"I've read the security officers' full reports, looked through all the security footage from the hotel housing the jury and the security footage for the courtroom— which was incredibly difficult to get, by the way. I had to fill out a bunch of paperwork, and I mean a bunch. So much that-"

"Foggy. Focus," Matt said, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Right," Foggy said. He rubbed his eyes. "Anyway, I searched through everything—and I mean everything—and none of the jurors have any phones."

That gave Matt a pause. "What about cameras?"

"No cameras either, man."

Matt's brow scrunched together. He took his hand from Foggy's shoulder and began to pace. "Are you sure?"

"Positive! Do that creepy listening-to-people's-heartbeat thing if you don't believe me! See if I'm lying," Foggy suggested defensively.

"I believe you," Matt said instantly in reassurance. He stopped pacing and frowned. He had been so sure… "Maybe I was mistaken."

"Or maybe they're just really good at hiding it," Foggy said darkly, sounding as if he was trying hard to keep his voice serious and mysterious but unintentionally allowing some excitement to sneak through.

Matt raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Foggy looked over his shoulder. They were standing at the very end of an abandoned hallway. If anyone saw them talking they'd probably assume they were just chatting about their plans for the trial. Or maybe they'd think Matt got lost and Foggy was helping him. People tend to think that a lot.

"Look, if you said you heard it, then you heard it," Foggy said, lowering his voice. He bit his lip, sucked in a deep breath, and continued. "I believe you. All this proves is that they know how to avoid getting caught. That makes them dangerous."

"True…"

Foggy dug through his large stack of papers, pulling out a sheet from a manilla folder. He flipped it open. "And just listen to this-" he tapped his fingers against the papers rapidly. "Everyday at five in the afternoon, a juror named Amy Blake takes a smoke break outside."

"So? That's allowed."

"Yeah, but then I checked the security cameras. Not once have the cameras recorded her at any of the designated smoking areas. In fact," Foggy lowered his voice dramatically. Matt scrunched his brow. "the cameras haven't recorded her anywhere during that hour. She completely disappears."

Matt blinked. "Like… she turns invisible?"

"What? No." Foggy scowled. He ran a hand through his long hair and sighed. "What I'm saying is that she goes somewhere without security cameras."

"Ohhh."

Foggy rolled his eyes, huffing loudly. "And an hour would be more than enough time for her to pass on any information," he added desperately. Matt shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I don't know, Foggy…."

"And this is the same woman that you said had the secret camera," Foggy said, sounding like he was waiting for Matt to freak out about this exciting piece of evidence he had been holding back. He grinned and shook the papers in his hand for effect.

Matt frowned.

It could mean something, but it could also mean nothing. His hand dropped down to his watch; he felt the numbers.

3:45 p.m.

If he wanted to check it out, he certainly had the time.

"How come you haven't high fived me yet?"

Matt sighed and shook his head. "It's awfully suspicious, I'll admit. But…"

"But what? Come on! Do you know how long it took me to put all this together?" Foggy groaned in exasperation. He threw his hands into the air. "I really think we're onto something here!"

"It wouldn't hurt looking into," Matt said slowly, rubbing his chin.

"Thank you!" Foggy said, maybe a bit louder and a bit harsher than needed.

Matt hesitated before he added, "but… I'm going to tell Jack."

Foggy froze, the papers falling from his hands and scattering across the floor. His smile fell faster than the papers. "I'm sorry, what?!" he hissed. He looked at Matt as if he had grown another head.

"He's the other lawyer on this case," Matt said defensively, very pointedly not looking at Foggy. He kept his head angled down towards the ground. "If we have suspicions about one of the members of the jury, he deserves to know."

"Matt. Buddy. Pal," Foggy said, sounding somewhat condescending. "I think you might have hit your head on your last patrol. This is Jack we're talking about. He doesn't care about anybody but himself. He's not going to listen to you!"

"He deserves to know, Foggy," said Matt. He tossed his cane into his other hand and shrugged, turning to look at Foggy. It didn't really matter what direction his eyes were pointed, to be honest, as he had 360-degree echolocation, but Foggy seemed to take him more seriously when he was "looking" at him. "And who knows," Matt added hopefully, "he might listen."

