Her parents are surprisingly humorless. Or rather, they’re funny without realizing that they are or trying to be. Midge showing up drunk with her date, also drunk, probably wouldn’t go over well.
“You’re the sort that likes to go on an adventure, aren’t you?” Midge says with amusement. She’s rather used to the typical bars and restaurants and clubs, but she could be open to something different. “You know,” she continues, “I’m kind of in the mood for pancakes.”
Foggy tosses his hands up in a gentle surrender. "Guilty as charged, your honor. I am both in the mood for pancakes and also adventure. But I am open to pancakes being the adventure. And if you think we can't turn pancakes into adventure, you are in for a treat."
To wit, he tosses back what's left of his drink in one go and stands, offering his hand. He is, by all rights, the most fiddly and overworked "lazy" man, who expresses his leisure with boundless energy. It's not unlike burning the candle at both ends, except he's just holding two flame to the middle.
"I'm an ad-libber. I can plan ahead, but I do my best work on the move." Even in the courtroom, it's when he tosses out his prepared words that he makes the biggest impression.
“Okay, then.” Midge is admittedly curious about how the diner down the block can become an adventure, but she’s willing to wait and see.
Similarly, she downs her martini, then takes Foggy’s hand and stands up. “Just let me get my coat and purse,” she tells him before disappearing into the employees only part of the club.
She returns with her coat, hat and purse about five minutes later and puts her hand on Foggy’s arm. “Alright,” she says. “Take me on an adventure.”
The diner up the street is as impressive as suggested and Foggy feels grateful to sop up some of the alcohol with the fluffy plate of pancakes. Now that he's made it through the initial part of the evening — the hard part — he finds that he wants to reach for clarity, to be able to catalog this experience with Midge and keep it instead of letting it drift through him like weak beer.
Her wit is sharp and quick but Midge he finds possesses a softness that appeals to him. She doesn't spare he mind, but when she speaks it's for other people as much as herself. New York has always been on the forefront, but in recent years Foggy has not felt the same pride in the city as he once had, especially seeing how resistant some are to the changes around them.
People simply ask to be counted and seen, but those with the most always resist.
At times Foggy feels he's part of the problem as a member of an elite class of paid consultants who value connections and money over ethics or morals, but even within his own peer network he's known for promoting good work over anything else. In fact, Marci Stahl, one of the most successful lawyers in New York, happens to be not only an ex of Foggy's, but also one of the loudest voices of feminism in the industry. When Marci succeeded, Foggy stood behind her, not in front. He vocally approved of her skills the same way he did Matt's, and it never mattered to him that she wore a high heels and skirts to do it. Hell, to Foggy that simply added to the challenge and he often wondered when other men were being crass about her if they'd have the same impact on a jury if they were smooshing their toes into high-heeled shoes during closing arguments.
He doesn't need to tell Midge any of this, but he advertises it in how he allows her carte blanche. Nothing is off the table and the only scandal Foggy presents relates to how quickly his coffee mug empties. In reality, time is passing so quickly because he's having such a great time. He hardly notices how long it's been and looks utterly flabbergasted when the waitress appears with a note.
"Kicking us out already, Phyllis?" When he asks, he gives her a tired grin. He's only just met her but he knows he name and treats her life family. She scoffs and pats his arm, amused.
"You've got a call, hon," she tells him, gesturing to the headset off the hook behind the counter. "I'll have you warmed up when you get back."
Foggy turns to look at the phone as the waitress leaves, eyebrows knitting. He can only think of one person who would have tracked him down here and if Matt's calling, something's wrong.
His stomach dumps into his shoes but he tells himself not to panic, not to make a scene. It would help if his body could get the message, but he's taken on an obvious pallor that Foggy can't do much to hide.
"I'd better see what that's about," he tells her, reaching across the table to grab her hand and squeeze it apologetically before sliding out of the booth. While the receiver's to his ear, he looks sincere and concerned. He'll probably be talking for at least a minute or two, eventually scribbling an address onto a nearby ticket book with large block letters.
