getting warmer, and Sarah found that she didn't need her sweater for the walk home, even with the evening chill. She folded it up and fidgeted with the fabric in her hands as she and Matt made their way through an alleyway, letting her mind drift to the comfortable bed that was waiting for her at home.

Matt was a good bit taller than she was, and she had to take two steps for each of his strides. It wasn't until she tripped over a flattened cardboard box that he seemed to notice how quickly she was walking to keep up with him, and he slowed down.

Sarah glanced over at him as he fell back to keep in step with her.

"Are you sure you can afford to walk me home?" she asked him. "Isn't there, like...crime you should be stopping?"

He shook his head. "Most of it won't start up for another couple of hours, when people start leaving the bars. But I'm keeping an ear out."

"Oh," she said, then squinted at him. "So, at any moment you might just...parkour away and leave me in this maze of sketchy alleyways?"

Matt chuckled. "It's possible. You might want to actually start telling me about what happened at work, just in case."

Sarah blushed as she realized that she'd been walking in silence for the first ten minutes of the walk, so completely lost in her own thoughts that she had forgotten she was supposed to be updating him on Orion. After all, he wasn't just walking her home to be nice; this was still a business meeting of sorts.

"Sorry," she muttered tiredly. "You should have said something."

He shrugged. "I figured you'd snap back to earth eventually. What happened today?"

"Nothing good. I got promoted," she said gloomily.

"Promoted to...what?"

"I can't really tell what my new title is. It was all very vague. Like a secretary, but with extra stuff. Something about running errands, which sounds less than legal," she grumbled. "I'll be working for Jason now. Which I'm not looking forward to. He's very...unsettling is the word, I guess."

"How so?" Matt asked suspiciously.

"I don't know. It's hard to describe. It's like he's not even human. I...I just can't read him. I don't understand what he's thinking or what he wants. With Ronan, at least I knew what he wanted," she said, and even in the dark she could see Matt's jaw twitch in that now-familiar way. "And that was awful, obviously, but not being able to read Jason at all is worse."

"You think he's going to try to hurt you?"

"No," she said slowly. "Well, not right now. But I also get the feeling that if I wound up dead, he wouldn't care at all. Which makes me a little nervous about the kinds of errands he'll be sending me on. A lot nervous, actually. Ronan was...a lot of awful thing. Mean, and creepy, and gross. But he was also dumb, which was nice. Jason is smart, and I know he doesn't trust me."

"Do you think you'll still be able to stay below the radar?"

She frowned and looked down, carefully stepping over a few plastic crates scattered around the ground. "I mean, I'm going to try, obviously. But in case you haven't noticed, I'm not very good at all of this, so who knows."

"You're doing alright."

Sarah had to laugh at that. "I'm doing awful. I'm the Amelia Bedelia of spies, Matt."

"You could be doing worse."

"How so?"

Matt shrugged. "You...could be dead."

"Thank you. That's comforting."

"Or you could have run off and left the whole thing behind."

"Don't think I haven't thought about it," she muttered under her breath. Sometimes she still forgot about his enhanced hearing, and she winced when he turned his head in her direction at the comment. "Not—not that I'm going to."

"You said yourself that you aren't a professional spy. No one expects you to be."

"Apparently Claire does. Did you hear her ask me if I'm a vigilante, too?"

"I did hear that," he said, cracking a small grin and shaking his head. "I guess if a blind guy can do it..."

"Oh, I could totally do it. They'd have to be very small criminals, though," Sarah said thoughtfully, watching her feet in the dark so she didn't trip. "Or very lazy ones. Jaywalkers, maybe. Or litterers."

Matt chuckled slightly, presumably at the image of Sarah intimidating any sort of criminal.

"People who ride their bikes on the sidewalk," he offered. "They always knock into me."

"That's a good one," she agreed. "Maybe people who don't let others get off the subway before they try to get on."

"I'm not sure that's actually against the law."

"Maybe not," she admitted. "But it's a dick move, anyway."

"Always been enough motivation for me."

"I've noticed. I don't think I'd be very good at hitting people, though. Turns out, it kind of hurts your hands," she said idly, frowning at her split knuckles before looking up at Matt, who she could have sworn was smirking slightly at the obvious statement. "You...probably already knew that, though. Because you hit people for a living."

"Practicing law is my living, actually," he reminded her. "And you were probably doing it wrong."

"Practicing law wrong?"

"Punching wrong."

"Alright, well...we didn't all go to vigilante school, Matthew," she grumbled.

Matt laughed. The sound was short and sudden, like her remark had taken him by surprise. "I just mean that it doesn't hurt that much if you have a good technique."

"I have a good technique. It's called not getting into fights with people."

"Right. I never quite mastered that one."

She gave him a sideways glance. "Shocker."

He laughed again, and she found herself studying his face, hoping he didn't notice her staring. It was so rare that she got to see him show any sort of sense of humor, and amusement still seemed like such an oddly foreign thing to see on his masked face.

He took a sharp turn around a corner, and she followed. He led them down a darkened side street with a few old cars parked along the side.

