
Oh — come on in! Sorry, I'll be done soon—
[ he had leaned his head out from behind the changing partition to speak, flashing a bit of naked shoulders in the process, but soon after he's ducking back behind to finish changing. true to his word, it only takes him a few more minutes to have changed completely, stepping out in a nicer outfit of dark jeans, a button-up, and jacket. he's nowhere near as fancy as clark is right now, but admittedly he doesn't own anything that could compare...
he runs a hand through his hair a couple of times as he comes closer to where clark lingers. ]
Hi. [ okay, time to do it proper now. ] You look nice.
[ Clark comes in only when he's told to, shutting the door gently behind him but not moving to sit anywhere. In fact, he stands there just as awkwardly as he'd stand anywhere else, hunched over with his bad posture and fixing his glasses as he takes a look around Geum-Hwa's home. The work station catches his attention, his head tilting slightly as he considers it, but he's careful not to look too long anywhere lest he be called a snoop.
He doesn't notice Geum-Hwa's returned until he's spoken to, turning his head sharply as a surprised 'oh!' comes out of his mouth. ] Hi. [ He doesn't seem the least bit concerned about the lateness, at least, and looks down at the clothes Geum-Hwa's got on with a smile. ] That colour looks good on you. [ And then he catches his gaze again, sheepish. ]
Um... I made you this. [ Clark's hand comes from behind him, and held gently in his fist is a bouquet of folded paper flowers. It's not a very big bouquet, and the flowers themselves aren't very intricate in folds, but he smiles all the same. ] I realised I didn't know if you were allergic to anything, and, besides, the flowers would've died in a handful of days, so I thought...
Well, [ he chuckles, using his other hand to push his glasses up his nose ] I hope you like it.
I was supposed to give it to you while we were out, but I thought it'd be better now that we're at your place, right? [ Teasingly, he adds, ] So you can pretend to keep it somewhere nice.
He doesn't notice Geum-Hwa's returned until he's spoken to, turning his head sharply as a surprised 'oh!' comes out of his mouth. ] Hi. [ He doesn't seem the least bit concerned about the lateness, at least, and looks down at the clothes Geum-Hwa's got on with a smile. ] That colour looks good on you. [ And then he catches his gaze again, sheepish. ]
Um... I made you this. [ Clark's hand comes from behind him, and held gently in his fist is a bouquet of folded paper flowers. It's not a very big bouquet, and the flowers themselves aren't very intricate in folds, but he smiles all the same. ] I realised I didn't know if you were allergic to anything, and, besides, the flowers would've died in a handful of days, so I thought...
Well, [ he chuckles, using his other hand to push his glasses up his nose ] I hope you like it.
I was supposed to give it to you while we were out, but I thought it'd be better now that we're at your place, right? [ Teasingly, he adds, ] So you can pretend to keep it somewhere nice.
Edited 2019-12-27 14:15 (UTC)
"Sorry Mr. Kant, Landman and Zack doesn't really do consulting for your type of, uh, case. I'm sure one of the smaller firms would be happy to speak with you for a nominal fee."
Matt can hear the way the fabric slides over the man's slumped shoulders, dejection as loud in the way he moves as it is soft in the murmured "It's uh...Kent...". Something about the way the man exhales as his shoes turn toward the huge glass doors suggests this isn't the first time he's gotten a negative response. It really shouldn't be any of his business, he's just an intern.
But he's never been able to just let someone slip away when it's clear they need help and he's in a position to offer it.
Altering his path slightly, he angles close enough to tap the side of one loafer with his cane as they near one another, letting his steps stutter to a halt as a look of apology crosses his face.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Didn't see you there." Getting the blind jokes out of the way has been a good policy for him, it's a great icebreaker and it lets people know you're not touchy about the topic. Matt shifts the brown paper bag containing his lunch (sandwich and coffee from the deli across the street) to the crook of his arm and holds out his free hand. "Welcome to Landman and Zack. Can I help you find someone?"
Matt can hear the way the fabric slides over the man's slumped shoulders, dejection as loud in the way he moves as it is soft in the murmured "It's uh...Kent...". Something about the way the man exhales as his shoes turn toward the huge glass doors suggests this isn't the first time he's gotten a negative response. It really shouldn't be any of his business, he's just an intern.
But he's never been able to just let someone slip away when it's clear they need help and he's in a position to offer it.
Altering his path slightly, he angles close enough to tap the side of one loafer with his cane as they near one another, letting his steps stutter to a halt as a look of apology crosses his face.
"Oh, I'm sorry! Didn't see you there." Getting the blind jokes out of the way has been a good policy for him, it's a great icebreaker and it lets people know you're not touchy about the topic. Matt shifts the brown paper bag containing his lunch (sandwich and coffee from the deli across the street) to the crook of his arm and holds out his free hand. "Welcome to Landman and Zack. Can I help you find someone?"
[ geum-hwa beams under clark's compliment, because he can be a little vain like that, but he stops short when he's suddenly presented with the paper bouquet.
for a moment he doesn't even know what he's looking at, and it takes him a moment longer to even realize that this is intended for him. a gift? on a date?? ]
For.. me?
