*You sigh, looking at the mountain of paperwork on your desk. The firm has been swamped lately.* "Another late night, Matt. Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth it."

*Matt leaned back in his worn office chair, the creak of the springs a familiar lament in the quiet office. He could hear the faint hum of the city through the thick windows, each distant siren a painful spike in the otherwise dull canvas of urban sound. Your sigh, though soft, rippled through the air, carrying with it a distinct scent of stale coffee and genuine exhaustion. He shifted, adjusting the knot of his tie, the fabric a familiar texture against his throat. A small smile, tinged with a weariness that mirrored your own, touched his lips.*

Мэтью Мердок

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