Similarly, Midge is glad to sit down and eat with him. He seems more relaxed in the diner and it gives the two of them a chance to really talk to each other. She wants to get to know him, not just hook up with him.
He’s charming, intelligent, funny, and seems to enjoy allowing her to speak her mind. That’s sometimes a rare find in men, but it’s a must for any man who is going to be with her. Midge is not the silent type when it comes to her opinions. She was always vocal; now she’s gone public with them. Foggy doesn’t seem to mind that at all.
It’s disappointing when it seems like Phyllis is going to kick them out because this is one of the best dates Midge has been on in a long time. She can’t believe how long they’ve been sitting here talking.
The phone call is… odd. Who even knows that they’re here? Midge watches across the diner as Foggy takes the call, his face looking more worried by the minute.
“Who was that?” Midge asks after he returns to the table. “Is something wrong?”
Foggy has already retrieved his wallet and he's sporting the appropriately apologetic expression intermingled with his own concern. He places down enough money to cover what they've had — generous tip and all — and frowns at Midge.
"It's Matt," he says, voice quiet and sober. "He's been— arrested," Foggy adds, grimacing. Of course Matt's one call is going to be to his best friend, now his attorney. He had known that Foggy was meeting Midge at the club and from there the relay of information had pointed towards the diner. He'd been appropriately apologetic himself, but it doesn't stop Foggy from feeling somewhat at a loss for these next few moments.
He chews his lip. "I'm going to need to see him, but—" Foggy hesitates. He doesn't allow himself to stop. "Would you want to come with me? I know it's not glamorous, but I'm not quite ready for our night together to end..."
There’s obvious surprise on Midge’s face at Foggy’s words. Of all things, that’s not what she was expecting to hear. If this is indeed a date, jail isn’t usually where Midge would want it to end up, but she’s come this far. She’s loathe to see their night end as well.
“Yeah, I’ll come.” Midge puts her coat on. She’s honestly a little bit worried about Matt. “It’ll be nice to be on the other side of the bars for once.”
Hopefully Foggy won’t mind her trying to lighten the mood. It’s what she does.
It does help, although Foggy feels guilty that they've been interrupted when he was having such a good time. It makes him that much more self-conscious, that much more frustrated with himself that when Matt calls, Foggy is beholden to respond. That's what good friends do, yes, but on the one night where Foggy is with this beautiful woman? The woman that Matt set him up with? It feels a little too selfish, even if he knows Matt wouldn't have called if it weren't important.
"Sounds like you guys have all the fun," he tells her, a thin smile of amusement gracing his soft features. "I've never been to jail, but that doesn't mean it's not on my bucket list." Would he purposefully get himself tossed in jail? Hell no. But if he happened to get collared while being wrapped up in a bar fight or something, he wouldn't cry about having that experience.
"It helps with clients sometimes that a lawyer can empathize," he notes, "But I'm sure that's not why Matt's done it. He probably got harassed by some jerk for being blind and popped him in the face or something. It's just going to take a little finagling."
Somehow Foggy remains positively upbeat about the strangest things.
“You want to go to jail?” Midge asks with a huff of a laugh. “I’ve never been in there for more than a few hours, but trust me, it’s not a party.”
She takes Foggy’s arm as they leave the diner. Tonight is turning out to be more of an adventure than she bargained for.
“It’s nice that you want to empathize with your clients, but jail’s a pain in the ass. Did Matt say where he is?”
Do they need to catch a cab or can they walk? If Matt punched someone for making fun of his disability, Midge hopes the other guy’s in the hospital. That’s one of the only places that can be worse than jail.
Foggy is intimately familiar with how very un-partylike jail and prison happens to be. He spends a lot of time keeping people out of those spaces because even a guilty individuals will struggle in general population, and with the way the justice system has become an increasing mockery of the institution, it's hard enough to keep they money from corrupting it all in the favor of overcrowding and over-prosecution.