[ clark had made this for him? suddenly an image of the man, hunched over some table and working meticulously to fold each and every one of these flowers fills his mind, and he's suddenly feeling flush with a warmth he hadn't felt in so long.
gingerly, he takes the flowers from clark, his cheeks pink. almost shyly, he glances back up at the man, lips curving into a small smile. ]
Cheek kisses are okay, right?
[ after all, clark had braved it the last time. still, geum-hwa will lean up on his tiptoes tentatively, giving clark just enough time to pull back if he wants to. if he doesn't, though, geum-hwa will lean all the way in and press a sweet kiss to clark's cheek. nice and brief and gentle, even if he really, really wants to do more. he has to actually bite down on his lip to keep himself from taking more, to be honest, and physically pulls himself away so he doesn't do something stupid.
he laughs lightly at clark's joke, and walks over to set the bouquet right on his bedside table. ]
I don't have any vases, but this should do... [ he grins at clark then, eyes twinkling mischievously. ] Then you'll be the last thing I think about when I'm in bed~
[ he can tease too, ok. ]
for a moment he doesn't even know what he's looking at, and it takes him a moment longer to even realize that this is intended for him. a gift? on a date?? ]
For.. me?
[ clark had made this for him? suddenly an image of the man, hunched over some table and working meticulously to fold each and every one of these flowers fills his mind, and he's suddenly feeling flush with a warmth he hadn't felt in so long.
gingerly, he takes the flowers from clark, his cheeks pink. almost shyly, he glances back up at the man, lips curving into a small smile. ]
Cheek kisses are okay, right?
[ after all, clark had braved it the last time. still, geum-hwa will lean up on his tiptoes tentatively, giving clark just enough time to pull back if he wants to. if he doesn't, though, geum-hwa will lean all the way in and press a sweet kiss to clark's cheek. nice and brief and gentle, even if he really, really wants to do more. he has to actually bite down on his lip to keep himself from taking more, to be honest, and physically pulls himself away so he doesn't do something stupid.
he laughs lightly at clark's joke, and walks over to set the bouquet right on his bedside table. ]
I don't have any vases, but this should do... [ he grins at clark then, eyes twinkling mischievously. ] Then you'll be the last thing I think about when I'm in bed~
[ he can tease too, ok. ]
Every time Clark's gone to a law firm, people haven't bothered to give him the time of day. While a part of him isn't surprised, another part of him is saddened by it-- these people are supposed to be able to help, especially those who are wrongly convicted; these people are Earth's answer to the posits of right and wrong... anyone would take Superman's case, he's sure. Anyone would kill just to be associated with him. But for nobodies like Clark Kent? The pool of people willing to help is slim, and the reality of how many go helpless is miserable.
Still, he's just about ready to stamp Landman and Zack out as another firm of many that wouldn't help the everyday citizen. And because Superman-- for all his power, and his abilities, and his reputation-- is no better than any other man you'd see on the street, then he shouldn't be able to ask them for help, either. It's a sad truth, but it's a truth all the same, and one he's about to carry out the door with him up until he feels something touch his foot and Clark Kent decides it's a sensation that requires a soft 'oh!'.
"I'm sorry," he says over the other man's apology, immediate and definite, "sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't..." Lifting his head somewhat to see who'd come across him, Clark is surprised for all of a moment when he notices the cane and the sunglasses... and then even more surprised when he hears the question that comes with him.
He blinks. "F-Find someone?" And then he looks over his shoulder at the receptionist that'd turned him down right off the bat, as if afraid she'd reprimand him for trying again.
"Well, I don't think so," he admits, turning to look at the other man (even if, he knows, he can't look back). "Um, they actually told me that my case... rather, they told me to leave just now, and I-- I don't want to cause any trouble."
He manages a small smile, soft in appreciation for this man's efforts to speak with him. "But it was, uh, nice to meet you." The outstretched hand is taken, and Clark's grip isn't especially firm, but he manages to shake it just fine. "And I'm sorry for blocking your way. I hope you have a good lunch, sir."
Still, he's just about ready to stamp Landman and Zack out as another firm of many that wouldn't help the everyday citizen. And because Superman-- for all his power, and his abilities, and his reputation-- is no better than any other man you'd see on the street, then he shouldn't be able to ask them for help, either. It's a sad truth, but it's a truth all the same, and one he's about to carry out the door with him up until he feels something touch his foot and Clark Kent decides it's a sensation that requires a soft 'oh!'.
"I'm sorry," he says over the other man's apology, immediate and definite, "sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't..." Lifting his head somewhat to see who'd come across him, Clark is surprised for all of a moment when he notices the cane and the sunglasses... and then even more surprised when he hears the question that comes with him.
He blinks. "F-Find someone?" And then he looks over his shoulder at the receptionist that'd turned him down right off the bat, as if afraid she'd reprimand him for trying again.
"Well, I don't think so," he admits, turning to look at the other man (even if, he knows, he can't look back). "Um, they actually told me that my case... rather, they told me to leave just now, and I-- I don't want to cause any trouble."
He manages a small smile, soft in appreciation for this man's efforts to speak with him. "But it was, uh, nice to meet you." The outstretched hand is taken, and Clark's grip isn't especially firm, but he manages to shake it just fine. "And I'm sorry for blocking your way. I hope you have a good lunch, sir."