"Twenty bucks says you're wrong," Foggy sighed, relenting. He bent down and scooped up some of the discarded papers.

Matt smirked, grabbed the folder next to his foot and handed it to his friend.

"Deal."

"Jack, you have to listen to me," Matt groaned. He rubbed his face, knocking his glasses askew.

"No. I don't," Jack said smugly. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, that smug little smirk he always had prominent on his face.

Matt really wanted to punch it off. Matt really, really, really, wanted to punch it off.

But, alas, there were laws. Not to mention how Matt would have to explain how he could "see" Jacks smirk in first place.

Matt took a deep breath in. This was not going as planned.

But then again, when did anything go as planned?

The breakroom the two of them were in was stuffy and hot; Matt was able to intercept Jack as he was trying to make a cup of coffee. He explained his suspicions about Blake (conveniently leaving out the superpowers stuff) in the hopes of getting Jack on board to help look into it.

Jack, of course, was being his usual narcissistic, unhelpful self.

Matt took another deep breath in as Jack tapped the rim of his empty mug in a slow, repetitive, irritating manner.

"There's something going on here," Matt said calmly. He kept his voice quiet and level.

"The only thing that's going on is that you're getting cold feet, Murdock," Jack scoffed. He stopped tapping on his mug. Matt silently sighed a breath of relief; it was about to drive him insane. "A member of the jury is acting suspicious? Really?"

"Just listen," Matt pleaded. The coffee machine started beeping, causing Matt to flinch in surprise. Jack snorted.

"No, Murdock. You listen." Jack reached for the coffee jug and poured the boiling liquid into his cup. "You might not know this, but when members of a jury are being chosen, they go through this little thing called a background check. A background check is where people are checked to see if they're bad people. Do you understand?" Jack spoke slowly and patronizingly, as if he was speaking to a child.

The urge to connect Matt's fist to Jack's jaw intensified.

"I know what a background check is, Jack," Matt muttered.

"Good. At least you know something," Jack snorted. He poured a stevia packet into his drink and slowly stirred it with a plastic spoon. Matt pressed his lips together.

"Jack-"

"Hey, you're scared. I get it," Jack laughed. "You realize you're going to lose the case, and you think that if you try planting doubts in my mind about a juror then I'll be too distracted to give a proper case and you'll win.' Jack grinned and took a slow sip of his drink. He made a face when it burned his tongue, opened the freezer, and dropped three ice cubes into his coffee. Matt scowled. What kind of mad man puts ice in his coffee? It'll make it all watered down and gross.

It took Matt a minute to realize that Jack was, in fact, still speaking. "A clever game, really," Jack was sayin, nodding his head slowly. "I didn't think you'd be able to think up something like that, Murdock."

Matt blinked and grimaced. "That is not what's happening here," he argued.

"Then what is?" Jack snapped, tossing his empty stevia packet and plastic spoon towards the trash and missing. Jack ignored it and Matt pretended not to notice.

"I am trying to warn you," Matt said through gritted teeth. His grip on his cane tightened.

"Warn me about what?" Jack took a long sip from his coffee. Matt looked at him incredulously. Did Jack really just ignore everything he had said?

"The ju-"

"Whatever, Murdock." Jack rudely cut him off, waving a hand dramatically. "You just worry about your case, and I'll worry about mine. Okay? How does that work? Good? Good!"

Jack took his coffee and his stupid personality and started walking towards the door. "I'm leaving now, if you couldn't tell."

"Ja-"

"You know, it is odd. I never took you for a coward," Jack said, stopping halfway out the door and looking at Matt oddly. "Teacher's pet? Yes. Suck up? Definitely. A total nerd? One hundred percent. A complete and utter idiot? Absolutely. But never a coward."

"Jack."

"I'll catch you later, Murdock. It's unprofessional for the defense and prosecution to be talking like this."

Before Matt could say anything else he was gone.

Matt stood still for a minute, alone in the small break room. He sighed, a deep tired sigh, before scooping up Jack's discarded trash on the ground and properly throwing it away.

Well, shoot.

Matt owed Foggy twenty bucks.