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daredevilkink2015-11-06 07:45 am
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Daredevil Prompt Post #8
HEAD OVER TO PROMPT POST #9.
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Marvel Comics | Jessica Jones
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Re: FILL: [16c/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-04 12:17 am (UTC)(link)xxx
When they check in at reception, Foggy can feel Matt’s fingers tighten on his arm as they take his cane away, but he doesn’t protest. Foggy is starting to get a bad feeling about this, but doesn’t yet say anything when they are both led into an examination room.
The nurses who come to check on them first aren’t cruel, but they also clearly don’t view the slaves as people. As soon as they enter the examination room, Matt is ordered to strip off his clothing, without even being given a smock or a little changing room like Foggy remembers from his own doctor’s visits. And he can see Matt tries not to show his unease, tries to strip as mechanically and unhesitatingly as most slaves do, but he can’t quite manage it, the hint of embarrassment and humiliation is there. Foggy swallows, turning his face away even though he knows Matt can’t see it, and wishes the nurses would, too. This is your fault, a voice in his head whispers, you let him get used to be treated decently, and now you’re throwing him right back to the wolves. This is called being cruel, Nelson, it says, and Foggy wishes he knew what the right thing to do even is.
As soon as Matt’s naked, a nurse unceremoniously grabs his arm and he flinches, stumbling onto the scales she drags him onto. Foggy wants to look away.
Matt wearing his impenetrable, red-tinted sunglasses, in sleekly-cut, dark clothing, a razor-sharp smile on his face when he’s killing someone in a debate, is such a jarring contrast to Matt now, naked, bruised, shoved under unforgiving neon light, and stumbling when nobody bothers to warn him about things on the floor, that Foggy hates himself, because he’s pretty sure Matt wouldn’t ever have wanted anyone to see him like this.
“Um,” he says, not quite either addressing Matt or the nurse, “Y’know, maybe I should just wait-“
And Matt’s head flies around, even as he is manhandled onto the scale, and he seems to shake his head urgently in Foggy’s direction. No, he mouthes.
“-or maybe I’ll stay? If that’s okay?” Foggy asks, befuddled and feeling like he’s floundering. “You can do whatever you wish, sir,” the nurse replies as she positions Matt on the scale and notes down his weight.
“Alright. I’ll…I’ll just sit down here, then.” Foggy swallows and moves over to the chair he has put Matt’s clothes on after they hadn’t offered to take them and apparently expected him to just drop them on the floor. Matt gives him the tiniest nod, before he is already taken off the scale again, and the note-taking continues.
Matt is also measured (and Foggy clenches his hands on his thighs, because they do measure him everywhere), has his temperature taken (“Maybe he shivers because he isn’t wearing anything, not because he has a fever,” Foggy scathes, as one of the nurses comments on Matt shuddering from time to time, but is largely ignored. Matt does turn his head and give him a slight, tightly-wound smile as the nurse is not paying any attention to him while taking his blood pressure, which Foggy supposes is better than nothing.) Before they proceed to call in the doctor, they do actually ask Foggy whether Matt needs to be buckled down or whether he is ‘well-behaved’ enough, and it’s all Foggy can do to not snap at them that Matt isn’t an animal, and suggesting that the doctor is the one in need to get his head examined.
“No,” he says instead, hollowly. “No, he can follow orders just fine.”
Matt is standing awkwardly next to him, still shivering slightly without any clothes, and a part of Foggy registers how he now actually seems more self-conscious about being naked than when Foggy first got him. Foggy has already realized that the previous owners of Matt regarded clothes more as a rare privilege than a given necessity, but since he hasn’t ordered Matt once to undress for him after that first night of awkward patching-up, it has been a while since he was last on display like this.
Foggy hates himself a little for first allowing Matt to feel human again and keep his dignity only to then force him to a place where he is stripped off it all over again.
“Rough punishment?” is the first thing the doctor says in lieu of greeting when he enters and sees Matt and the collection of bruises as well as the cut.
“Uh…kind of? Some of it was an accident,” Foggy stumbles through a half-lie. Matt hadn’t wanted to tell him the truth – according to him, he ‘fell and landed in glass shards’, which would have sounded like the biggest cop-out if Foggy had tried to tell that a medical professional. The doctor gives him a look that is not at all impressed.
