Name: Matt Murdock Canon: Daredevil (TV) Location: The Smoking Room
As he sidles up to the long, polished length of the Smoking Room's bar, Matt is distinctly aware of not being remotely good enough for this particular drinking establishment. Not good in the moral sense—Although that's certainly questionable—but in terms of wealth and entitlement. The floor is marble and the chandeliers have real crystal in them. He's a long, long way from Josie's comforting stench and pock-marked tabletops.
"Scotch and water," he orders as he settles onto a stool, white cane propped against the bar beside him. He sips, wondering how much this is going to cost him, and draws in a slow breath as he listens.
Lavish as this place may be, just like the hotel around it there is more diversity within its walls than most streets in Manhattan. Some patrons lounge with privilege, but just as many are roughly raucous or scented with cheap shampoo. A few lift their glasses with calloused fingers and drink with the deep resignation of the working class. Some, he thinks, may not even be human.
no subject
Canon: Daredevil (TV)
Location: The Smoking Room
As he sidles up to the long, polished length of the Smoking Room's bar, Matt is distinctly aware of not being remotely good enough for this particular drinking establishment. Not good in the moral sense—Although that's certainly questionable—but in terms of wealth and entitlement. The floor is marble and the chandeliers have real crystal in them. He's a long, long way from Josie's comforting stench and pock-marked tabletops.
"Scotch and water," he orders as he settles onto a stool, white cane propped against the bar beside him. He sips, wondering how much this is going to cost him, and draws in a slow breath as he listens.
Lavish as this place may be, just like the hotel around it there is more diversity within its walls than most streets in Manhattan. Some patrons lounge with privilege, but just as many are roughly raucous or scented with cheap shampoo. A few lift their glasses with calloused fingers and drink with the deep resignation of the working class. Some, he thinks, may not even be human.