no time to waste on

“I can’t believe you’re finally letting me meet this man friend of yours,” Foggy says gleefully, handing her a bottle of bourbon. There’s still a bit of snow dusting his shoulders from outside, and she rolls her eyes as she shuts the door and points to the hook on the wall for his coat. He’s been talking about this dinner all week, trying to trip her up by asking little details when she’s distracted to try and get more (see: any) info.“Promise me you’ll behave,” she begs, because she’s not above that. Not when her nerves are already fried. Not when she’s on negative hours of sleep trying to plan the logistics of what’s about to happen.Foggy is going to meet her boyfriend.