riddleman | Achievement Unlocked

"That isn't going to work."

Oswald looked at Edward's battered couch with ill-disguised dismay, frowning as he slowly took in the blankets dumped on it and the pillow. Clearly one of them was supposed to sleep there and the question was, which one? The likely answer - himself. He was smaller, he could literally fit on the couch whereas Edward's legs would probably hang over the arm rest if he tried and he was the guest. Guests usually got dumped on the couch.

There was no way he was doing that. No. Not ever. He looked at Edward and shook his head firmly. "I'm not sleeping on that." He had slept some rough places in his time and he knew how to slum it but no, that was not happening. Not now. It was not possible for several reasons he was happy to offer. "Can't."

"Of course not." He made sure his face stayed a polite mask, because inwardly he was cursing. His back hurt and the Penguin was tiny! He'd fit on this with ease and he was so sick of having to stay on the sofa. But since the thought alone was apparently out of the question, here Edward was, stuck just smiling politely. "I'd never have suggested it. All mine, don't you worry."

He admired the man, but did he have to be so demanding?

"I know what you're thinking. I can fit on it better, it would be easier if I did but you're forgetting one thing." Oswald moved towards Edward and as he did, he dragged his bad leg behind him as always, on a bit more obvious, just to make a point before halting and gesturing to the leg that gave him the frustrating waddle most people picked up on very swiftly. "I have a bad leg, it cramps up pretty hard if I'm not careful. Making it worse is not a good idea." Crashing on a couch was one of the not careful thing he liked to avoid. If he wasn't careful, it'd give and that was not what he needed right now. Not to say if he didn't have a bad leg, he would willingly sleep on that old thing. He had standards, of course.

He looked back at the couch for a moment, taking it in with a long sigh. "How do you sleep on it?"

"I wouldn't make you sleep on it, my friend, even if your legs were entirely healthy." Great, he had an excuse handy still and he couldn't even blame him. It was probably true. Although, on the other hand, he could still easily fit on the couch, so there would be no need for it to cramp. He wasn't about to argue the point though, it didn't seem like the kind of topic where he'd come out ahead, so instead he merely shrugged and wrapped his arms around himself to indicate what he meant. "I curl up. It's quite cosy, actually."

Also, when he woke up he had to bite into his pillow to keep from screaming because of his cramping, but that was beside the point.

"You practically limped to the kitchen yesterday. I thought you were doing a bad impression of me. It can't be comfortable." He had a feeling what was going on and it couldn't have been comfortable but part of him had been waiting for Edward to suggest he took the couch and tonight had seemed like that night. Clearly he'd shut that talk down before it had even began. Still, this wasn't acceptable either, Edward had been shockingly kind to him and since he'd stopped drugging him randomly and toned back going into his personal space, he was pretty good company. Boundary issues and odd intensity aside, he liked him.

And seeing him hobble around was both strange and unpleasant. It wasn't an ideal solution He didn't like it. He glanced over at the bed and raised an eyebrow. "You're very smart, aren't you? So, Edward, my dear friend, tell me. Two people, one bed, one couch. Neither can sleep on the couch so what are the options now?"

Edward might be slightly clueless when it came to some social cues, but sharing a bed definitely crossing a line or twenty? Yeah, he knew that one. So although it was a more obvious solution than torturing himself on his really rather crappy couch, he wasn't about to suggest it. "There are a few options, actually. I'll look into getting a new couch."

That would be the ideal. He wished he made a little bit more money, but of course the GCPD paid abysmally. Especially with all the funerals they kept having to chip in with.

He expected him to know what was being suggested so either Edward had entirely missed what he was aiming at somehow or he was not fond of the idea himself and there was no way that Oswald was pushing the strange man who undressed him and drugged him once to get into bed with him. Not that he thought Edward would try that again... or at least he hoped not, he wasn't entirely sure how comfortable it'd be for both of them. If Edward didn't want to, Oswald had no intention to push the matter.

"Not a terrible idea." Oswald limped towards the bed and dropped onto it, staking his claim happily as he bounced on the bed a little and then flopped back on it. "Do you think you can survive tonight?"

"Oh, with ease. As I said, pretty comfy." Maybe he could try to sleep on the floor instead. That might be marginally better. Edward sighed, then quickly cut himself off and turned to face Oswald instead, smiling again. He walked closer toward him, stopping a step or two away. "What shall we do for dinner tonight, now that this matter is sorted?" He did miss his bed. He loved having the company of his esteemed guest, but he really, really missed his bed.