"He's not far," Foggy says, reaching to squeeze her hand where he's held onto him. He doesn't feel particularly worried — Matt's a survivor — but he knows the majority of the world sees him as a blind guy we probably needs more help than he lets on. (Of course, it's not untrue, but it's got nothing to do with Matt's blindness and everything to do with Matt having entirely too many aspirations for so few hands and so little capital.
"You okay with the subway? Three stops will get us close enough," he adds, figuring that gives her a good enough idea of how off course they'll end up.
“Sure,” she replies. Her mother would probably balk at the idea of her on the subway at night, but she’s with Foggy. He’s no Sugar Ray, but Midge thinks he could hold his own if someone tried to attack them. He’d probably try to talk them out of it and would probably succeed.
The two of them reach the entrance to the subway and hurry down the stairs. The trains are deserted at this time of night. Fortunately, they only have to wait a few minutes until they get on.
“Well, Mr. Nelson,” Midge says as they sit down. “You sure know how to show a girl an interesting time.”
Pressed close, knee-to-knee, Foggy is leaned over his legs to stare down at the floor of the car. He spends a lot of time doing this back and forth business for the firm and he's gotten into the habit of just turning off to the world when he's in that space. The unwritten no one wants to be here, so keep to yourself vibe.
Midge drags him back, though, with her comment making him sit against the seat again and offer her a thin smile. He feels the tug of guilt as he looks at her. This isn't anyone's idea of a good time and he thinks that's obvious by her choice of the word interesting here. Not good, or great, or even fun. Interesting. Of interest. Something to note.
"Yeah, this is a sad excuse for a date, I know. I hope you'll let me make it up to you, Midge," Foggy says, genuinely. "This is—" He gestures at everything and nothing, a vague note for her to understand he means what's going on. "This is my life, for better or worse. It's a pretty regular occurrence that I'm forced to drop personal priorities for work, but I don't want you to think you're not important, or that I don't regret having to disappoint you."
Tentatively, he reaches for her hand, hoping to take it into his own. "And no point pretending it's not disappointing. Not everyone likes their date to turn into a side-quest. It's not my preference," Foggy admits. But he does it because it's Matt and Matt needs the support for all that he does.
Interesting doesn’t necessarily mean bad. She was having fun until Foggy got the call at the diner. Right now, she’s not not having fun, but is bailing your friend out of jail really fun?
“I don’t mind a little adventure,” Midge tells him, allowing him to take her hand in his. “But I’m also very happy to let you make this up to me.” That’s her indirect way of saying that she’d like to see him again.
If this is his life, it’s a hectic one. Her own life is rather busy between her kids and her career. Midge hopes that the two of them will have time for each other. Such a relationship seems like it would be worth it.
This is, admittedly, the unfortunate pace of a New York lawyer (who could have and probably should have been a butcher). Thankfully, Midge gets the picture and Foggy finds himself relieved and a little bit taken by the offering. Foggy certainly doesn't help in making his life easier — he could do that with a few more high profile cases (or one fewer Catholic partners) — but he's always felt better having his feet fully on the ground; a high corner office doesn't usually allow for that.
Thankfully, Foggy has a brand of local magic that stems from his good relationships around town. He doesn't take more than a few minutes to spring Matt who gets released into Foggy's care. Little worse for wear, but lacking his cane and sporting a few cuts and scrapes, he's given a firm but quiet lecture amidst his apologies and then Foggy puts him in a cab and sends him on his way.
It feels late and as he watches the taillights on the cab retreating, he turns his attention back to Midge and splays his hands.
"Not too bad, but that guy needs to get himself a few more friends with bail money," he jokes quietly, all the while looking twice as apologetic as he had earlier. "I'd call him a menace if he hadn't made this possible," Foggy adds, gesturing between the two of them before carefully and slowly stepping into her personal space. Despite the disappointments, he can't deny getting to spend any time with Midge's vibrancy is a boon. It creates a soft smile and he reaches out to sneak a grip around her hand, urging her even closer.