"This is a pretty convoluted shortcut," she pointed out, eyeing the broken windows that dotted the buildings above them.

"Maybe not one you should take by yourself."

"I don't just go wandering down dark side streets in Hell's Kitchen by myself," she protested. "I do have some sense of self-preservation, you know."

"Yeah?" Matt said, turning around to face her while lazily walking backwards. "I don't know if I need to point out that you're currently following a masked vigilante through a bunch of darkened back alleys."

"Well—okay, that's fair. But this is a one-time thing. Meanwhile, you know this route so well that you're just walking backwards like it's no big deal," she pointed out in exasperation.

"Why would that be any different than walking forwards? I can't see anything either way."

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, trying to figure out if he was bullshitting her.

"So, what, there's no difference for you between what's in front of you or behind you?"

"Not really. It's sort of a 360 thing," Matt explained, swinging back around so that he was walking forward again, keeping even with Sarah's slower pace. "People with sight see what's in front of them, and a little bit of what's beside them. But the way my senses work...I pick up on every direction equally. Comes in handy when I'm fighting, since there's no real difference between someone sneaking up behind me or attacking me to my face."

Sarah observed the dark alleyway as they continued their trek, trying to imagine what it would be like to be equally aware of everything around her. It sounded overwhelming.

As if on cue, something far away seemed to catch Matt's attention. Whatever it was, Sarah couldn't hear it, but she knew Matt was listening when he stopped walking and tilted his head to the side slightly.

"What's wrong?" she whispered.

He shook his head. "Cops around the corner. They're on one of the sides streets I was going to take us down. Checking out an abandoned vehicle, or something."

"Do we need to turn around?"

"Nah," he said, walking farther down the side street before coming to a stop next to a narrow space between two buildings. "We'll take a detour."

Sarah looked down the alleyway—if it could even be called that—dubiously. It was incredibly narrow, to the point where they'd have to walk single file through it, which was not an appealing idea to her. Even less appealing was the complete lack of light; the alley was covered by construction awnings, effectively blocking out even the weak light from the apartment windows above. She could see about three feet into the space; beyond that it was pitch black.

"You're joking," she said.

"This will take us almost all the way over to your apartment."

"But there's no light. I can't see anything."

"Sounds hard," he said dryly.

"I—okay—very funny," she said, glaring at him. "I'm serious, I do not want to go down there."

Matt sighed and tipped his head back against the brick wall, looking exasperated. "Okay. You don't have to. But I'm going down there."

She looked at him suspiciously. "You're the one who insisted on walking me home, I know you aren't going to just leave me here."

He tilted his head and slowly took a few steps back into the dark alley. "Are you sure?"

"Matt!" she whispered loudly as he started to disappear into the shadows. "You cannot seriously want us to go that way. There could be serial killers in there."

"You really think there are multiple mass murderers in this tiny alley?" Matt asked. Sarah just shrugged. "All I ever run into down this alleyway is the occasional homeless person."

"That's not any better. Foggy and I stole that shopping cart from a homeless person not too long ago. We're probably on some sort of list."

"I don't think homeless people really organize themselves that way," Matt pointed out, before stepping back out of the shadows and towards her. "I promise there is no one anywhere near this alleyway but us."

"Is—is that supposed to make me feel better or worse?" she asked tentatively.

"Look, this is the only other route that doesn't require climbing over rooftops, which you've already made clear that you don't want to do," he said. "You'll be fine. Just follow me."

If Sarah's phone wasn't close to dying, she would have brought it out to use it as a flashlight. Instead, she repressed a frustrated sigh and took a few steps forward until she was behind him. He quickly disappeared into the shadows of the small alleyway, and she followed.

The trip did not go well. Sarah didn't like the way the walls felt like they were closing in on her, and she tripped over objects or stepped on gross sounding mystery items almost constantly.

She squinted ahead of her, thinking that Matt had moved off to the left. She did the same, and ended up tripping over something that made a loud clattering noise, echoing off the walls of the alleyway. The vigilante came to a halt ahead of her.

"Sorry, sorry," she whispered.

Matt sighed, then stepped off to the side. "Switch with me."

"What?"

"It'll be easier to guide you through if you go first. Then you wont trip over every paint can and trash bag we come across."

Sarah wrinkled her nose at the jab, but had to admit he was right. Reluctantly, she slipped past him, brushing against him in the narrow alleyway. Once she was in front of him, he put his hand on her upper right arm. His other hand hovered over her left arm, but he apparently couldn't find a spot that was free of bruises, so instead he placed his hand lightly on her waist. She jumped slightly, caught off guard by the contact. Matt didn't say anything, just gave her a light push to get her to start walking forward.

At first she was hesitant, worried that she'd run into something, especially now that Matt's hand on her arm made it difficult for her to put both hands out in front of her as a shield. But true to his word, he guided her safely through the alley, gently steering her around things that she couldn't see, but that he must have been able to sense.

"This is a fabulous shortcut, Matt," she mumbled. "There are probably rats in here."

