"I don't want you, Murdock, I want Nelson," Brett said, a couple weeks later. Which was - shit, not good, not great, and what had Foggy's life become, that when Brett Mahoney dropped into the office unexpected, Foggy knew he had to think back on the last couple of weeks? Had he - no, he hadn't, that was the thing: so why would Brett be hunting him down in the middle of the workday?
"Anything you can tell Foggy you can tell me," Matt said. He stood with the fingers of one hand light against the edge of Karen's desk, consciously - or unconsciously - between her and Brett. Great. Karen saw him first, because Brett'd been standing with his back to the door, hands on his hips like he meant to intimidate, not like he meant to shoot the shit. She made the face - her eyes widened and she shook her head, fractionally, go away - before realizing what she was doing.
"What kind of conspiracy nut jobs," Brett said, and turned to glare at Foggy.
Karen winced, now that Foggy was the only one who could see her face, and mouthed sorry.
"Nelson," Brett growled, and fuck, this wasn't good, what was this about? And when had Foggy's life become the kind of situation where it was necessary to get your stories straight before the cops questioned you and your loved ones? "With me, we need to talk."
"Is he under arrest or wanted for inquiries?" Matt asked. It was his courtroom voice, or rather, one of his courtroom voices. One of the oldest tricks on the book, sure, say things in a deep quiet voice and people would automatically hone in on your words. That was bad enough. What was worse was that Foggy could see one of Matt's fists tightening around his cane, knuckles going white with pressure, and if Foggy could see it, then Brett sure as hell would notice it. He was a good cop, and not stupid, and what the hell was Matt thinking, escalating this situation?
Brett did indeed notice, because he shifted. Slightly. "The hell has gotten into all of you?"
"Matt," Karen said, and touched his elbow. "It's okay, though."
"It's not," Brett said, short and surprisingly troubled. "Nelson, I got to talk to you - unofficially, but keep it up, Murdock, and it's gonna be official pretty damn soon."
Foggy took a moment to be very fucking glad, for once, that Matt was the one usually marked up like a domestic violence ad. Brett wasn't stupid. It looked like he had, in fact, gotten past his surprise to consider the dynamics in the room. The morning sun was ice cold and water, coming in through their window, and it was only ten thirty, and Foggy wanted a nap. The last thing they needed was Matt drawing the attention of law enforcement, even if it was someone they knew, by being too aggressive. Possessive. Whatever.
"It's fine, I'll be right back," Foggy said.
Brett looked happy enough to pull him outside the door and grill him in the hallway, which - could go so, so wrong in so many ways that Foggy still didn't want to think about, much less plan around. There was, unfortunately, no way to say "please get further away so my best bud in there doesn't eavesdrop on what may or may not be an incriminating talk, thanks."
"Lemme buy you a coffee," Foggy said, instead.
"I don't want coffee, Nelson," Brett said, and fuck, continued: "I want to know what the hell you're doing talking to Gutierrez and Taylor lately."
"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?" Foggy asked, because haha, absolutely yes there was, and it was because Taylor was the kind of cop who would absolutely make sure that the people Daredevil beat up didn't waste time filing brutality claims. Unfortunately, he didn't do it for free, and he didn't want anything as simple or easy as the occasional box of cigars. Foggy and Karen had managed to keep him happy, for now, and not too terribly interested in why they were so interested in Daredevil's victims, but -
- well, people would've started talking eventually.
Foggy had no idea why Brett knew enough to be worried about them, or what else they might be involved in - Taylor was useful, and he and Karen needed as much help as they could manage - but there'd be time enough for those kinds of questions later, honestly.
Brett squinted at Foggy, hard, and then chuffed a disbelieving, scornful laugh. "You're stonewalling me," he said.
It was true, which put Foggy in this shitty position of having to a) lie to Brett's face, which would be a terrible idea because he was a good cop, or b), continue to stonewall, which would become comically obvious in about seven more seconds. He went with saying nothing - not least because shit, it wasn't like this was a private conversation. Unless Karen had come up with something really creative at the last second, Matt was undoubtedly listening in with all his might.
Foggy said nothing, and Brett rubbed his face, looking disappointed and more surprised than Foggy felt was strictly necessary.
"Fine," he said. "Y'know what? Fine - but I warned you, Nelson."
