Tea and TV
Tea and TV
It must’ve been around 8pm. It was near winter time, so everything was already dark, and Matt finished all his work for the day. Absolutely great conditions for some light exercise and crime-fighting. Matt especially liked this time of the year, as his suit was most comfortable. Steamy summer air would make the fabric stick to his skin, and everything around him like a reeking steam oven. In the dead of winter, he'd nearly freeze his limbs off, but in this limbo of weather Matt could finally relax while bashing in some miscreants face. At this rate, he could be finished in a few hours. Maybe some herbal tea and leftover stir fry, and then he could read on his next case. The weekend was one day away, so his troubles were melting like wax, even for a brief moment.
His suit was perfect for terrifying wrong-doers at this point in its wear. It was bloodied and ripped from past battles, a true emblem of his persona. He hadn't bothered to give it a thorough clean in quite a while, usually it only required some cleaner and a wipe down. Some patches were a darker red then others, and parts of the armor were dented from both knives and bullets. One glance from a burglar and surrender would follow. However, he found for the elderly, it had near zero effect.
A tiny and wrinkled woman bearing silver locks began crossing the road, a bag of groceries in hand. Out of her field of vision, a rogue car speed ahead, and was venturing closer and closer to her. However, in a nick of time Matt ran and pulled her out of the way, hardly missing the screeching vehicle. Matt thew his billy stick, which flew through the car window and against the drivers head. Matt listened to the drivers heart, making sure the injury was nothing more than a concussion.
The woman’s hands were still shaking after the incidence, adrenaline rushing through her veins. A few of her groceries had spilt out of her bag, so Matt began picking up the produce. It only took the lady a few moments to regain her composure.
“Oh dear! Thank you young man, I wish there were more people like you out there. I want to give you something, how about you get some tea at my place?” She smiled holding Matt’s hand intently. He figured going to her place would be the best course of action, he could feel his stomach grumbling and was beginning to feel rather tired himself.
Matt learnt that the woman's name was Deborah, but everyone just called her Aunt Deb. She ran a soup kitchen for the homeless and hungry down the street, and had quite the array of recipes and helpers. Once they arrived at the apartment, Matt noted that Aunt Debs place seemed quaint and homey. Matt couldn't see the interior, but he determined the atmosphere through the curved edges, old-fashioned furniture, and the different textures.
Deborah took pride in her small house, patterned curtains filtered out the urban light, adding to the atmosphere of lit candles and quilts. There were extra seats in the living and dining room, so Matt figured guests were a rather common occurrence.
It was really quite strange, standing with his brutal red armor in the middle of the coziest place in existence. And Deb was absolutely unbothered by that fact, she’d sat Matt down and served him chamomile tea in a tiny mug. It had rose and heart designs on it, rather ironic and comical Matt thought. She talked about kittens her kitty, her snobby neighbors, and her favorite people which often are at her soup kitchen. All the while, parts of his armor and lens reflected the light, and for a few moments he really did look like the devil. However, his smile seemed to make up for the petrifying cosplay.
After their tea and dinner, Matt stayed to watch Aunt Debs favorite sitcom with her. It had a laughing track in the background, which irritated Matt, as it was usually used to denote a visual comical occurrence. He wouldn't understand what was happening and why. Alas, it was only useful as it told him when to laugh alongside her. There was no way he’d tell Deb that he couldn’t see anything happen, her joy was enough to keep him entertained.
Half way through their second episode, Matt had completely fallen asleep from exhaustion, he was way more tired than he previously assumed. Perhaps the late nights were gradually getting to him. He wondered how much longer he could keep doing that, the sleepless days, the bloodied cuts and rainbow bruises. Matt was quite certain he had a sketchy amount of poorly healed broken bones and dislocated shoulders as well. God forbid he actually get a proper doctors check up.
When he woke in the morning, he was covered in a woven blanket, it’s fibers we’re soft and warm. He assumed that Aunt Deb had left to the soup kitchen, as there weren’t any other heartbeats in the three roomed apartment. So Matt did the only decent thing, he wrote her a note in the neatest font he could muster.
‘Hello Aunt Deb, thank you so much for the meal, good laughs, and a place to stay. I’ll leave my number in case you ever need any volunteers at the kitchen or a buddy to watch with!
Warm regards, Daredevil’