hawk_shot | (Reply)

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He'd come to rely on his senses. They were the trade off for losing his sight, his special way of interacting with the world now. To have them dampened made Matt antsy, and he groggily shifted in his bed as he asked after the well being of Heather and Kate. Once he was assured they were both fine he sipped some water, realizing the creaky sound being made was coming from his own voice. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, the rest having a cotton-like sensation. He swallowed hard as he asked, "Fisk?"

Heather paused a moment, trying her personal and professional best to understand the man that lay in front of her as she answered him. "You saved his life."

"Yeah. I heard someone scream gun and I just reacted." Again with a half-truth, which meant that it was partly a lie. Matt had heard that metal click before anyone screamed. It had given him the edge to respond before anyone else. Otherwise Kate might have leaped in front first, and Matt didn't want to think about that possibility. His head turned a little, but it was in the direction of Kate who approached the bed. "Poindexter? Jack?"

"Bullseye is still at large." Another voice answered part of his question. Kirsten's. Matt was so drugged he hadn't even registered her fully in the room until she helped him cover for saying Kate's name. Hearing that the shooter was still alive and well, and active, Matt ripped out the tube from his nose and struggled to sit upright.

"He... Vanessa Fisk ordered the hit on Foggy." Matt's voice was weak but determined, that stubborn streak not willing to budge on this. He could feel the frustration from some in the room but he stood firm. He licked dry, cracked lips and persevered. "Kirsten, listen, the case Foggy was working on, can you get me access to it from-" A groan overtook him as he sat up too fast, pulling at stitches.