Matt doesn't seem self-conscious at all about the expressions on his own face, offering smiles and keeping his chin up, leaving himself open and approachable. Cisco's not sure he'd be able to do that himself, if he lost his sight, be that available without being able to see the reactions of the people he was interacting with. Again Cisco isn't sure how long Matt's been blind, and he knows people are resilient, at least most of the time. Matt doesn't let his disability define him, and Cisco isn't going to let his curiosity get in the way of whatever might be developing between them. Someday he'll ask Matt what happened, he'll find out all the ways Matt's life is different, and maybe he'll even learn how he can fit into that. But for now he's just going to be a guy on something that might almost be a date with someone he's just met, someone he likes a lot already.
When Matt takes his hand his heart skips a beat, and he takes a sharp little breath at the feeling of it, butterflies. But it isn't just that, and the niggling beginning of a headache blooms into a full migraine as the room flickers out in a flash of blue light, the wind rushing out of his lungs. He's alone in an alley, it's dark, but suddenly there's a noise at the other end, a figure, running. It rushes past Cisco and he turns, and just as the figure turns to run out the other side, a man catches him, takes him down. The man's dressed all in red, a red suit, familiar and not all at once, and Cisco says the first thing that comes to his mind as he's shaken back out of the vision, whispering Barry.
Cisco inhales as the warmth of the room rushes back, blinking past the throbbing that splits through the center of his skull. "I, um. Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew," he apologizes, trying to shake it off calmly, squeezing Matt's hand in his own. "Anyway, it looks like there are two porters on tap," he goes on, focusing on the tap handles as the pain in his head starts to dissipate. "One of them is a vanilla porter, if you like stuff like that. I usually do myself."
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When Matt takes his hand his heart skips a beat, and he takes a sharp little breath at the feeling of it, butterflies. But it isn't just that, and the niggling beginning of a headache blooms into a full migraine as the room flickers out in a flash of blue light, the wind rushing out of his lungs. He's alone in an alley, it's dark, but suddenly there's a noise at the other end, a figure, running. It rushes past Cisco and he turns, and just as the figure turns to run out the other side, a man catches him, takes him down. The man's dressed all in red, a red suit, familiar and not all at once, and Cisco says the first thing that comes to his mind as he's shaken back out of the vision, whispering Barry.
Cisco inhales as the warmth of the room rushes back, blinking past the throbbing that splits through the center of his skull. "I, um. Sorry, I thought I saw someone I knew," he apologizes, trying to shake it off calmly, squeezing Matt's hand in his own. "Anyway, it looks like there are two porters on tap," he goes on, focusing on the tap handles as the pain in his head starts to dissipate. "One of them is a vanilla porter, if you like stuff like that. I usually do myself."