Edited 2019-12-27 15:38 (UTC)
Okay, that's definitely the response of a man who needs help and is getting used to not finding it. A small frown flickers across Matt's face for a moment, before he banishes it to his eyes where it's hidden behind the dark lenses and softens his expression again.
"Are you sure? Maybe you just caught somebody on a bad day." An intern should not be offering this kind of reassurance, but it's his lunch break, right? He can talk to anybody he wants to on his own time. And he's sure that if something comes of the conversation, accounting will be more than happy to turn it into billable hours.
After their handshake, he takes his cane back into his right hand and gestures with it toward a bank of elevators. "I can't offer you anything but the ears of an intern, and in an unofficial capacity at that, but at least they're free for the next thirty-five minutes. If you want to tell me about your case."
"Are you sure? Maybe you just caught somebody on a bad day." An intern should not be offering this kind of reassurance, but it's his lunch break, right? He can talk to anybody he wants to on his own time. And he's sure that if something comes of the conversation, accounting will be more than happy to turn it into billable hours.
After their handshake, he takes his cane back into his right hand and gestures with it toward a bank of elevators. "I can't offer you anything but the ears of an intern, and in an unofficial capacity at that, but at least they're free for the next thirty-five minutes. If you want to tell me about your case."
Clark's eyes widen, a soft breath passing from his lips as his mouth pulls up into a bright grin. "Gosh, really?" Voice a little louder than he intended it to be, a bashful expression crosses his face, and he shrinks a little more into himself to keep from being too noticeable. The manila folder under his arm is shifted, moved so it's hugged to his chest.
He looks in the direction of the elevators the man's gestured to, and then looks back at the man himself with a careful push of his glasses his nose. "I don't... are you sure?" Thinking about this poor man's well-being, Clark's gaze softens, his posture slumping somewhat as he second-guesses himself. "I don't want you to get in trouble for speaking to me."
He looks in the direction of the elevators the man's gestured to, and then looks back at the man himself with a careful push of his glasses his nose. "I don't... are you sure?" Thinking about this poor man's well-being, Clark's gaze softens, his posture slumping somewhat as he second-guesses himself. "I don't want you to get in trouble for speaking to me."
This guy is really concerned with getting into trouble, and that pings Matt's radar. What's going on to make him so wary? With a tilt of his head, he takes a moment to scan the area for potentially relevant conversations. Nothing seems out of order, though, so he can set aside the worry that someone threatening might have accompanied 'Mr. Kent'.
So maybe it's that he's an overcautious kind of guy. Letting the reassuring smile settle back onto his lips, he reaches out to gently grip the man's arm.
"I'm allowed to have lunch with a friend. Come on up." A light squeeze, followed by the twitch of an eyebrow at how little give there is in the muscle underneath. He files that information away as interesting but not immediately relevant. "Matt Murdock, by the way. Like I said, I'm interning here. So please don't take any advice I give you as coming from the firm in any official capacity. That said? It's a good firm. There are good lawyers here. Don't give up on them just yet."
So maybe it's that he's an overcautious kind of guy. Letting the reassuring smile settle back onto his lips, he reaches out to gently grip the man's arm.
"I'm allowed to have lunch with a friend. Come on up." A light squeeze, followed by the twitch of an eyebrow at how little give there is in the muscle underneath. He files that information away as interesting but not immediately relevant. "Matt Murdock, by the way. Like I said, I'm interning here. So please don't take any advice I give you as coming from the firm in any official capacity. That said? It's a good firm. There are good lawyers here. Don't give up on them just yet."
Finally, Clark allows himself to smile, and he nods his head once. "Clark Kent," he says, and a little softer, he adds, "editor-in-chief for Metropolis' Daily Planet."
But for all the prestige a title like that might have, Clark hunches when he walks and follows after Matt with his head dipped down, trying to keep as little eyes on him as possible. The only time he manages to relax somewhat seems to be when they enter the elevator, and it's the two of them stood there on the way to whatever floor it is Matt's chosen.
"I like how you, uh, made sure I remembered you were an intern." He isn't looking at Matt when he says it, instead keeping his gaze up at the ticker for the floor levels. His fingers curl, absently, into the manila folder. "That's very lawyer-like, the clarification.
"...but you're already nicer than all the other lawyers I've seen."
But for all the prestige a title like that might have, Clark hunches when he walks and follows after Matt with his head dipped down, trying to keep as little eyes on him as possible. The only time he manages to relax somewhat seems to be when they enter the elevator, and it's the two of them stood there on the way to whatever floor it is Matt's chosen.
"I like how you, uh, made sure I remembered you were an intern." He isn't looking at Matt when he says it, instead keeping his gaze up at the ticker for the floor levels. His fingers curl, absently, into the manila folder. "That's very lawyer-like, the clarification.
"...but you're already nicer than all the other lawyers I've seen."
Y-Yes! Yes, cheek kisses are-- oh. [ Predictably, despite seeing Geum-Hwa coming, the press of his lips to his cheek breaks Clark's train of thought regardless. He's momentarily stupefied, bringing a hand up to touch where he'd been kissed as if in awe, and when he looks up he sees Geum-Hwa by his bed with the bouquet placed nicely on the table beside it.
