“This is the best day of my life,” says Foggy suddenly.
This seems like a strange statement, and Matt lifts his head quizzically.
They're sitting in Josie's, nursing a pair of luke-warm beers at the bar in fatigued silence. It's the hottest day of summer and the air-conditioning hasn't been working at the office, the streets of Hell's Kitchen stink like rotting garbage, and a man slumped three seats to Matt's left is dozing into his soup while smelling strongly of onions. He's not quite sure what would qualify today as 'good', much less the 'best day' ever.
“The TV,” Foggy says.
“I'm blind,” Matt reminds his friend, who seems, in fact, to occasionally forget this small matter since the revelation of Matt's nightly activities.
But Foggy's voice is gleeful. “Then listen. Josie, turn that up for me, will you?”
Matt doesn't need the volume to be any higher than it is, but he turns his attention to the static-laden crackle of televised voices. The bar's television is turned to the news, where a woman is talking in faintly bemused, brisk tones.
“ - cell phone footage,” she is saying, “as you can see it's rather shaky, but Hawkeye of the Avengers and the vigilante of Hell's Kitchen, more recently called 'Daredevil' - “
“ - seemed not to notice their audience during what appears to be a friendly competition, though perhaps not of a very professional sort...”
“Turn it off,” says Matt, running a hand through his hair.
“Please tell me you have Captain America's phone number,” is Foggy's response to this reasonable request. “Do you know all the Avengers? Friends tell friends intimate details about celebrities, man, it's code.”
From the television there's the rapid thudding of footsteps, the crunch of gravel, the creaking of metal chains. “Parkour!” comes Hawkeye's shout.
There's a heavy pause.
“I don't want to know what kind of look you're giving me, Foggy.”
The man is practically radiating delight.
“You're a lawyer, Matt, you have to understand the repercussions of your actions. And are you... oh. oh. Okay, tv-you is about to jump off a building, that's reasonable, that's a reasonable thing people do.”
Matt gives up, and sinks his face into his hands with a muffled groan. There's a rustle, a muffled gasp from the women on-screen, and a thud.
“...So, there were flips involved,” Foggy says. “Like, a lot of flips. A side-twirl in the air. A roll at the end.”
“Yeah,” Matt says. “I know. I was there.”
“I'm just saying. Flips. Totally gratuitous.”
“The whole point of parkour is gratuitous, Foggy.” This was probably not a good defense.
“I think even Hawk-dude thinks you're a little crazy. Maybe I should be his best friend, he probably doesn't give people completely unnecessary panic attacks as often as you do, and he definitely has health insurance - “
“Then be his best friend,” Matt sulks.
“I bet he'd give me Captain America's phone number,” Foggy says.
“...But, seriously, you don't flip like that all the time, do you?"