“That sounds like a useful contact,” Amora replied, asking no more further questions. If Daredevil was unwilling to divulge who this nurse was, she supposed it was of little consequence. “I suspect we’ll have more fun patching up any theoretical wounds together, Daredevil,” she said flirtatiously, trailing her fingers down his arm. He listened to her with rapt attention, and his questions further proved his captivation with her. “I’m from California, but my parents were enamoured with Spain,” she explained, lying easily. “Amora means love in Spanish,” she finished, grateful that she’d bothered researching what her name signified on Midgard. “How did you choose your moniker, handsome?”
Her grasp on time wasn’t harsh, cutting, as it had been with some thralls in the past. It was like tendrils, caressing his psyche, inspiring new instincts within him. As he rushed into action, Amora stepped forward, observing him from the edge of their perch.
Daredevil’s blows were harsh, unafraid of severely injuring his adversaries. That was what she desired, a man who was unafraid of getting his hands dirty, a wicked opponent, fearless. She observed with a conniving smile on her face, relishing in his movements, and the ripple of his muscles beneath the red spandex. When he spoke, she hopped off the ledge, knowing he would panic about her safety. Her secret would go no further, Amora was confident, not while Daredevil was enamoured. “You were incredible,” she replied. “I’ve never enjoyed a display so thoroughly. Where did you learn to fight like that?”
Contact with Amora better resembled nips of static electricity than a simple touch to his suit. The fact that he felt her straight through the leather would usually provoke an inquiry, but Matt was a little...distracted at the moment, to say the least.
Her name rolled off her tongue as his did, making him smile. In Matt’s job, eloquence was a virtue. In Matt’s personal life, a voice went a long way into shaping his way of seeing someone. Dulcet tones, a gesture that was unlike any other woman’s—Matt was very distracted. “What brings you so far east?” He had to ask.
“In all honesty, I didn’t pick it,” Matt admitted, momentarily amused. “Some genius reporter put it on a headline and it stuck.” Having no name at all would’ve made the criminal underworld even more anxious, but Matt supposed some things couldn’t be helped.
She joined him below, startlingly fast. Concern warred with curiosity, but her heartbeat never changed. Her breathing stayed the same. The only difference between before and now was that she was smiling again. He was sure of it. “Do you go looking for fights often?” He wondered, unable to hide the teasing note from his voice, nor the investigative tendency to unearth any available details. The curiosity over her skill vanished before Matt noticed. “From old friends of mine, actually. Stick,” he explained, “and Natasha. I learned from the best.”
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