Re: Foggy takes over Fisk's empire and becomes Kingpin thing 2
"I don't want you, Murdock, I want Nelson," Brett said, a couple weeks later. Which was - shit, not good, not great, and what had Foggy's life become, that when Brett Mahoney dropped into the office unexpected, Foggy knew he had to think back on the last couple of weeks? Had he - no, he hadn't, that was the thing: so why would Brett be hunting him down in the middle of the workday?
"Anything you can tell Foggy you can tell me," Matt said. He stood with the fingers of one hand light against the edge of Karen's desk, consciously - or unconsciously - between her and Brett. Great. Karen saw him first, because Brett'd been standing with his back to the door, hands on his hips like he meant to intimidate, not like he meant to shoot the shit. She made the face - her eyes widened and she shook her head, fractionally, go away - before realizing what she was doing.
"What kind of conspiracy nut jobs," Brett said, and turned to glare at Foggy.
Karen winced, now that Foggy was the only one who could see her face, and mouthed sorry.
"Nelson," Brett growled, and fuck, this wasn't good, what was this about? And when had Foggy's life become the kind of situation where it was necessary to get your stories straight before the cops questioned you and your loved ones? "With me, we need to talk."
"Is he under arrest or wanted for inquiries?" Matt asked. It was his courtroom voice, or rather, one of his courtroom voices. One of the oldest tricks on the book, sure, say things in a deep quiet voice and people would automatically hone in on your words. That was bad enough. What was worse was that Foggy could see one of Matt's fists tightening around his cane, knuckles going white with pressure, and if Foggy could see it, then Brett sure as hell would notice it. He was a good cop, and not stupid, and what the hell was Matt thinking, escalating this situation?
Brett did indeed notice, because he shifted. Slightly. "The hell has gotten into all of you?"
"Matt," Karen said, and touched his elbow. "It's okay, though."
"It's not," Brett said, short and surprisingly troubled. "Nelson, I got to talk to you - unofficially, but keep it up, Murdock, and it's gonna be official pretty damn soon."
Foggy took a moment to be very fucking glad, for once, that Matt was the one usually marked up like a domestic violence ad. Brett wasn't stupid. It looked like he had, in fact, gotten past his surprise to consider the dynamics in the room. The morning sun was ice cold and water, coming in through their window, and it was only ten thirty, and Foggy wanted a nap. The last thing they needed was Matt drawing the attention of law enforcement, even if it was someone they knew, by being too aggressive. Possessive. Whatever.
"It's fine, I'll be right back," Foggy said.
Brett looked happy enough to pull him outside the door and grill him in the hallway, which - could go so, so wrong in so many ways that Foggy still didn't want to think about, much less plan around. There was, unfortunately, no way to say "please get further away so my best bud in there doesn't eavesdrop on what may or may not be an incriminating talk, thanks."
"Lemme buy you a coffee," Foggy said, instead.
"I don't want coffee, Nelson," Brett said, and fuck, continued: "I want to know what the hell you're doing talking to Gutierrez and Taylor lately."
"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?" Foggy asked, because haha, absolutely yes there was, and it was because Taylor was the kind of cop who would absolutely make sure that the people Daredevil beat up didn't waste time filing brutality claims. Unfortunately, he didn't do it for free, and he didn't want anything as simple or easy as the occasional box of cigars. Foggy and Karen had managed to keep him happy, for now, and not too terribly interested in why they were so interested in Daredevil's victims, but -
- well, people would've started talking eventually.
Foggy had no idea why Brett knew enough to be worried about them, or what else they might be involved in - Taylor was useful, and he and Karen needed as much help as they could manage - but there'd be time enough for those kinds of questions later, honestly.
Brett squinted at Foggy, hard, and then chuffed a disbelieving, scornful laugh. "You're stonewalling me," he said.
It was true, which put Foggy in this shitty position of having to a) lie to Brett's face, which would be a terrible idea because he was a good cop, or b), continue to stonewall, which would become comically obvious in about seven more seconds. He went with saying nothing - not least because shit, it wasn't like this was a private conversation. Unless Karen had come up with something really creative at the last second, Matt was undoubtedly listening in with all his might.
Foggy said nothing, and Brett rubbed his face, looking disappointed and more surprised than Foggy felt was strictly necessary.
"Fine," he said. "Y'know what? Fine - but I warned you, Nelson."
(ahahaha how does the mob work?)