“Perhaps you should read up on proper punishment techniques,” the doctor – a middle-aged, dark-haired, slim man with an air of indifference and too little sleep – says, as he bends close to examine the wound, Matt barely keeping from flinching as he prods at it without announcement. “That cut is infected and the bruises aren’t far from actually vital organs.”
“Oh. Right,” Foggy swallows. Next to him, Matt looks guilty and shameful, which obliterates any desire Foggy had to serve him a giant ‘I Told You So’-sundae, with a self-satisfaction cherry on top. Instead, he tries to reach out to pat him on the upper arm. “I’m sorry. I really want him to be healthy.”
Again, the doctor looks at him a little disparagingly, but then shakes his head.
“Very well,” he says instead, “in that case, get him to sit down on that table. Legs apart, hands behind his back. Does he need a gag, or a muzzle?”
“No. No, he doesn’t,” Foggy replies flatly, trying for Matt’s sake to remain calm. The little flash of relief on Matt’s face as Foggy grants him his requests of not having to be restrained almost makes Foggy’s stomach turn over.
Still, he can’t help but feel a little better when he sees how Matt looks now compared to when he saw him naked for the last time. The old wounds, at least, have faded to faint scars, and his slightly-too-thin frame has filled out with what is definitely muscle. The work-out sessions at the gym and the college meal plan seem to be having an effect. Matt has put on some hair on and between his legs, too – Foggy remembers with a twitch how Matt had once off-handedly mentioned how his previous owners had kept him shaved, and how ingrown hairs everywhere were currently a bitch (and words rhyming with ‘bitch’). Foggy had forced a sympathetic clap on Matt’s shoulder, because everything else would have meant another internal freak-out.
Seeing Matt now, sitting miserably and exposed on the table, startling whenever the doctor handles him, unannounced, to survey his glands, to check for melanoma, ingrown nails and open sores anywhere, makes him open his mouth to look at his throat, gums and teeth, draws blood to check for infections and grabs his hair to test its thickness before pressing a not-warmed up stethoscope against his chest, Foggy wants to take both Matt’s previous owners, as well as careless doctors, and throw them all out the window.
Instead, all he can do is look away and hold Matt’s hand as they inform him that a mandatory check for STDs is up next and Matt tries to stop himself from cringing away as they insert the cotton swab inside his urethral canal, head tilted toward the ceiling and eyes suspiciously glistening. They assure Foggy, whose emotions have to be showing on his face, that the procedure is painless, though Foggy is pretty sure Matt’s reaction has little to do with physical pain and more to do with, once again, people touching him against his will and him not being able to do a single thing about it. Foggy has to control himself not to throw up, but Matt has asked him to stay, keeps squeezing his hand through the procedure, so he stays.
When the nurse handling Matt goes “Aw, what a good boy you have here. Usually they panic so much we have to tie them down, but yours is exceptionally obedient. You’ve trained him well,’ patting Matt’s hip as she pulls the cotton tip out of Matt again, Foggy has to stop himself from murdering everyone within twenty yards.
Instead he just whispers ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,’ over and over again in between procedures and Matt only once turns and gives him a strange look in between the helpless and the grateful. At least they do stitch, dress and disinfect his wounds, at which Matt worryingly flinches as little as the night Foggy got him.
“Alright. Your slave seems healthy, though I will have to prescribe a course of antibiotics for the infection,” the doctor briefly glances at his notepad, not really looking at either of them. “Has he been used for sex, in the last two years?”
“Ergh,” Foggy replies eloquently, then “Yes,” at Matt’s tiniest, near imperceptible nod. Matt was so right, this was a terrible idea and Foggy will never insist on doing this again. “But I don’t, uh, need him…cleaned, or anything. Anywhere,” he fumbles to add, almost feeling sick himself.
“Yeah, yeah,” The doctor nods absently. “In either case, he’s due two vaccination refreshers, too – might as well get that over with as we finish up. You can already go down to reception to pick up your paperwork. Just make sure to look up proper punishment techniques before you apply corrective measures the next time.” Now he does glance up at Foggy, and his entire tone seems to be a variation of ‘So you don’t take up my valuable time because you fucked up your pet again’.