His face warms completely at the phrase think about when I'm in bed, and Clark lets out a bark of a laugh because it's too early to be getting shy. More importantly, it's also to stop his thoughts from drifting somewhere too far. ]
Gosh... [ Hand finally dropping, he dips his head, taking a few steps backward towards the front door. ] You've got real interesting thoughts in your head, don't you? [ Not "interesting" enough for Clark to be driven away, though, if the way he holds his hand out is any indication. ] Come on. The night's young.
[ His other hand falls on the doorknob, blue eyes bright behind his glasses. ]
And you deserve something nice for all your hard work today.
His face warms completely at the phrase think about when I'm in bed, and Clark lets out a bark of a laugh because it's too early to be getting shy. More importantly, it's also to stop his thoughts from drifting somewhere too far. ]
Gosh... [ Hand finally dropping, he dips his head, taking a few steps backward towards the front door. ] You've got real interesting thoughts in your head, don't you? [ Not "interesting" enough for Clark to be driven away, though, if the way he holds his hand out is any indication. ] Come on. The night's young.
[ His other hand falls on the doorknob, blue eyes bright behind his glasses. ]
And you deserve something nice for all your hard work today.
"Nice to meet you, Mr. Kent." Editor-in-chief? That is a prestigious title, which has Matt wondering if he's mentioned that fact to anyone else, or if he was holding it back for some reason. The guy seems really shy and a little awkward in an entirely pleasant way, so maybe it didn't occur to him to throw his weight around a little to get what he wants.
It also makes Matt curious as to why he's visiting NY law firms instead of finding one in Metropolis.
While they ride the elevator, he takes stock of whatever he can gather from his senses: the way Clark smells, how he stands, the small movements he makes. None of it may end up being important, but it lets him paint a mental image, gives him a way of recognizing his new acquaintance if they should meet again. Plus, it's always useful to have a sense of a person you get into an elevator with. Or invite up to your messy little cubicle with a vague promise of help.
"Thanks, on both counts." Lawyer-like. What a great compliment, one that makes Matt grin warmly. "I'm sorry you haven't had a very good experience so far. Have you spoken to a lot of people already?"
When the elevator opens, it reveals an open-concept work area populated by busy-looking men and women. Matt doesn't have an office, of course; the interns are all grouped at desks with dividers between them, overflowing with reference books and stacks of folders. Matt's spot stands out in that there are no personal effects, no family photos or decorative tchotchkes, no spots of color to break up the monotony of black-white-gray. What he does have, however, is a heavy-looking braille typewriter, which he pushes slightly aside to make room for his lunch.
"Grab whatever chair is free, we don't really stand on ceremony on this floor. Would you like some coffee or water?"
It also makes Matt curious as to why he's visiting NY law firms instead of finding one in Metropolis.
While they ride the elevator, he takes stock of whatever he can gather from his senses: the way Clark smells, how he stands, the small movements he makes. None of it may end up being important, but it lets him paint a mental image, gives him a way of recognizing his new acquaintance if they should meet again. Plus, it's always useful to have a sense of a person you get into an elevator with. Or invite up to your messy little cubicle with a vague promise of help.
"Thanks, on both counts." Lawyer-like. What a great compliment, one that makes Matt grin warmly. "I'm sorry you haven't had a very good experience so far. Have you spoken to a lot of people already?"
When the elevator opens, it reveals an open-concept work area populated by busy-looking men and women. Matt doesn't have an office, of course; the interns are all grouped at desks with dividers between them, overflowing with reference books and stacks of folders. Matt's spot stands out in that there are no personal effects, no family photos or decorative tchotchkes, no spots of color to break up the monotony of black-white-gray. What he does have, however, is a heavy-looking braille typewriter, which he pushes slightly aside to make room for his lunch.
"Grab whatever chair is free, we don't really stand on ceremony on this floor. Would you like some coffee or water?"
[ it's become a nice game to play with himself, geum-hwa suddenly realizes. trying to see how far he can tease, how much he can get away with to get clark blushing just so. but as predictable as the man is becoming, he's still such an enigma; surprising enough that even the small gesture of offering his hand out to geum-hwa catches the tattooist off-guard. a part of him wants to tease, to ask if holding hands on the first date is too bold, but he finds he's a little too distracted by the twinkling of those baby blues to get very far with the thought. ]
Says the man working more than 40 hours a week, [ he laughs, almost scoffing.
he takes that hand, grabbing up his keys to lock the door behind him as they leave. his hand feels so wonderfully small in clark's, like some tangible reminder that he's safe, somehow.
he hums, trying not to let his thoughts trail to that kind of dangerous territory. ]
But, you're right. Five hours non-stop, can you believe it? He was so grumpy, too. Really soured my afternoon.
[ he sighs, taking the opportunity to walk a little closer, curl his other hand around clark's arm and hold him close. ]
I feel so much better now, though.
Says the man working more than 40 hours a week, [ he laughs, almost scoffing.
he takes that hand, grabbing up his keys to lock the door behind him as they leave. his hand feels so wonderfully small in clark's, like some tangible reminder that he's safe, somehow.
he hums, trying not to let his thoughts trail to that kind of dangerous territory. ]
But, you're right. Five hours non-stop, can you believe it? He was so grumpy, too. Really soured my afternoon.
[ he sighs, taking the opportunity to walk a little closer, curl his other hand around clark's arm and hold him close. ]
I feel so much better now, though.