"It's up to you and if you want to cook. I could try my hand at it but I wouldn't advise I take the lead here. I must profess, despite my experience in the industry and my brief time managing a restaurant, I know shockingly little about food and how to make it." The only things he knew how to make off by heart were things his mother had taught him and right now, he couldn't bear to have anything that reminded him of her. It hurt too much. And those were the only dishes he cooked well. "I can heat things up and I can make toast." He tilted his head to the side and gave Edward a look. "I think I can work the microwave now. So anything I can put in there, that also counts on my making list."

"As nice as toast and things heated up in the microwave sound, I believe I'll cook instead." How did people stand to eat inferior food when cooking was really quite easy and interesting? He supposed someone like Oswald was really more focused on being in the position to be waited on, so he couldn't blame him. He simply walked off into the kitchen so he could have a look inside the fridge. "What have you been up to today, while I was at work?"

"Not much. I ate all the left over pasta from the fridge, I read one of your books and I slept." There wasn't much to do here and everything Edward seemed to have for 'entertainment' was complicated. His TV was strange and thin, he was afraid he'd break it if he moved too close to it, he had a strange box with games but that also seemed too complicated and he didn't much care for music so mostly, it was just sitting around. Eating, sleeping, lamenting his life and how fucked up it was."How was work?"

"How are you feeling? You do look to be on a steady road to recovery." Edward started to get ingredients out of the fridge, plotting out his recipe before he got to chopping. He did like this, it was rather calming. Scientific, but without the need to be precise and more of a creative element to it, a bit like killing in that sense, only infinitely calmer. "Oh, boring. They are all idiots. I've no idea what anyone is up to, but it's not solving anything, I can tell you that much. Do you like spice?"

"I'm fine." He didn't mean to snap it at Edward but he didn't like probes into how he was right now because how he was, it was not overly good. He had never felt like this before, he had never felt this lost and defeated. He was glad he had Edward really. He hadn't thought he'd feel anything close to good again and Edward had gotten him there. He owed him. "Thank you. I must admit it, if I feel good, it's down to the help you've given me." He looked down and shrugged his shoulders, fingers idly playing with his shirt cuff. Well, Edward's shirt cuff. Flannel pyjamas, what strangely comfortable clothes. "I like spice, yes."

"I'll make note of that." He was generally memorising the details of what Oswald preferred to eat. Not that he didn't always remember every detail about everything anyway, but in Oswald's case it was more than that. He put care into it, in every meal he prepared and every bit of information the other gave him, so he could think of the ideal course to lead him on the road toward acceptance. The five stages of grief. "If you wanted, I could show you some of my video games tonight, my friend. Have you ever gamed before or are you a noob?" Of course he was a noob. This was Gotham.

"You're doing that thing again, Edward. Must you use such weird words. Speak. Normal." Oswald may have owed him a lot and found himself enjoying Edward's company but he was a strange fellow and Oswald was very touchy and sulky lately. Every riddle was met with a glare, every strange piece of lingo made him irritated. Still, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to try. "Sorry. No, I haven't 'gamed' before but you're welcome to show me." Was gaming like playing pong? Because he'd done that and it was boring.

"Apologies. Though the word isn't that unusual, it derives from 'new', 'newbie', the usage is quite spread out these day, probably originated in the late 20th Century." So he'd put up with Oswald's moods, not that he really had much of a choice. He did however have something that might distract a man such as Oswald, so he abandoned his cooking at a not so crucial moment and walked over to his television, quickly turning it on and then doing the same with his console. It didn't take long to turn on the latest GTA and in the interest of entertaining Oswald, he started up a game he had already cleared to some extend. "I believe you'll find this rather self-explanatory. Just let your anger out on a game for a change. Give it a try, friend."

Oswald followed Edward curiously and watched him set up his little box, taking a hold of the controller when it was passed to him and dropping onto the couch. "What am I supposed to do with this?" He huffed as he started poking at the controls curiously. This was stupid, video games were for children, after all. He idly moved around the city, unsure what to do. And then some idiot walked into him and told him to 'watch it'.

Fortunate had it that the punch button wasn't hard to find and within twenty minutes of Edward giving Oswald the controller, he had five stars and was heavily gunning down any police officer in sight happily, a massive grin on his face.