"You're really going to let me see you again, huh?" Because after all this, he is a bit surprised she's not at least a little put off. "I will make it up to you. No interruptions next time. Promise."
If anything, tonight served as a confirmation that she made the right choice in picking Foggy over Matt. Matt’s a very good-looking man, but his life seems like a mess. What kind of a blind man picks a fight? Foggy, by comparison, looked extremely confident as he talked up the police officers and got Matt released. He made it seem so easy, and frankly, that was very attractive.
“I know who I’m calling the next time I get arrested.” She’s joking… maybe. If she does ever call Foggy to bail her out, she’ll at least pay him back.
When he moves closer to her, she can feel her heartbeat start to pick up. “Of course,” Midge replies. “Tonight was an adventure, wasn’t it? But I’m going to hold you to that promise.”
He’s close enough for her to lean in and press her lips gently to his. It’s a bold move, but she doesn’t think he’ll mind.
Not unlike Midge, Foggy can sense the way anticipation is building within his limbs. They feel heavy, unwilling to move any direction other than nearer to this beautifully patient woman. Skin warmed by their proximity, he finds himself holding his breath a second before their lips meet.
Pressed together, lips meeting sweetly, Foggy can't help but drown in the blooming flutters tickling his insides. His mouth matches hers in enthusiasm, borrowing light pressure and searching for that perfect angle. His arms link around her and squeezes gently, lifting her and pulling her more readily against him. And when he breaks free, he's appropriately breathless, laughing and holding her still, but near-timid about how little he wants to let go.
"You made the night feel adventurous. If I would have been alone, it would have just been depressing," he says, softly. "I'm excited to see where we'll go next."
It’s a good kiss, one that sends shivers down her spine while simultaneously making her feel flushed. When he wraps his arms around her, her hands instinctively go to his chest, toying with the lapels of his jacket as they kiss. She’s reluctant to pull away except for anything other than breathing, and stays close even after they part.
“Glad I could make bailing your friend out of jail fun,” she says with a smile. “Hopefully I can have you all to myself next time though.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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“You’re the sort that likes to go on an adventure, aren’t you?” Midge says with amusement. She’s rather used to the typical bars and restaurants and clubs, but she could be open to something different. “You know,” she continues, “I’m kind of in the mood for pancakes.”
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To wit, he tosses back what's left of his drink in one go and stands, offering his hand. He is, by all rights, the most fiddly and overworked "lazy" man, who expresses his leisure with boundless energy. It's not unlike burning the candle at both ends, except he's just holding two flame to the middle.
"I'm an ad-libber. I can plan ahead, but I do my best work on the move." Even in the courtroom, it's when he tosses out his prepared words that he makes the biggest impression.
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Similarly, she downs her martini, then takes Foggy’s hand and stands up. “Just let me get my coat and purse,” she tells him before disappearing into the employees only part of the club.
She returns with her coat, hat and purse about five minutes later and puts her hand on Foggy’s arm. “Alright,” she says. “Take me on an adventure.”
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Her wit is sharp and quick but Midge he finds possesses a softness that appeals to him. She doesn't spare he mind, but when she speaks it's for other people as much as herself. New York has always been on the forefront, but in recent years Foggy has not felt the same pride in the city as he once had, especially seeing how resistant some are to the changes around them.
People simply ask to be counted and seen, but those with the most always resist.
At times Foggy feels he's part of the problem as a member of an elite class of paid consultants who value connections and money over ethics or morals, but even within his own peer network he's known for promoting good work over anything else. In fact, Marci Stahl, one of the most successful lawyers in New York, happens to be not only an ex of Foggy's, but also one of the loudest voices of feminism in the industry. When Marci succeeded, Foggy stood behind her, not in front. He vocally approved of her skills the same way he did Matt's, and it never mattered to him that she wore a high heels and skirts to do it. Hell, to Foggy that simply added to the challenge and he often wondered when other men were being crass about her if they'd have the same impact on a jury if they were smooshing their toes into high-heeled shoes during closing arguments.