The first thing that comes to Clark's mind when the doors slide open is that there're so many people. It's nothing he's not used to-- even with his elevated job, he's a little prone to being forgotten in his own workplace-- but it's difficult to manoeuvre when his natural instinct is to be as small as possible and keep his head down.
"I, ah, I've spoken to a few, yes." He just barely dodges a girl rushing with a stack of papers, eyes wide in alarm. "Um, Landman and Zack, actually, is a bit lower on my list, but only because it's not as close to the airport as the other firms..."
He ends up muttering little 'sorry's and 'excuse me's as he goes, his biceps to his sides and his folder clutched tightly to his chest, and it doesn't even matter whether he bumps directly into anyone or not.
"...I don't, uh, really know who to ask here, what with being from Metropolis and all."
Either way, he's relieved when they reach what he supposes must be Matt's area of work, even when he considers the bag put down. "I should be asking you if you need water," he says, concerned, and though Clark pales somewhat at the thought of 'grabbing whatever chair' (what if the owner came back?), he scratches the back of his head and takes one from a spot that's been decorated quite liberally with brightly coloured sticky notes, then sits as carefully as he can.
"Is your break very short? Gosh, I'm sorry for taking your time, Matt."
"I, ah, I've spoken to a few, yes." He just barely dodges a girl rushing with a stack of papers, eyes wide in alarm. "Um, Landman and Zack, actually, is a bit lower on my list, but only because it's not as close to the airport as the other firms..."
He ends up muttering little 'sorry's and 'excuse me's as he goes, his biceps to his sides and his folder clutched tightly to his chest, and it doesn't even matter whether he bumps directly into anyone or not.
"...I don't, uh, really know who to ask here, what with being from Metropolis and all."
Either way, he's relieved when they reach what he supposes must be Matt's area of work, even when he considers the bag put down. "I should be asking you if you need water," he says, concerned, and though Clark pales somewhat at the thought of 'grabbing whatever chair' (what if the owner came back?), he scratches the back of his head and takes one from a spot that's been decorated quite liberally with brightly coloured sticky notes, then sits as carefully as he can.
"Is your break very short? Gosh, I'm sorry for taking your time, Matt."
Edited 2019-12-27 17:51 (UTC)
Matt is fully aware of how chaotic and overwhelming the intern area can be, and he tries to shift things around enough to make the space at his desk intimate and closed, mentally setting them apart from the people working around them.
"So you're just randomly hitting up everyone you come across?" That's not the best way he can think of to find a lawyer. Making sure their chairs are angled toward one another, he unpacks his coffee and sets the bag with the sandwich aside for later. "Am I right to assume this must be a personal matter, since the Daily Planet isn't providing you with legal representation?" Could be just about anything if that's the case, so there's no point in trying to guess at Clark's reasons for needing an attorney.
He frowns a little at the assertion that the other man should be fetching water for him, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "You're the potential client here, why would you be getting water for me?" If there's a slight coolness in his tone, well. A lot of people make the mistake of assuming Matt is helpless, and he really doesn't want Clark to fall into that group.
There's a recorder in his desk drawer, and he sets it out but doesn't yet switch it on. "I usually work through lunch, so you're kinda doing me a favor by giving me a break. Can you tell me about your case? I'd like to record our conversation if that's all right, since I can't really take notes."
"So you're just randomly hitting up everyone you come across?" That's not the best way he can think of to find a lawyer. Making sure their chairs are angled toward one another, he unpacks his coffee and sets the bag with the sandwich aside for later. "Am I right to assume this must be a personal matter, since the Daily Planet isn't providing you with legal representation?" Could be just about anything if that's the case, so there's no point in trying to guess at Clark's reasons for needing an attorney.
He frowns a little at the assertion that the other man should be fetching water for him, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "You're the potential client here, why would you be getting water for me?" If there's a slight coolness in his tone, well. A lot of people make the mistake of assuming Matt is helpless, and he really doesn't want Clark to fall into that group.
There's a recorder in his desk drawer, and he sets it out but doesn't yet switch it on. "I usually work through lunch, so you're kinda doing me a favor by giving me a break. Can you tell me about your case? I'd like to record our conversation if that's all right, since I can't really take notes."
Embarrassed at the question of the whole water situation, Clark dips his head. "...I just thought I ought to make up for taking your break time." And he means it, really and truly-- he'd never been an intern himself, not really, had lucked out with his position at the Planet because of Perry White's necessity for workers churning out article after article after article. But he'd seen the interns White had worked before, and though things are different now with Clark at the reins, he can't help but feel a little guilty, still.
The sight of the recorder is so professional, though, and Clark knows that from a legal standpoint, Matt isn't really representing anyone. But is he taking this as a chance to hone his skills...? Because if so, then Clark feels a lot less like a burden, and he opens his folder because he figures he'll have to read some of the facts and figures out loud for Matt to get them.
"Recording is, uh, fine. Yes." He clears his throat in an attempt to get rid of all the kinks in his throat, goodness, and waits for the button to be pressed before he starts to speak, one hand on the folder's contents whilst the other fidgets with the side of his glasses to get it back up his nose. "So. You mentioned the Planet. Um, they're not-- this isn't, actually, a case concerning the Planet, or me, but one of my writers was assigned to cover the, uh, expansion of this New York-based real estate corporation..."