“Uh,” Foggy says, trying not to sound too hopeful. “So we’re done?”
“Mostly,” the doctor says, already pulling out a syringe and filling it with what is presumably the vaccine he talked about. “Get him to stand up and bend over the table, and you can leave.”
“Um,” Foggy swallows as he shuffles closer to Matt’s side while the nurse is getting out what looks like antiseptic wipes and a syringe “Do you want me to…?”
“You can leave,” Matt’s reply is murmured even more quietly than Foggy’s question was, both them feeling awkward as always when made aware of how unorthodox their relationship is. Matt is sliding off the table now, standing close to Foggy’s side, head bowed in what could be submission, but Foggy suspects is more like awful embarrassment. “I’ll…I’ll be fine. You don’t have to watch this, too. I can tell this is distressing for you.”
“I’ll do what you want me to,” Foggy says, feeling terribly unsure of whether Matt would like him gone to preserve a last shred of his dignity after all or would like him to stay to feel safer. Matt being, well, Matt, Foggy suspects the former but he can’t shake a lasting, gnawing feeling.
“We are almost done, yeah?” He asks the doctor again. “Just this left? You already checked off that he was healthy, I don’t want any other unnecessary procedures performed.”
“Hm? Yes, yes,” the doctor replies, more focused on making sure no air is left in the syringe than actually looking terribly interested in Foggy or Matt. Foggy suspects slave doctors hardly get selected for their bedside manner or ethical standards.
“It’s okay,” Matt tells him quietly. “Go. They’ll give me my clothes and cane back after and I’ll come find you.”
I’ll come find you. For some reason, Foggy can feel his throat constricting as if he were being garrotted.
“All…Alright, then.” Foggy swallows to get rid of the feeling, ineffectually. “Sorry,” he whispers, just for Matt’s ears, as he gives him a last squeeze of his biceps, Matt already leaning forward on the examination table, head bowed. He gives a fierce little nod and Foggy leaves as the doctor approaches with the wipes in one latex-gloved hand, loaded syringe in the other. It’s pretty clear where Matt is supposed to receive the shot if they want him in this position, and Foggy closes the door audibly so Matt knows he is at least spared the audience of the one person who views him as a human being.
Foggy firmly resolves to take Matt out for seriously fancy food after they get out of here, and maybe buy him a very soft cushion to sit on.
“Hello. My name is Nelson. I’m here to pick up the general letter of health and an antibiotics prescription for my slave, 10-4-1964…?” Foggy approaches the receptionist, the one person in this building who actually smiles at him, still feeling weird whenever he calls Matt by his system number rather than the name he now knows is what he actually considers his own.
“Ah, yes, of course. Just one moment while I print it out for you…” the young blonde woman gives him a smile and proceeds to click away at her computer, while Foggy tries not to let his gaze wander around too much the reception area and waiting rooms. There is a mixed clientele of free people by themselves (and a kid with their parent) and other owners with their pets, all of whom look exactly as miserable as Matt, some of them downright terrified. Foggy suspects that this is what it would look like if the waiting room at a vet’s office was populated by people instead of animals and kind of hates himself for that thought. Some of the slaves get to sit on chairs like Matt did, though, and Foggy vainly hopes that this means their owners treat them at least halfway decently. God, he can’t wait to a) free Matt and b) become a lawyer so he can work against shit like this.
“Um. Sorry. Printer problems,” the receptionist interrupts his thoughts and shoots him an apologetic expression as she starts to wrestle with the electronic equipment. “Shouldn’t take more than a minute, hopefully.”
“Sure,” Foggy says, now a bit absent-minded himself as he starts getting antsy when he realizes that some minutes have passed already. Shouldn’t Matt have come out by now? How long can two vaccinations take?”
“What? But F- Mr. Nelson said –“
Foggy’s ears strain as he thinks he might just have heard what sounded like Matt’s voice behind the door - but that doesn’t make any sense, Matt had said he wouldn’t be allowed to talk in here. Foggy frowns, not able to catch anything else, attention half divided between the whimpers from the waiting room, the quiet (but inventive) cursing from the receptionist and wondering whether his imagination just played a trick on him or not.