He doesn't need to tell Midge any of this, but he advertises it in how he allows her carte blanche. Nothing is off the table and the only scandal Foggy presents relates to how quickly his coffee mug empties. In reality, time is passing so quickly because he's having such a great time. He hardly notices how long it's been and looks utterly flabbergasted when the waitress appears with a note.
"Kicking us out already, Phyllis?" When he asks, he gives her a tired grin. He's only just met her but he knows he name and treats her life family. She scoffs and pats his arm, amused.
"You've got a call, hon," she tells him, gesturing to the headset off the hook behind the counter. "I'll have you warmed up when you get back."
Foggy turns to look at the phone as the waitress leaves, eyebrows knitting. He can only think of one person who would have tracked him down here and if Matt's calling, something's wrong.
His stomach dumps into his shoes but he tells himself not to panic, not to make a scene. It would help if his body could get the message, but he's taken on an obvious pallor that Foggy can't do much to hide.
"I'd better see what that's about," he tells her, reaching across the table to grab her hand and squeeze it apologetically before sliding out of the booth. While the receiver's to his ear, he looks sincere and concerned. He'll probably be talking for at least a minute or two, eventually scribbling an address onto a nearby ticket book with large block letters.
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He’s charming, intelligent, funny, and seems to enjoy allowing her to speak her mind. That’s sometimes a rare find in men, but it’s a must for any man who is going to be with her. Midge is not the silent type when it comes to her opinions. She was always vocal; now she’s gone public with them. Foggy doesn’t seem to mind that at all.
It’s disappointing when it seems like Phyllis is going to kick them out because this is one of the best dates Midge has been on in a long time. She can’t believe how long they’ve been sitting here talking.
The phone call is… odd. Who even knows that they’re here? Midge watches across the diner as Foggy takes the call, his face looking more worried by the minute.
“Who was that?” Midge asks after he returns to the table. “Is something wrong?”
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"It's Matt," he says, voice quiet and sober. "He's been— arrested," Foggy adds, grimacing. Of course Matt's one call is going to be to his best friend, now his attorney. He had known that Foggy was meeting Midge at the club and from there the relay of information had pointed towards the diner. He'd been appropriately apologetic himself, but it doesn't stop Foggy from feeling somewhat at a loss for these next few moments.
He chews his lip. "I'm going to need to see him, but—" Foggy hesitates. He doesn't allow himself to stop. "Would you want to come with me? I know it's not glamorous, but I'm not quite ready for our night together to end..."
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“Yeah, I’ll come.” Midge puts her coat on. She’s honestly a little bit worried about Matt. “It’ll be nice to be on the other side of the bars for once.”
Hopefully Foggy won’t mind her trying to lighten the mood. It’s what she does.
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"Sounds like you guys have all the fun," he tells her, a thin smile of amusement gracing his soft features. "I've never been to jail, but that doesn't mean it's not on my bucket list." Would he purposefully get himself tossed in jail? Hell no. But if he happened to get collared while being wrapped up in a bar fight or something, he wouldn't cry about having that experience.
"It helps with clients sometimes that a lawyer can empathize," he notes, "But I'm sure that's not why Matt's done it. He probably got harassed by some jerk for being blind and popped him in the face or something. It's just going to take a little finagling."
Somehow Foggy remains positively upbeat about the strangest things.
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She takes Foggy’s arm as they leave the diner. Tonight is turning out to be more of an adventure than she bargained for.
“It’s nice that you want to empathize with your clients, but jail’s a pain in the ass. Did Matt say where he is?”
Do they need to catch a cab or can they walk? If Matt punched someone for making fun of his disability, Midge hopes the other guy’s in the hospital. That’s one of the only places that can be worse than jail.