There, if that wasn't a success, he didn't know. It had been a while since he'd heard Oswald laugh so freely, not since they killed that goon together. Food was in the oven, so Edward washed his hands and then walked into the other room, so he could drop down on the couch next to Oswald, smirking at the mayhem he created on screen. "I thought this might be up your alley. Therapeutic?"

"Oh yes, definitely." The person he was beating down was spluttering pixeled blood and he was giggling to himself as he kept doing it. When the cops started shooting, he pulled out his gun and really let them have it himself. This was the most fun he'd had in a very long time. And he owed it all to Edward. "Thank you, friend. This is a lot of fun." The army tank had come into play and was firing it's cannon at him, he hid behind a building and looked at Edward with a playful grin. "If only real life was this easy."

"Oh, you know. With enough firepower? It could be." Edward laughed, obviously meaning nothing by it. He watched Oswald more than the screen, it was a joy to see him so invigorated. A lot easier then getting him someone else to kill too, although that thought was still on his mind for more than one reason. What could he say? He had licked blood - metaphorically and otherwise - and he couldn't get enough. "You're not too happy with the police right now, are you?"

"I'm not happy with anyone right now. No one. They all hurt me, they betrayed me, they all -- they all must pay. There's no simple way about it. Like you said, I have nothing to lose." He wanted Galavan dead and this time, Jim Gordon wasn't going to get in his way, no one from the GCPD would touch him or they'd end up like the cop he just shot in the face. A bloody smear. "I don't mean you, of course, I'm just speaking in a broad sense. You, Edward Nygma, have been a surprising support." He paused the game so he could properly look at Edward, a sincere smile on his face. "I know I'm not easy to deal with right now and I apologise for that but do not doubt that you have helped me immensely. I am in your debt, friend."

"Not at all. I have learned so much from you, my dear friend, and I have so much still to learn. You don't owe me a thing, if anything then I owe you. Please, don't think about it as you being in my debt." Edward smiled and put his hand on Oswald's shoulder, just for a moment. He knew that the other didn't much care to be touched. "I know that you will be on top again. It's where you belong."

"I hope so." He still remembered the humiliation of having to beg for his mother, going so swiftly from king to a man on his knees, to doing all of that and having it end so horribly. He felt a pang in his chest again, that same build up inside him of how helpless he had been. The frustration had been the worst part, being unable to do anything. He hated it. He hated having no power. He tensed under the touch but soon managed to relax, almost missing the hand as it moved away. "You've done a lot for me, whether or not it's a debt." He smiled and very tentatively, he reached out and copied the gesture, touching Ed's arm. "I owe you. And I already know what I want to give you."

"Oh, you don't have to give me anything." What? What was it that he wanted to give him? Edward had to know. Had there been any clues? Anything that would help him figure out just what he was thinking? Edward backtracked through all their conversations, his smile a little vague, but it deepened when he realised that Oswald wasn't moving his hand. That seemed like an important step. "I have never really had a true friend. I thought I did, but I know better now. You are my first."

"I thought I had a friend once too. I think it was all in my head." Jim Gordon, he should have been a good friend to him, he did absolutely everything he could for that man, he tried his best for him every time and whenever he needed him, he made distance, he struck out, he lashed out. He wasn't an idiot. He knew it wasn't what he thought it was. He thought back and no, he had never had friends, he had always been alone. And then there was Edward. He drew his hand back and picked up his controller again. "You're my first too." With a smile, he turned the game back on and continued to gun people down, not telling Edward what he planned to give him. He was a smart boy, maybe he'd work it out.

"I don't know how much was in my head, but ultimately I just think..." He wasn't sure how to really put it, so finally he simply shrugged. "I've never been close to someone I had that much in common with before. I suppose I've never been this in touch with my inner self before either, if you know what I mean. Ever since I started down this path..." He inhaled slowly, his smile growing. "It's been exhilarating. I've never felt in control before. Never felt confident. When did you first, you know. Feel that?"

"When I was in high school, there was this boy who always used to tease me and once he was kicking my ass pretty hard after gym class. I grabbed a baseball bat off the floor and I hit him. It was a fluke. The bat was heavy, I was scrawny but the combination made me strong. And I kept going, again and again and again. No one ever came after me for it but after the fear and the guilt let go, I felt so liberated. I felt powerful. I hurt someone and I got away with it." Oswald smirked excitedly as he switched his weapons to a bat and proceeded to smash at anyone who got in his way, clearly very entertained by the mayhem.

