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With a shout of pain and surprise she's being kicked square in the chest. The sheer force causes her to bend forward and all the breath in her lungs to escape in a painful huff. She has no control over this situation and before she can think about anything other than how much that hurt, she's stumbling backwards off the roof.
She tries to grab onto something, the slightest hint of nail she has scratching and breaking against the building as she tries to grasp solid wall, the skin on the tips of her fingers breaking and bleeding from the rough texture. The toes of her boots are gripping nothing – she's falling too fast for any real attempt to stop this from happening and she's no Spiderman. So, before she meets the ground she closes her eyes, relaxes her body, and waits for impact.
She lands with a loud a thud and an 'oof', and once her brain catches up and she realizes she isn't in fact splattered all over the ground, but inside a dumpster, she lets out a long, drawn out groan of discomfort and displeasure.
The smell of something horrid rises up to assault her senses. She makes a face of disgust and waves a hand in the air as if that will make it go away.
She knows she should get up and go after the man, but he can wait. She'll find him again soon enough, and right now she needs to regain feeling in her side before she goes running after someone with a court order and a real dedication to leg day. And besides, this isn't as bad as she thought it would be now that she's kind of past the smell. Not as uncomfortable or lumpy as she originally thought the inside of a city dumpster would be. Maybe she got lucky and landed in some kind of rich people dumpster where they line it with padding or some shit. Whatever.
It takes her a moment, her brain still a bit foggy from the impact, but after feeling up the garbage underneath her, she's reaches the conclusion that she's not lying on top of garbage bags, but something that feels an awful lot like a human being. Her face scrunches up in confusion and she runs her hands along the thing she landed on again; just to makes sure she's not imagining things.
“As nice as that is, can you please get off me?” A voice just above her head asks, and that's all it takes to make her very certain that she landed on another person.
She startles and rolls off, groaning as her hip connects with a rather pointy bag. She tries to sit up, but after a few attempts of not being able to find her balance she stops and admits defeat, and lays back down.
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” She demands, and slaps the body next to her with the back of her hand forcefully.
The man let's out a startled noise, and grabs her wrist. She pulls it out of his grasp and hits him again, and this time the man doesn't grab it, but he does hold his hands up as if showing he isn't a threat. “I could ask you the same thing, but something tells me it's along the same reason.”
She furrows her eyebrows and turns her head to get a look at the man next to her. He's in all black with what looks to be a shirt or something over his eyes. From what she can see there are cuts on his face and body. He looks like shit. Probably came in here to die.
“Why? How'd you get in here?”
“Got my ass kicked.”
She nods, accepting the answer and looks away, directing her gaze to the polluted sky. “That's shitty.”
“And you?”
“Got my ass kicked.”
The man huffs out a strained laugh and it sounds painful. She wonders if her landing on him set him back a bit physically and mentally because he looks like complete and utter shit; being crushed was probably the last straw.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Yeah, I'll live. You?”
“I'm all right.”
“That's good.”
The man moves, a hiss of pain escaping his lips, and she watches him carefully, making sure he's not trying to get up. If he wants to go he can. It's his life and she's not going to stop him. But she really doesn't think it would be smart on his part.
“...Do you need help getting out of here?”
He doesn't answer right away, and she assumes he's assessing his damage. But then he shakes his head. “No, I'll manage. Don't think I can really move for awhile though.”
She thinks about getting up and leaving herself. He was here first and while he can't exactly claim the dumpster as his own, she doesn't want to be here in case he does keel over. She doesn't need anymore dead bodies on her hands. Plus, he may want to die in peace. But she doesn't move to leave, only wiggles more into the trash, trying to get somewhat comfortable now that she's no longer on top of the dude next to her. It's really not the worst thing on the planet. Could have easily been worse.
“Is it all right if I stick around?”
“Knock yourself out."
After a few moments of listening to the mans laboured breathing, she stretches an arm across her body and offers her hand. “Jessica Jones.”
A leather hand grips hers, and they shake. “Matt Murdock.”