"There are definitely rats in here, actually. I can hear them."

"What?" she exclaimed. Her back hit his chest as she stumbled to a halt and squinted at the ground for signs of rodent movement, but Matt continued propelling her along firmly.

"You've had a mouse living in your apartment for weeks now; how can you possibly be scared of a few rats?"

"That's one tiny mouse," she argued. "And he's small and cute, and I can always see where he is. A pack of giant street rats swarming around in the dark are a different story. What if one touches my foot and I get the plague?"

Matt laughed, so quietly that she wouldn't have caught it if she couldn't feel his breath close to her ear. "I think you'll manage. Just think about something else. Did anything else happen while you were at work?"

Sarah wondered how she was supposed to think about anything other than being stuck in a pitch black alleyway with a vigilante's hand on her waist and rats potentially covering the ground, but she struggled to get her mind off the subject anyway. The only thing that stood out to her from the day was the way Jason had creepily wiped her blood on his white tie—not an image she really wanted to think about at the moment. But she told Matt about it anyway, just to have something to discuss.

"Doesn't that seem kind of psychotic?" she finished.

"I'd say so," Matt said, sounding disturbed.

"Exactly. And I mean, if you think it's psychotic—" Sarah faltered awkwardly when she realized how her words sounded. She hoped he hadn't caught it, but of course, she had no such luck.

"I'm sorry, what?" His voice was close to her ear, and he sounded darkly amused.

"I mean, not that you're...psychotic," she backtracked. "Just that, you know, your threshold for psychotic stuff might be, um, higher than—most people's—"

He steered her to the right slightly sharper than was strictly necessarily, and she stumbled a tiny bit, although his grip on her arm and waist kept her from actually falling.

"Friendly reminder that you did say you'd be on your best behavior," she said nervously.

"That's true. But to be fair, I never specified how good my best behavior is."

"Matt..."

"Be a shame if you whacked your head on a fire escape."

Sarah looked back at him in alarm, but obviously couldn't see his face in the dark. "I can't tell if you're joking."

"Good."

"This is not helping make you seem less psychotic," she mumbled.

But Matt didn't steer her into any fire escapes or other painful objects, and within a couple of minutes they were at the end of the narrow alleyway. When they emerged, she was surprised to see that they actually were very close to her apartment building; only about a block away.

Sarah took a deep breath of fresh air. She never thought that she would consider the air in Hell's Kitchen to be fresh, but compared to the dank alley they had just been in, this was like an open meadow. She couldn't imagine how bad parts of the city must stink to someone with a super enhanced sense of smell.

"That was kind of a terrifying shortcut. I mean, I appreciate you walking me home. But maybe next time I could just text you when I get home safely, like normal people?" she asked, half joking. She winced when she realized that might be a stupid suggestion. "Or—I mean—I don't know if you can text, I guess."

Matt looked mildly offended by the suggestion, although it was difficult to tell under the mask.

"I'm blind; I'm not eighty," he said. "There are phone apps I can use to send text messages."

"Well, I know that. It's just that you use a flip phone that I think is from the nineteen nineties, so I didn't know if it was able to do that. But being able to text you would be a lot easier than always having to call you."

Matt frowned in confusion, and Sarah realized that they were talking about two different phones. "Oh. Right. No, I...I can't read texts on my burner phone."

"Oh. Okay. Well, nevermind," Sarah said awkwardly, looking down. "I can just call you if I need you."

Matt's frown didn't disappear. He seemed to be debating something, so Sarah stayed quiet and looked up at some of the windows they were passing by. After a few minutes of walking in silence Matt suddenly stopped, turning to her. When he didn't speak right away, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

"What...what are you doing?" she asked finally.

He tipped his head back for a moment, almost as if he was looking up at the sky, before exhaling deeply and facing her again. "Do you have your phone on you?"

Sarah pulled her phone out of her pocket slowly, raising an eyebrow at him. "Are you...stealing my phone because yours is old?"

"No. I'm—I'm giving you my real number," he said reluctantly. "For my actual cell phone."

Sarah blinked at him in surprise. "Like your...Matt Murdock cell phone?"

"Yeah," he said warily. "That one. If you need to text me, use this number. Don't send me anything incriminating."

She nodded and brought up the contacts screen to save his number, typing in the digits he told her. The bright light of her screen lit both of their faces with an eerie blue-ish light from below, making Matt look especially similar to the devil his name evoked.

"Can I can save this one as your actual name? Since it's your day phone?" she asked uncertainly. Matt paused, then jerked his head begrudgingly, which she took as a yes.

"Good, because there's no lawyer Emoji."

"What?"

"Nothing. What am I supposed you text you about if I can't say anything incriminating? The weather?"

"Just...don't use names or specifics. Preferably don't use it at all unless you need to."

Sarah nodded quickly in agreement as she typed his name in. She was almost one hundred percent positive that she would never actually contact him on his day phone; it seemed just a bit too familiar, like she'd be crossing a line. When she looked up, he was already continuing down the alleyway a few steps ahead of her.