![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
st_aurafinaTitle: Mine is the Morning
Fandom: Daredevil (comics)
Rating: G
Notes: Spoilers up to Daredevil #93. For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
caia_comica, who requested Foggy Nelson, quiet. Thank you to lilacsigil for the beta.
Foggy came in early, on the first day in the new office, balancing a sack of groceries in the crook of his arm while he tapped the code onto the elevator keypad. The refitters had moved out yesterday, leaving nothing more than a folded dust sheet and the smell of new carpet. The office was pristine and silent, and Foggy felt like he was the first man stepping onto a new planet full of possibilities.
The heart of any successful law office lies not in its libraries or meeting rooms, but in the place where people gather to eat and drink. Foggy loaded the shelf in the lunch room with supplies: diet soda for himself, green tea for when Matt was feeling fragile or sanctimonious, and the terrifying brand of super-strength quadruple espresso that Becky used to favour as a secretary. Handicapped though he was in the fine art of woodwork, Foggy managed to screw three hooks into the underside of the shelf without impaling his hand, and hung three cups from them. The sight of the cups swinging gently in a row was exceptionally satisfying. He filled the coffee pot with water and set it brewing.
By now he could hear voices arguing in the corridor. Becky, and Matt – early for him after a night in the long-johns. Foggy breathed deeply, and savoured what was probably the last moment of peace and order that these rooms would know. Then, with a spring in his step, he walked out to meet his new team.
Fandom: Daredevil (comics)
Rating: G
Notes: Spoilers up to Daredevil #93. For
caia_comica, who requested Foggy Nelson, quiet. Thank you to lilacsigil for the beta.Foggy came in early, on the first day in the new office, balancing a sack of groceries in the crook of his arm while he tapped the code onto the elevator keypad. The refitters had moved out yesterday, leaving nothing more than a folded dust sheet and the smell of new carpet. The office was pristine and silent, and Foggy felt like he was the first man stepping onto a new planet full of possibilities.
The heart of any successful law office lies not in its libraries or meeting rooms, but in the place where people gather to eat and drink. Foggy loaded the shelf in the lunch room with supplies: diet soda for himself, green tea for when Matt was feeling fragile or sanctimonious, and the terrifying brand of super-strength quadruple espresso that Becky used to favour as a secretary. Handicapped though he was in the fine art of woodwork, Foggy managed to screw three hooks into the underside of the shelf without impaling his hand, and hung three cups from them. The sight of the cups swinging gently in a row was exceptionally satisfying. He filled the coffee pot with water and set it brewing.
By now he could hear voices arguing in the corridor. Becky, and Matt – early for him after a night in the long-johns. Foggy breathed deeply, and savoured what was probably the last moment of peace and order that these rooms would know. Then, with a spring in his step, he walked out to meet his new team.