Tim wears his jeans, but he snags one of Matt's shirts. It's a little loose, but it's comfortable. And more importantly, it smells like him. He doesn't mind the way Matt leans into him. Unnecessary, Tim knows, because they're both sober. Too sober, as far as Tim's concerned, but that's neither here nor there. Mostly, he likes feeling Matt's warmth through his hoodie, and lies that Matt enjoys being close to him enough to do it even when he doesn't have to.

He's acutely aware of the way his heartbeat gets a little unsteady every time he catches the scent of Matt's shirt. Such an insignificant thing, really, but it has such a large affect. It's worrying, honestly. If Tim were smarter, he'd try to distance himself from Matt Murdock instead of allowing himself to get closer.

But Tim's not smarter, and so he won't. And Matt's eventual departure will hurt, but at least he'll know it's coming. It'll be a wake-up call he obviously needs.

The walk itself is fine, and it does something to work out some of the soreness of Tim's body. He probably looks wrecked, if he cared to look in a mirror. He can feel the bruising on his neck, can feel how his lips are swollen. His hair is probably all mussed, too. But it's not as if they run into anybody on the way there.

And there, apparently, is an old, run down gym. Tim doesn't even recognize it as such until they're inside and he sees the ring and all the equipment. He catches sight of the posters, sees the name Jack Murdock, and figures that can't be a coincidence.

"Always wondered how a blind lawyer got so built," he murmurs, looking away from the board and towards the ring. "You box?"