Matt wonders if she’s literal about the shooting him part if he doesn’t cut it. Could be. They were pretty upfront about how dead serious they were about results here. Hearing it from his own handler only drives it home and he had to admit, there’s a split second where he wonders if he made a mistake and he should’ve committed to the standard defense attorney route instead of Hydra.
“Well, I’d prefer if you didn’t shoot me in the first few days, if that means anything. I’d hope it takes a little longer than that to come to a decision if I’m Hydra material,” Matt says, aware that it doesn’t and maybe he could hear her coming with a gun but there’s a limit to his reaction time, how many weapons he can keep track of by smell and hearing. He manages to bite back the next questions – clones, really? - and instead aims for keeping it professional, distanced, “Since I’m your first, it looks like we’re both testing things out. If you can whip blind guy into shape, anyone else should be easy.”
He hopes. Mostly he hopes he makes it through the week.
Matt can tell generally when someone – ie Sarah – is checking him out. It usually doesn’t happen at close range like this because out in civilian life people avoid looking at him; usually it’s a quick glance and then the oh, he’s blind, I better not make a scene as if he can see it and that’s it. Sarah, though. She’s studying him, the rustling of fingers against her shirt telling him she’s got her hand on her waist, hip to the side. So she’s a clone. Matt can say he’s never met a clone that he knows of – if she hadn’t mentioned it, he wouldn’t have known she was a clone. That clone thing is a whole new can of worms there he’d love to dig deeper into if the circumstances were different. For now Matt files it away and finishes stripping.
By now he’s down to his underwear, the rest of his suit and shoes neatly folded and set off to the side. The training clothes are loose and functional, the material a course cotton that his heightened tactile sense doesn’t care for. He gets dressed with almost no fumbling around unfamiliar clothes a normal blind man would have. It doesn’t escape his notice that they didn’t give him boots – Sarah, on the other hand, definitely has a pair from the sound of her stride. He assumes that’s on purpose, to leave the trainee off balance, a warning not to get cocky. He figures she’ll be going for his bare feet with her boots when they spar.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2016-04-14 08:36 am (UTC)“Well, I’d prefer if you didn’t shoot me in the first few days, if that means anything. I’d hope it takes a little longer than that to come to a decision if I’m Hydra material,” Matt says, aware that it doesn’t and maybe he could hear her coming with a gun but there’s a limit to his reaction time, how many weapons he can keep track of by smell and hearing. He manages to bite back the next questions – clones, really? - and instead aims for keeping it professional, distanced, “Since I’m your first, it looks like we’re both testing things out. If you can whip blind guy into shape, anyone else should be easy.”
He hopes. Mostly he hopes he makes it through the week.
Matt can tell generally when someone – ie Sarah – is checking him out. It usually doesn’t happen at close range like this because out in civilian life people avoid looking at him; usually it’s a quick glance and then the oh, he’s blind, I better not make a scene as if he can see it and that’s it. Sarah, though. She’s studying him, the rustling of fingers against her shirt telling him she’s got her hand on her waist, hip to the side. So she’s a clone. Matt can say he’s never met a clone that he knows of – if she hadn’t mentioned it, he wouldn’t have known she was a clone. That clone thing is a whole new can of worms there he’d love to dig deeper into if the circumstances were different. For now Matt files it away and finishes stripping.
By now he’s down to his underwear, the rest of his suit and shoes neatly folded and set off to the side. The training clothes are loose and functional, the material a course cotton that his heightened tactile sense doesn’t care for. He gets dressed with almost no fumbling around unfamiliar clothes a normal blind man would have. It doesn’t escape his notice that they didn’t give him boots – Sarah, on the other hand, definitely has a pair from the sound of her stride. He assumes that’s on purpose, to leave the trainee off balance, a warning not to get cocky. He figures she’ll be going for his bare feet with her boots when they spar.