The description hums on the radio of every cop on the west side of Manhattan, while Matt adjusts his tie and his grip on his cane. It's another layer of misdirection, part of the mask, and yet--
"Señor Matt, ¿de dónde es usted?" Mrs. Cardenas asked, and Matt could've played dumb. He could've made more of an effort to match Karen's careful textbook pronunciations, not to sigh the ends of his syllables like his grandmother when she declared en ellos está el Diablo--
Instead he smiled and said, "Nueva York," and that made her laugh. And yet--
Bess Mahoney cornered them at Elena's funeral and tried to cheer them up. "You did right by her, boys. I told her, Foggy's a smart boy, he'll treat you right. I told her, don't worry about the suits, those white boys are from the neighborhood, they'll take care of you--"
"Black male, 5'10", approximately 170 pounds--"
Elektra had said they belonged everywhere precisely because they belonged nowhere. "Exotic, they call us," she whispered in his ear. "Do you know what that means? It means we're so pretty they forget that we're people."
Claire had just run her fingers over his hair--he needed a trim, it was getting long enough to spring back against the pressure. "I think you're the man this city created."
"A mutt, you mean?"
"The great American melting pot," she said wryly. "But that wasn't what I meant and you know it."
"I know what you meant."
He can hear Foggy on the phone as he gets closer to the office; he must be talking to his parents, because his r's and g's fade out and his vowels curl up at the edges. "Ma. Ma. Yeah, I'm coming on Sunday, you don't gotta--yeah, I'll ask Matt, but he is in fact a separate person, he might be doing something. I'll ask him. I just said I'll ask!"
By the time Matt actually gets into the office, Foggy's voice is back to Ivy League standards, because Columbia has a checkbox for first-generation college students but not for working-class accents. (Matt ticked every box on the application; his Ivy League voice got him called articulate.) "You're late, Murdock. That means first round's on you tonight."
"Can I take a rain check?"
"At this point I think you've got enough rain checks to buy the damn bar."
Matt unpacks his laptop and sets up his peripherals; he's got email from the Dominican Bar Association and Metropolitan Black Bar Association, but Bess Mahoney still calls him a nice white boy and he's never been stop-and-frisked when he's wearing a suit.
While he's wearing the suit, he's a black male, 5'10, about 170 pounds.
It shouldn't bother him.
---- a/n: I'm assuming this version of Maggie was Afro-Latina and this Matt is played by Jesse Williams. Critique is welcome.
[Mini-Fill] Matt/any, What if Matt were biracial/mixed?
"Black male, 5'10", approximately 170 pounds..."
The description hums on the radio of every cop on the west side of Manhattan, while Matt adjusts his tie and his grip on his cane. It's another layer of misdirection, part of the mask, and yet--
"Señor Matt, ¿de dónde es usted?" Mrs. Cardenas asked, and Matt could've played dumb. He could've made more of an effort to match Karen's careful textbook pronunciations, not to sigh the ends of his syllables like his grandmother when she declared en ellos está el Diablo--
Instead he smiled and said, "Nueva York," and that made her laugh. And yet--
Bess Mahoney cornered them at Elena's funeral and tried to cheer them up. "You did right by her, boys. I told her, Foggy's a smart boy, he'll treat you right. I told her, don't worry about the suits, those white boys are from the neighborhood, they'll take care of you--"
"Black male, 5'10", approximately 170 pounds--"
Elektra had said they belonged everywhere precisely because they belonged nowhere. "Exotic, they call us," she whispered in his ear. "Do you know what that means? It means we're so pretty they forget that we're people."
Claire had just run her fingers over his hair--he needed a trim, it was getting long enough to spring back against the pressure. "I think you're the man this city created."
"A mutt, you mean?"
"The great American melting pot," she said wryly. "But that wasn't what I meant and you know it."
"I know what you meant."
He can hear Foggy on the phone as he gets closer to the office; he must be talking to his parents, because his r's and g's fade out and his vowels curl up at the edges. "Ma. Ma. Yeah, I'm coming on Sunday, you don't gotta--yeah, I'll ask Matt, but he is in fact a separate person, he might be doing something. I'll ask him. I just said I'll ask!"
By the time Matt actually gets into the office, Foggy's voice is back to Ivy League standards, because Columbia has a checkbox for first-generation college students but not for working-class accents. (Matt ticked every box on the application; his Ivy League voice got him called articulate.) "You're late, Murdock. That means first round's on you tonight."
"Can I take a rain check?"
"At this point I think you've got enough rain checks to buy the damn bar."
Matt unpacks his laptop and sets up his peripherals; he's got email from the Dominican Bar Association and Metropolitan Black Bar Association, but Bess Mahoney still calls him a nice white boy and he's never been stop-and-frisked when he's wearing a suit.
While he's wearing the suit, he's a black male, 5'10, about 170 pounds.
It shouldn't bother him.
----
a/n: I'm assuming this version of Maggie was Afro-Latina and this Matt is played by Jesse Williams. Critique is welcome.