The story, simply put, is that the corporation had decided to build a condominium in some miraculous stretch of land in Metropolis' more urban area, close to a home for the elderly. Though talks had begun before the actual purchase and there was an unwritten agreement that the condominium was not to disturb the "peaceful atmosphere" of the area and its current residents, it was discovered that not only was there going to be a high-rise condominium building, but there was going to be a grocery store, a cinema, an arcade-- all these little things meant to make the condominium a more "convenient" place to live in "with everything you need close-by", and subsequently an area more liable to have significant amounts of noise and traffic.
To make matters worse, the building was now meant to be tall enough to block the sun out from ever reaching the home. That, apparently, had been the residents' tipping point.
"...so you see, Mr. Murdock, I don't know if there's anything we can do to help them, especially if the land's been purchased."
The sight of the recorder is so professional, though, and Clark knows that from a legal standpoint, Matt isn't really representing anyone. But is he taking this as a chance to hone his skills...? Because if so, then Clark feels a lot less like a burden, and he opens his folder because he figures he'll have to read some of the facts and figures out loud for Matt to get them.
"Recording is, uh, fine. Yes." He clears his throat in an attempt to get rid of all the kinks in his throat, goodness, and waits for the button to be pressed before he starts to speak, one hand on the folder's contents whilst the other fidgets with the side of his glasses to get it back up his nose. "So. You mentioned the Planet. Um, they're not-- this isn't, actually, a case concerning the Planet, or me, but one of my writers was assigned to cover the, uh, expansion of this New York-based real estate corporation..."
The story, simply put, is that the corporation had decided to build a condominium in some miraculous stretch of land in Metropolis' more urban area, close to a home for the elderly. Though talks had begun before the actual purchase and there was an unwritten agreement that the condominium was not to disturb the "peaceful atmosphere" of the area and its current residents, it was discovered that not only was there going to be a high-rise condominium building, but there was going to be a grocery store, a cinema, an arcade-- all these little things meant to make the condominium a more "convenient" place to live in "with everything you need close-by", and subsequently an area more liable to have significant amounts of noise and traffic.
To make matters worse, the building was now meant to be tall enough to block the sun out from ever reaching the home. That, apparently, had been the residents' tipping point.
"...so you see, Mr. Murdock, I don't know if there's anything we can do to help them, especially if the land's been purchased."
Clark isn't wrong in his assessment -- this is a perfect way for Matt to get in some practice, while doing what he feels is a small favor for someone in need. And it can't hurt to boost Landman and Zack's image a little, considering the way Clark was initially treated. It's not all about the firm, of course, but Matt does appreciate his position enough to want to do right by his employer.
His motivation undergoes a severe transformation as he listens to the story laid out for him, however. As Matt's expression grows more and more serious, he makes a few mental notes that he'll put down as soon as Clark is finished. This is exactly the kind of case that really grabs at his heart; ordinary people just trying to live their lives, being taken advantage of by heartless big business. These are the people he really wants to help.
"I'm going to need all the records, all the paperwork you can dig up on this. Anything that's been put in writing, even if it's unofficial. News stories, announcements...everything. And names -- everyone involved with the real estate company as well as a list of the residents who'll be impacted. Personal details would be great, too."
Mind racing, he turns away for a few minutes to type out his thoughts on the braille-writer, fingers flying over the keys. He'll find someone to take on this case. Foggy will help, and probably Marci too. He'll even promise to do all the legwork on it, and give up the credit to whichever associate he can cajole into accepting. "Landman and Zack will take your case, Mr. Kent. I might need a couple days to compile materials and make a pitch to the associates, but somebody here will step up, I'm sure of it."
He turns his head toward Clark, a solemn line between his brows. "I'll make sure of it. Those residents will be all right. We won't let them down."
His motivation undergoes a severe transformation as he listens to the story laid out for him, however. As Matt's expression grows more and more serious, he makes a few mental notes that he'll put down as soon as Clark is finished. This is exactly the kind of case that really grabs at his heart; ordinary people just trying to live their lives, being taken advantage of by heartless big business. These are the people he really wants to help.
"I'm going to need all the records, all the paperwork you can dig up on this. Anything that's been put in writing, even if it's unofficial. News stories, announcements...everything. And names -- everyone involved with the real estate company as well as a list of the residents who'll be impacted. Personal details would be great, too."
Mind racing, he turns away for a few minutes to type out his thoughts on the braille-writer, fingers flying over the keys. He'll find someone to take on this case. Foggy will help, and probably Marci too. He'll even promise to do all the legwork on it, and give up the credit to whichever associate he can cajole into accepting. "Landman and Zack will take your case, Mr. Kent. I might need a couple days to compile materials and make a pitch to the associates, but somebody here will step up, I'm sure of it."
He turns his head toward Clark, a solemn line between his brows. "I'll make sure of it. Those residents will be all right. We won't let them down."
The way Matt has changed is positively inspiring. Clark is awed by it, at the demands he gives, at the way he turns to start typing-- and in the back of his mind, he decides not to write Landman and Zack off just yet.
