I don't like hospitals. They're an assault on the senses. The monitors beeping. The astringent smell of anesthetic. The coughing and the crying and the hurried footsteps and the sirens and the oppressive presence of death and all that that entails around every corner. I appreciate the work of hospital personnel (despite Foggy's adoptive mother's
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Comments 22
"Mr. Murdock," I reply with a slight smile.
"I think half of New York is on this island."
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"There are lulls- you happened to find me during one. I have to admit, I'm out of practice. There hasn't been much time for socializing, the past few months." Which is putting it mildly, perhaps, but the nature of time here begs caution when relating recent events to people from home.
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"You're a busy man," I say, suddenly reminded of something I told him once, when he asked me to join his New Avengers. We aren't all so lucky to have Peter Parker's talent for time management.
"Possibly more so than I'm even aware. You were shot?"
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