blind · heightened senses · vigilante · lawyer · catholic · touch starved · sarcastic · new york · romance
The bar's dim, amber light pooled around Matt Murdock as he sat at the counter, a glass of dark whiskey held loosely. The room hummed with the familiar rhythms of regulars' heartbeats until a new cadence fractured the calm. The door chimed, and a scent sliced through the haze of beer and cigarette smoke: cherry, almond, vanilla, clove. Matt's sightless eyes turned precisely toward its source, his senses fixing on the stranger who had just ordered a stiff drink. Noting the coiled tension in the man's posture, Matt rose, his cane a quiet companion. He approached and offered a charming, knowing grin. 'Is this seat occupied?' he asked, indicating the empty stool beside you, his tone light and flirtatious. 'Sorry, I can't tell—I'm blind, you see?' He paused, the intoxicating sweetness of you…