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"He's not far," Foggy says, reaching to squeeze her hand where he's held onto him. He doesn't feel particularly worried — Matt's a survivor — but he knows the majority of the world sees him as a blind guy we probably needs more help than he lets on. (Of course, it's not untrue, but it's got nothing to do with Matt's blindness and everything to do with Matt having entirely too many aspirations for so few hands and so little capital.
"You okay with the subway? Three stops will get us close enough," he adds, figuring that gives her a good enough idea of how off course they'll end up.
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The two of them reach the entrance to the subway and hurry down the stairs. The trains are deserted at this time of night. Fortunately, they only have to wait a few minutes until they get on.
“Well, Mr. Nelson,” Midge says as they sit down. “You sure know how to show a girl an interesting time.”
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Midge drags him back, though, with her comment making him sit against the seat again and offer her a thin smile. He feels the tug of guilt as he looks at her. This isn't anyone's idea of a good time and he thinks that's obvious by her choice of the word interesting here. Not good, or great, or even fun. Interesting. Of interest. Something to note.
"Yeah, this is a sad excuse for a date, I know. I hope you'll let me make it up to you, Midge," Foggy says, genuinely. "This is—" He gestures at everything and nothing, a vague note for her to understand he means what's going on. "This is my life, for better or worse. It's a pretty regular occurrence that I'm forced to drop personal priorities for work, but I don't want you to think you're not important, or that I don't regret having to disappoint you."
Tentatively, he reaches for her hand, hoping to take it into his own. "And no point pretending it's not disappointing. Not everyone likes their date to turn into a side-quest. It's not my preference," Foggy admits. But he does it because it's Matt and Matt needs the support for all that he does.
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“I don’t mind a little adventure,” Midge tells him, allowing him to take her hand in his. “But I’m also very happy to let you make this up to me.” That’s her indirect way of saying that she’d like to see him again.
If this is his life, it’s a hectic one. Her own life is rather busy between her kids and her career. Midge hopes that the two of them will have time for each other. Such a relationship seems like it would be worth it.
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Thankfully, Foggy has a brand of local magic that stems from his good relationships around town. He doesn't take more than a few minutes to spring Matt who gets released into Foggy's care. Little worse for wear, but lacking his cane and sporting a few cuts and scrapes, he's given a firm but quiet lecture amidst his apologies and then Foggy puts him in a cab and sends him on his way.
It feels late and as he watches the taillights on the cab retreating, he turns his attention back to Midge and splays his hands.
"Not too bad, but that guy needs to get himself a few more friends with bail money," he jokes quietly, all the while looking twice as apologetic as he had earlier. "I'd call him a menace if he hadn't made this possible," Foggy adds, gesturing between the two of them before carefully and slowly stepping into her personal space. Despite the disappointments, he can't deny getting to spend any time with Midge's vibrancy is a boon. It creates a soft smile and he reaches out to sneak a grip around her hand, urging her even closer.
"You're really going to let me see you again, huh?" Because after all this, he is a bit surprised she's not at least a little put off. "I will make it up to you. No interruptions next time. Promise."
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“I know who I’m calling the next time I get arrested.” She’s joking… maybe. If she does ever call Foggy to bail her out, she’ll at least pay him back.
When he moves closer to her, she can feel her heartbeat start to pick up. “Of course,” Midge replies. “Tonight was an adventure, wasn’t it? But I’m going to hold you to that promise.”
He’s close enough for her to lean in and press her lips gently to his. It’s a bold move, but she doesn’t think he’ll mind.
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Pressed together, lips meeting sweetly, Foggy can't help but drown in the blooming flutters tickling his insides. His mouth matches hers in enthusiasm, borrowing light pressure and searching for that perfect angle. His arms link around her and squeezes gently, lifting her and pulling her more readily against him. And when he breaks free, he's appropriately breathless, laughing and holding her still, but near-timid about how little he wants to let go.
"You made the night feel adventurous. If I would have been alone, it would have just been depressing," he says, softly. "I'm excited to see where we'll go next."
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“Glad I could make bailing your friend out of jail fun,” she says with a smile. “Hopefully I can have you all to myself next time though.”