[ Matt always thought he was pretty clever, using a mask and dressing all in black to disguise himself on his night-time strolls. He'd fooled Foggy enough on plenty occasions anyway, and no one on the streets of Hell's Kitchen even has a name for who or what he is — or maybe it's all just what he assumes because the anonymity allows him to keep doing this night after night, moving in the silence of the shadows without a name attached to it.

This is probably the most exposed he's ever been, one of his very last secrets laid bare now in Wanda's tiny kitchen. But of course it would be with Wanda. It should be. Who else knows him better than he knows himself? Who else has seen him grow up from the quiet, struggling blind kid to the lanky teen, to the guy who decided he wanted to go to law school and worked his ass off to get there? It's not fair that the secret should come to light this way, though; and he's self-aware enough to know how much of an asshole move it probably is to be here.

But what other choice did he have?

He's still breathing hard when she pulls the fabric from his face so that the light in the kitchen hits him square on. He can't exactly see the fixture itself but he knows it's there, he can hear the buzzing from the bulb and the warmth of it burns bright in his vision of red, hazey hellfire. The pupils in his eyes, devoid of any real 'sight', shift, but as usual remain unfocused.

He stifles a quiet grunt. ]

Some guys, they got the jump on me. It's no big deal. [ — said as he winces, trying to move in his prone position, and proving just how 'no big deal' it is. Really. ] I had to get away. [ He pauses to catch a tight breath. ] I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go.