"I spent my whole life trying to chase that feeling. I wanted to be something, to be powerful and untouchable. I never thought I'd have it again, I never got any stronger but I got a lot smarter. Not your kind of smart, just good at playing with people. I couldn't fight them but I could get them to fight each other. That made me feel amazing." He wasn't a genius but he was good at messing around with people and he'd gotten very good at taking a punch to the face.

"I've never been that smart about people. I never got close enough to them." Perhaps if he'd been able to study them earlier, he'd have spent less time being so pathetically clumsy. But he was getting better now, learning social cues and taking note. He knew he would always be seen as weird, but he was better at making that work for him now. As for Oswald? There wasn't really any need to hold back with him. "The way you play with people, it's fascinating. I have studied your case history and it's truly remarkable. You have pulled yourself up before. You will do it again. Rising from the ashes."

"I don't care any more. About being king of Gotham. That's on the back burner, I can play that game some other time. I just want Galavan." He wanted to make him hurt, that was all he wanted right now. A slow painful death for Galavan, Butch and Tabitha. He was going to make them all pay. "Right now, it's the simple things I want. I'm sure you can appreciate that. Murder, bloodshed, people screaming. That's all I need."

"Oh, I can. I'm just talking about a renaissance, after you've dealt with him. And I know you will." Wouldn't that be beautiful? He wished dearly that he could be there, but knew that it probably wouldn't be possible. The thought alone was quite stimulating, in all honesty. "I wish you nothing more than the closure of torturing your enemy to death, my friend."

"You really are a dear friend, Edward." As he turned to tell Edward that, the cops blew him up with a rocket launcher and Oswald turned back with a baffled frown. Huh. Well. That was fun while it lasted. He held out the controller to Edward and smiled sheepishly. "Mind showing me how this game is really played. You seem very talented, I want to see your skills." He enjoyed this game, he liked watching it too. Shockingly.

"It has nothing to do with talent, I assure you. Merely practice." That said he took the controller over with a little bow and minutes later he was shooting people, racing in a car and cursing a blue streak whenever things didn't get perfectly and sometimes when they did. His smile was wide - perhaps a bit too wide - and he leaned forward for a better look of the screen. It wasn't anything like the real thing, but it was the closest he could get.

He had to hit pause when he noticed the smell of food, setting the controller down. "Dinner's ready." How domestic. "I am so very glad I get to share all these simple pleasures with you, friend."

"You're very good at this, I have to say. You're spree is beautiful." He loved watching Edward kill people, real or not, it was oddly exciting. Like having a student who was just flourishing beautifully. He slowly hauled himself to his feet the best he could, his leg was a little wobbly as he took his first steps towards the kitchen, helping him to get out plates and assisting where he could. Oswald wasn't very good at the domestic life but he knew how to have manners and how to be a good guest. His mother had taught him well.

It was oddly idyllic, to sit down at the table with someone and share a meal. He had gotten used to it with Oswald now, but before then? Miss Kringle had really been the first time he'd ever done that. His childhood and the years that followed had never lent themselves to such endeavours. "I can show you how to set up the game, so you can play by yourself tomorrow, if you like. I also have other games. I'm afraid to admit that I'm something of an avid gamer."

"I would very much like that, yes. I don't often do much these days. It'd be nice to have a hobby." Or something to do so he could murder the innocent and take his mind off everything. He rather liked this idea. "So it's settled! Tonight you will teach me how to use that box thing to play games like you do and maybe we can kill some hookers together before we sleep." Hookers in the game, of course. Although, it was hard to say where things could end up in Gotham. "In the bed, of course. Both of us." There was no way Edward was sleeping on that stupid tiny couch.

"I'll show you all there is to it then. It's really not complicated, teenagers all over the world are the target audience here." Hence it really wasn't hard to figure out how it worked.

Wait. In the bed, both of them? Edward glanced toward the bed and then back at Oswald, rather unsure what to say to that. "If you insist, my friend. I do like stretching my legs out."

"I don't mind it, it's fun." But nothing he was taking seriously here, not really. He liked his current interests and he didn't think he could play this seriously but it was nice to beat a hooker with a baseball bat or shoot a cop to death. If he had to play one of the more complicated games Edward played, he'd end up with a headache.

He looked at Edward and took in his surprise, smiling with vague amusement. Oh Edward. "If you sleep on the couch again, your back is going to be a mess. I don't mind sharing and it's plenty big. It seems wrong to put you out, friend."

Achievement Unlocked

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