“No. No, please –“
“ – standard procedure. Nurse, get –“
Now that was definitely the doctor’s voice, though, and it sounded annoyed. Foggy straightens himself immediately, all of his attention focused on the closed examination room door, heart beginning to pound. Should he…?
“- making this difficult. Slaves as responsive as this one-“
- is the next thing Foggy hears, the doctor’s voice again, but then, then, there’s a cry from Matt, something terrible that sound like anger, anguish and something worse mixed in, and before the receptionist can even say anything, he’s already past the counter and comes crashing back into the practice.
“Right, get ready to note the – what-?” the doctor’s head turns, just as Foggy bursts into the room again, and freezes – mostly because Matt is currently bent nearly flat over the table, shaking, his hands clawing into the material as the doctor’s fingers have worked him wide open and proceed to push deeper inside.
“No. Please don’t make me-!” Matt cries out again, just before his body convulses against the table helplessly in an unmistakeable manner, and his flushed face is so full of helplessness and rage and shame, head turned around to not-see Foggy, that Foggy feels something strange and new and sharp come over him, and he walks right up and backhands the doctor straight across the face.
xxx
Re: FILL: [16c/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-04 12:27 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: [16c/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-09 12:45 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: [16c/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-04 12:29 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: [16c/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-09 12:46 am (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: [16c/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-04 12:48 pm (UTC)(link)It's a good thing Matt did protest, that he dared to in the hope that Foggy would hear him, but I bet Foggy's never going to leave Matt alone with a doctor again.
How much trouble will Foggy get into for hitting the doctor? Can he defend himself on the basis that the doctor was damaging Foggy's property by using Matt without Foggy's permission?
Re: FILL: [16c/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-09 12:48 am (UTC)(link)Foggy will have to defend himself shortly and this might be an avenue that they will pursue, yes. And yup, it definitely shows Matt's trust that he was hoping Foggy would stop this if he knew about it. Thanks for your review, hope you like the next part! :3
Re: FILL: [16c/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-04 09:07 pm (UTC)(link)Damn.
Re: FILL: [16c/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-09 12:50 am (UTC)(link)FILL: [17/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-09 12:54 am (UTC)(link)xxx
“That, um. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a slave owner doing something like that before.”
“Oh god. Don’t remind me,” Foggy has his face buried in his hands. “I’m in so much trouble.”
Foggy is also currently sitting bent almost double on the edge of his dorm room bed after a very long Saturday. A Saturday that involved his best friend getting raped, the cops getting called on Foggy, a trip to the police station where there had been a lot of questions, and now it’s so, so late at night and he’s so tired. But at least they’re both home safe. For now.
(It happened so fast. Foggy remembers only patches now, how he briefly only saw red, and then Matt moved, and suddenly Foggy had been on the floor, Matt above him, asking, ‘Foggy? Foggy, is that you? Did you stumble and fall?’ loudly and waving his hand through the air as if trying to find him. The doctor had been standing there, gaping, and one of the nurses had screamed, and the other immediately called the police, and then there had been more men in the room, and events became even more blurred. He does remember holding on to Matt so tightly, though, that at least nobody took him away from him on the way to the station, and they did allow him to put his clothes back on.)
Matt now is sitting across from him, now again dressed in the soft, thin sweats he prefers for nights spent in, and, by comparison, looks almost more put-together than Foggy, despite what happened to him earlier today and that he had to spent hours kneeling on the floor in a police station afterwards.
“I,” Matt swallows. “Thank you, Foggy.”
“You…you don’t have to thank me,” Foggy manages, although a part of him notes that Matt, despite the events of the day seems somehow more…relaxed now than perhaps ever before. Foggy clears his throat, feeling a bit awkward.
“That wasn’t…that wasn’t right, what that doctor douche was doing. I mean, I don’t like violence, honestly.” He can feel his eyes narrowing. “But I think I’d punch him again, anyway.”
(At this, Matt gives him a smile that almost seems a little bit too sharp for a grateful pet, but again, Foggy only remembers this much, much later.)