A relieved sigh escapes him, and Clark nods his head, looking back down at his folder as one hand comes up over his chest, over his heart that's beating strong and alive. "Thank you, Mr. Murdock," he says, meaning it, and though he takes a careful inhalation, when he looks back up his own expression has hardened a little into the man that got the job of editor-in-chief, his voice steadier as if he's been invigorated with a new bout of hope. "That's all I wanted to hear.
"If it's materials you need, I have photocopies of the most pertinent documents in this folder" -- he taps it with his hand to make a noise -- "and you can have it, if you'd like. My writer's got spare copies of her own.
"But we have more physical documents at the Planet-- a lot of the things you mentioned, actually-- and a few print outs of the e-mails used to communicate with the home's owners to show their initial intentions. I could arrange to have them sent here by tomorrow."
Straightening somewhat, he folds his hands on his lap. "Is there anything I can do to help more?"
A relieved sigh escapes him, and Clark nods his head, looking back down at his folder as one hand comes up over his chest, over his heart that's beating strong and alive. "Thank you, Mr. Murdock," he says, meaning it, and though he takes a careful inhalation, when he looks back up his own expression has hardened a little into the man that got the job of editor-in-chief, his voice steadier as if he's been invigorated with a new bout of hope. "That's all I wanted to hear.
"If it's materials you need, I have photocopies of the most pertinent documents in this folder" -- he taps it with his hand to make a noise -- "and you can have it, if you'd like. My writer's got spare copies of her own.
"But we have more physical documents at the Planet-- a lot of the things you mentioned, actually-- and a few print outs of the e-mails used to communicate with the home's owners to show their initial intentions. I could arrange to have them sent here by tomorrow."
Straightening somewhat, he folds his hands on his lap. "Is there anything I can do to help more?"
Edited 2019-12-27 19:07 (UTC)
He's going to have to manage this very carefully, if he wants to convince the firm without looking like he's overstepping his authority. Which he absolutely is, but he's willing to fight for this case. To take it to another firm if absolutely necessary. It's as if he's already given his word directly to the people involved himself.
Although he can't see the way Clark's demeanor changes, he can hear the strength settle into the man's tone. It's really admirable the way he's taken on this fight, considering that a lot of people in the media are more interested in the salaciousness of a story than whether what's happening is right.
"Anything you can send over would be great. I'll give you a card-" He pulls out his wallet and slides a generic business card for the firm from it, his own name and contact information written neatly on the back of it. He'd bought Foggy burgers and drinks for a week in return for his friend going through a stack of cards for him. If he's ever made an associate, he'll push to make sure every business card in the building includes a braille translation.
"Be willing to answer an endless list of questions? There's a lot more I'll need to know, you're gonna be hearing from me a lot." It's going to be so much work, so many late nights, but Matt feels positively energized by the idea, it shows in the way his face practically glows. "Will you be staying awhile, in New York?"
Although he can't see the way Clark's demeanor changes, he can hear the strength settle into the man's tone. It's really admirable the way he's taken on this fight, considering that a lot of people in the media are more interested in the salaciousness of a story than whether what's happening is right.
"Anything you can send over would be great. I'll give you a card-" He pulls out his wallet and slides a generic business card for the firm from it, his own name and contact information written neatly on the back of it. He'd bought Foggy burgers and drinks for a week in return for his friend going through a stack of cards for him. If he's ever made an associate, he'll push to make sure every business card in the building includes a braille translation.
"Be willing to answer an endless list of questions? There's a lot more I'll need to know, you're gonna be hearing from me a lot." It's going to be so much work, so many late nights, but Matt feels positively energized by the idea, it shows in the way his face practically glows. "Will you be staying awhile, in New York?"
Clark takes the card in two hands, pinched carefully between his thumbs and forefingers. Turning it over, the sight of Matt's name and details gets a small smile on Clark's face, and he tucks it away in the front pocket of his jacket with a 'thank you'.
"I will be staying here a while, um, yes." Chuckling, he brings a hand up to rub at the side of his neck. "I sort of..." It takes him a moment to think of the right thing to say, and then he leans in with a tone low for conspiracy. "I sort of told everyone back home that I'd do my best to fix this." His expression goes sheepish-- Clark knew very well that he hadn't been especially crafty as far as searching for law firms went, but that's probably just a testament to how much faith he likes to employ in the goodness of people. That someone would be willing to listen (and, miraculously, it seems someone had been). "...and, well, I don't much like to lie, Mr. Murdock.
"I have a, um, motel address. If you'd ever like to find me. But I've also got a card..."
Reaching into his pocket, Clark pulls his wallet out, taking out one of two copies of his business card that's been brought for this very purpose. He touches Matt's hand gently with it for him to take.
A small smile. "You should be able to feel my name, number, and e-mail." Because the Daily Planet's been as accessible as it can be for quite a while now.
"I will be staying here a while, um, yes." Chuckling, he brings a hand up to rub at the side of his neck. "I sort of..." It takes him a moment to think of the right thing to say, and then he leans in with a tone low for conspiracy. "I sort of told everyone back home that I'd do my best to fix this." His expression goes sheepish-- Clark knew very well that he hadn't been especially crafty as far as searching for law firms went, but that's probably just a testament to how much faith he likes to employ in the goodness of people. That someone would be willing to listen (and, miraculously, it seems someone had been). "...and, well, I don't much like to lie, Mr. Murdock.
"I have a, um, motel address. If you'd ever like to find me. But I've also got a card..."
Reaching into his pocket, Clark pulls his wallet out, taking out one of two copies of his business card that's been brought for this very purpose. He touches Matt's hand gently with it for him to take.
A small smile. "You should be able to feel my name, number, and e-mail." Because the Daily Planet's been as accessible as it can be for quite a while now.
Edited (oh god last one i promise) 2019-12-28 03:40 (UTC)
The subtly raised dots on the card placed into Matt's hand just raise his estimation of the man across from him. Maybe that's not his doing, but it's an indication of the kind of place he works for. Matt doesn't know much about the news business, but he has to figure an editor-in-chief and the paper he operates must have a few things in common.
"This'll be fine, no need for your motel. I'll put your information in my phone, and promise not to call in the middle of the night."
He can taste his adrenaline starting to rise, and feels grateful that Clark has such a calm, steady presence. "Well, I can't promise that I'm the best route to take toward fixing things, but you won't find anyone who'll fight harder. I won't let you down, Mr. Kent."
"This'll be fine, no need for your motel. I'll put your information in my phone, and promise not to call in the middle of the night."
He can taste his adrenaline starting to rise, and feels grateful that Clark has such a calm, steady presence. "Well, I can't promise that I'm the best route to take toward fixing things, but you won't find anyone who'll fight harder. I won't let you down, Mr. Kent."
Expression softening, Clark smiles, keeping his gaze on Matt even as he adjusts his glasses from its position on his nose. "It's the effort that I was looking for," he assures him, his hand coming back down to rest on his lap along with the other one. A little bashful, he looks down where his hands come together, his tone of voice soft. "You can't possibly let me down.
"But I, uh... I believe you had something to eat?" Clark considers the forgotten lunch bag, laughing sheepishly as he does. "I'm sorry, again, for taking away your time. I can go down myself, I think-- am I allowed to do that?" Clark fidgets somewhat, awkward. "Uh...
"A-Anyway, I'll arrange to have the evidence at the Planet sent here immediately, and I can meet you tomorrow, if that's all right," he says, standing from his seat. Clark thinks about holding his hand out, but reaches instead to take Matt's shoulder under a surprisingly firm touch, giving it a small squeeze of gratitude. "Thank you for listening, and, um, wanting to help, Mr. Murdock.
"It's going to... well, it's going to give a lot of people hope, is what it's gonna do."
"But I, uh... I believe you had something to eat?" Clark considers the forgotten lunch bag, laughing sheepishly as he does. "I'm sorry, again, for taking away your time. I can go down myself, I think-- am I allowed to do that?" Clark fidgets somewhat, awkward. "Uh...
"A-Anyway, I'll arrange to have the evidence at the Planet sent here immediately, and I can meet you tomorrow, if that's all right," he says, standing from his seat. Clark thinks about holding his hand out, but reaches instead to take Matt's shoulder under a surprisingly firm touch, giving it a small squeeze of gratitude. "Thank you for listening, and, um, wanting to help, Mr. Murdock.
"It's going to... well, it's going to give a lot of people hope, is what it's gonna do."
It's half-past four in the morning, and Clark turns over when he hears shuffling from Matt's end of the room. "Hey..." And he'd prepared for this, what with having been given permission to 'make himself at home' about twenty-eight hours earlier, if the smell of coffee over the stove is any indication (Matt didn't have a coffee maker, and Clark made do).
"You fell asleep," is his explanation, "for... fifteen minutes?" Or so his watch says. "But, um, I thought you might've needed the rest."
They had, after all, been on the grind for hours now.
Matt was working faster after Clark had made a quick trip to the Fortress to translate all his documents into braille, but all this accessible information (which he'd waved off as 'a perk of working at the Planet') had also made him work harder. And Clark appreciated hard work as much as the next person-- admired it, really, and how could he not admire Matt, with everything he'd done for him so far?-- but gosh if it didn't make it hard to tell him he might be working too hard.
So the nap was a good thing. In those fifteen minutes Clark made coffee for them, cooked some instant noodles he'd found with some vegetables to make it a little less horrid, and toasted bread with butter. In fact, he was eating some of it now, a piece of toasted bread folded with the noodles in-between like filling for a sandwich.
"...and I definitely think you need the food." He smiles sheepishly. "We completely forgot about dinner earlier."
"You fell asleep," is his explanation, "for... fifteen minutes?" Or so his watch says. "But, um, I thought you might've needed the rest."
They had, after all, been on the grind for hours now.
Matt was working faster after Clark had made a quick trip to the Fortress to translate all his documents into braille, but all this accessible information (which he'd waved off as 'a perk of working at the Planet') had also made him work harder. And Clark appreciated hard work as much as the next person-- admired it, really, and how could he not admire Matt, with everything he'd done for him so far?-- but gosh if it didn't make it hard to tell him he might be working too hard.
So the nap was a good thing. In those fifteen minutes Clark made coffee for them, cooked some instant noodles he'd found with some vegetables to make it a little less horrid, and toasted bread with butter. In fact, he was eating some of it now, a piece of toasted bread folded with the noodles in-between like filling for a sandwich.
"...and I definitely think you need the food." He smiles sheepishly. "We completely forgot about dinner earlier."
Edited 2019-12-29 04:41 (UTC)
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