Aloud, Matt says, “Well, technically, it was only the standard stim test. It’s usually routinely performed when owners even bother to bring their pets in – in fact, it’s most likely the only reason anyone ever would bring their slave in for a routine check-up, if you listened to slave merchants,” Matt says dryly. “Results of that performance test greatly affect our resale value.”
“Yay for humanity,” Foggy mutters. “For the record, I am so, so sorry I took you there.”
(And he would be more sorry. He would be sorry enough to kill himself, if what he had done would be enough to get Matt taken away from him, permanently. Neither of them know quite what the consequences will be, so for now they're avoiding the topic, desperately wanting to think about anything but Matt maybe getting taken away. Even though Matt isn’t even the one who has broken the law here. In fact, anyone who met Matt would think the entire idea laughable, Foggy tries to tell himself.)
“I’m…fine, I think,” Matt gives him a lop-sided smile that at least doesn’t look like a complete lie. “It’s…nothing I wasn’t used to,” he swallows, “it just…it had been a while. And I had genuinely been hoping to avoid it this time.”
Avoid what? Being finger-fucked specifically or being raped in general? Foggy wants to ask and can feel his stomach turn. Instead he hears himself say,
“Well, for the record, I’m all for you getting used to that not happening again,” Foggy says, throat a bit constricted. “Unless you want to. With a partner of your choice. Uh. And not an asshole in white who probably won his medical licence in a game of Operation. You know, when we’re lawyers we can go on and try to sue him. Y’know, after he’s done sueing me.”
(And oh god, his bio-mom is going to kill him when she hears this.)
Matt, despite their situation, laughs a little, and Foggy thinks it’s the most relieving sound he’s heard since this horrible afternoon. “Sounds great. Although…” he cocks his head. “Weren’t we gonna go for defence?”
“Oh! Yeah!” Foggy (who may or may not have had a couple of beers at this point, to drown out the horror of this day) snips his fingers. “Defence! Right. ‘cause there’s money in that.”
Matt (who seems more than eager to change the topic as well), cocks an eye brow, a snort escaping him. “What, now suddenly money is more important than justice?”
“Noooo. No, no, no,” Foggy protests. “We’re so gonna stand for truth and justice and all that. Right. Just as soon as we’ve worked our way up and made partners somewhere, totally.”
“Hmm,” Matt humms a little, laugh fading into something softer, and almost a little…nervous? He fiddles with his beer bottle, turning his head slightly away from Foggy as he licks his lips. “You know…actually…”
“Hm? What?” Foggy blinks, for a moment feeling a slight uptick in his heart beat. Matt looks slightly tense and almost embarrassed, in a way he hasn’t for a long time.
“I...” Matt swallows. “Back when I was…a kid. I always wanted to be a lawyer.”
Foggy abruptly feels a lot more sober. Matt hasn’t yet shared much of his past at all with him, all Foggy knew so far was that he was an orphan, raised in St Agnes until the day he turned eighteen, and was then sold off to cover the cost of his stay there after nobody wanted to pay to have him adopted before he became an adult. It’s the reason why Matt had both the educational background to be a useful house slave as well as get an undergrad degree – state wards usually receive both the education needed to become free citizens in case they do get adopted, as well as the training necessary to be a working slave in case they don’t. Foggy has tried and failed to avoid imagining what it would have to have been like when that metal collar closed around your neck the day you became eighteen.
“Oh, really?” he tries now, because he can sense this must be kind of big for Matt. After all, a slave telling their owner about their childhood dreams for their future…it’s obvious to how much hurt and ridicule Matt could be opening himself up here. What kind of weapons he is giving Foggy by even sharing this much.
“Yes,” Matt nods, now, more firmly than before. “My dad, when he was still alive, he…” he almost seems to stop himself, there but then appears to steel himself and press on regardless. “I promised him I’d make him proud. Someday. That I’d…I’d own my own legal firm. To fight for those nobody else will fight for.” Foggy stares at Matt, still, as his slave adds a humourless huff to his words. “Well. I don’t think that turned out quite like anybody hoped for. Don’t even own myself, these days, never mind a firm.”
“Matt…” Foggy’s voice is hoarse, and Matt almost flinches at his name, turning his face firmly toward the floor.
“No, don’t…I’m sorry, I have everything I could ask for, Foggy. Really. That was out of line. I’m sorry.”
“Matt, no.” Foggy abruptly leans forward, grasping Matt’s wrist before his slave, now obviously thoroughly uncomfortable and embarrassed, having stripped himself bare figuratively after the doctor today did so literally, can turn away and potentially burrow himself into his blankets with his face against the wall. Matt freezes in his grip, like he did the first time Foggy grabbed him, and Foggy sighs, relenting a little, and letting his thumb massage some circles into the inside of Matt’s wrist. It does seem to relax him a little, or at least, stop him from pulling away even more.
“Matt,” Foggy says again, more firmly.
Matt huffs, shifting awkwardly. “Yes, Foggy. I’m fine. It was just…a long day. Never mind,” he tries a small, hopeful smile. “Let’s go to sleep so we can become rich, successful lawyers faster?”
“Sure,” Foggy says, tone casual. “Just tell me one thing.”
“Always,” Matt says.
“Do you still dream of your own law practice?”
(Slaves don’t have dreams, the manual says. Slaves only wish for the immediate comfort and reassurance of their master’s approval.)
“Yes,” says Matt, and even though he looks like he expects Foggy to hit him for it, his voice sounds utterly assured.
“Alright, then,” Foggy says, utterly serious, “Our sign will say, ‘Murdock and Nelson, Free Avocados at Law’.”
Again, Matt stares at him, blindly, for one or two heart beats, and then he starts laughing, going ‘It’s not avocados, Foggy, it’s avogabos’ and ‘I have heard all of your puns, and this one’s the worst’, and, finally, ‘and besides, it should be ‘Nelson and Murdock’ which sounds better - you can trust me, there’s this guy who told me blind people have spectacular hearing’.
And Foggy grins, and clinks his half-empty beer against Matt, and he tells him about what it was like to be a chubby, poor kid at school who was only really good at debate team and music, and how his mom had wanted him to be a butcher. Matt tells him about one last fight he heard, and that mixture of pride and loss, and they do end up on the floor in front of the same bed somehow, more drunk and leaning against each other for support, swapping stories and laughing (at Foggy’s, anyway, but also at some of Matt’s). And then, when the night is turning to a close, and Matt (the lightweight) is definitely about to be out of it soonish, he lets his head slump against Foggy’s shoulder and chest, murmuring ‘Nelson and Murdock. Sounds good, Foggy’, before losing consciousness and ending up in his owner’s lap entirely.
Foggy groans, and huffs, attempting to wrestle them into a position at least marginally suited for sleeping, and, even though Matt might have been just a liiiiittle bit drunk as he said it, Foggy couldn’t help but notice that for the first time it sounded like he genuinely believed Foggy would actually free him.
Somehow, this means that even the day at court and likely fine for assault that Foggy knows is coming his way doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
xxx
It’s about a week after their visit at the clinic, and a day before their letter to appear before court, when Foggy gets sick.
“Matty. You don’t have to do this.”
Matt, in between heating water for a new hot water bottle, cooking chicken soup, figuring out the Braille on the lozenges and pain killers he got from the campus drug store, and trying to brew three different head cold teas for Foggy at once, shoots him a consternated expression. “You do know that this is what I’m here for, right?”
Foggy groans and rolls his head into the pillow on the other side, hoping that this one might be marginally less painful. “I thought we went over this. Matt, you know to me you’re just my friend, nothing more and nothing less.”
“I know, Foggy. That’s what I just said,” Matt replies, and when Foggy’s feverish brain finally manages to make sense of that comment, he wonders whether it’s just his high temperature making him feel this warm.
xxx
Re: FILL: [17/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-09 04:42 pm (UTC)(link)-MATT MY SON. MATT.
-Does Foggy realize just the degree to which Matt is trusting him? Does he understand the sheer leap of faith there?
-Oh, MATT.
-Will Rosalind make an appearance wrt them being sued?
-FUCK YEAH DAY AT COURT. I CAN'T WAIT.
Re: FILL: [17/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-02-12 05:29 pm (UTC)(link)Re: FILL: [17/?] Foggy gets Matt as a College Graduation Present
(Anonymous) 2016-04-11 12:53 am (UTC)(link)