Ed Nygma

Babs flashed Ed her most charming grin in return. “I do,” she agreed. She had never been one to turn down a compliment. Fortunately Ed understood her addiction to praise -- it was one of the many things they had in common, along with a flair for the dramatic and a penchant for the finger things. There wasn’t anything wrong with any of that, was there? It just so happened they also shared some…more violent tendencies. Who didn’t, really? “Thank you,” she said, preening again with another smile. “Oh, I know.” It just so happened that she loved pink, and it certainly didn’t hurt that it suited her so well. She pouted slightly and shrugged. “No, I’m not looking to dethrone him, although he was mad at me recently. I didn’t even do anything!” Her pout deepened. “I just wanted to ask you about Isabella. She was in my club the other day.”

"That cranky little bird!" Edward exclaimed, giving her a grin. "Being angry certainly isn't out of character. However; our dear friend Oswald isn't usually mad over nothing. And you aren't always the most innocent party." Riddler teased with a smile. A smile that vanished as soon as she brought up Isabella again. How was he supposed to keep her safe and out of trouble if she talked to Barbara Kean in her spare time? As much as he appreciated his very small circle of 'friends'... Oswald tried to have her killed last time they were together and Barbara was a gossip. "She was?" He couldn't seem to hide the small annoyance in his tone before he leaned in closer to her. Lowering his voice so only she could hear. "Am I the first person to hear about this from you?" He asked before continuing, "If so! How do I keep it that way?"

Jim’s head was throbbing, and he felt like his mouth had been stuffed with cotton. His eyelids each weighed approximately a ton. It took him a few minutes to manage prying them open, and as he did, he heard a familiar voice addressing him. Ed’s words acted like a splash of cold water on his face, drawing him further out of his stupor. Which, to be honest, he wouldn’t have minded staying in for a bit longer. His head was still fuzzy, but not so much that he could coast through this. He wasn’t too worried -- really, he was just annoyed -- but he much rather would have been at home, eating a TV dinner and nursing a beer. “What do you want, Ed?” he asked, his voice even rougher than usual. 

"I can always count on you to jump right to the case!" Riddler said, his lips parting into a grin. "But Ed's not home. I'm in the hat, Jimbo. You know what the green suit and the hat means, right?" He asked gesturing for Jim to call him by his real name. Not the one his parents gave him but the one he gave himself before sighing and dropping his left hand. Keeping the right with the gun pointed towards Jim. "Whatever, that's not the point right now. I don't need your respect. I need answers." His voice wasn't quite as low or as gruff as Jim's so he dropped it a little the moment he noticed.

to hear his name was a blessed thing — completely and entirely his; nothing more, nothing less. oh, how difficult things had become; he can almost taste the poison of his own words & the others on his lips, like a kiss from something lost, but not entirely missed. still, he tries his best to keep the unbridled excitement of things anew from his voice, though his throat tightens in a way that makes it oh, so difficult. 

Oswald mentioned that the two of them weren't surrounded by morons any longer and Riddler's eyes softened. An amused little smile forced it's way to his lips and he couldn't stop himself from nodding along in agreement. "You're right. I've always loved your company." Oswald had been someone he had admired since long before he donned the shiny green suit and the name. He studied under his beautifully ruthless tutelage. Wanting nothing more than to learn all of the tools that Oswald had picked up himself from the mob. He'd become fond of him quickly, back when he was healing him in his studio apartment. But he couldn't keep the bird in a cage forever. Oswald left when he was ready, even as they kept in touch... Edward couldn't help but miss being needed by someone as powerful and brilliant as Oswald Cobblepot. It was why he was so happy to work by his side when he became the mayor. If only things hadn't been ruined by his friend's jealousy. He knew he would have been happy there... by Oswald's side.

@riddlesman

The Riddler turned to face her as she spoke. Of course he recognized her immediately but it didn't seem she recognized him from the papers. He supposed that was fine, all things considered. She did just say she was back. Maybe it was recent. "That I am." He said, listening to her introduction and hopping off his stage. Walking towards her on the ground floor before stopping and keeping a bit of distance from her. He quickly checked his watch before smiling. "We have 13 minutes and 50 seconds to become friends." He told her, "I have a show to put on, but I'm happy to listen until then. Although... fair warning; your umbrella boy and I have history."

Jonathan couldn't find it within himself to play petty little games with Edward. He was far too busy, thoughts lost elsewhere in mathematics and science. The psychology would come back later in the process as it was predominantly a factor in the planning and the execution, less in the testing and trial phase. Without as much as a word, he took the box, eyeing it suspiciously. Present didn't come without a price, even if it was simply the distracting presence of an old friend.

He was right to be suspicious of the box. True kindness among Batman's Rogue Gallery was rare. They had a tendency of screwing one another over for the pettiest of things. Especially when it had to do with the Bat himself. He just didn't need to be cautious right now. The Riddler's gift was genuine. He had considered Dr. Crane a friend of his since their time as cellmates in Arkham. Unlike most, Jonathan Crane listened when he spoke. He seemed annoyed to, but he did answer his riddles and give him rather good advice from time to time. It was one of the only good things about his time in Arkham before they started switching around his cells every night.

"I try not to think about history unless it affects the present," Batman replied coolly. "Is there a reason our history would meet that criteria, Riddler?" There was a slyness in the air, usually was with the green-coded man. But this was more. A new layer. He'd look into it later, set up surveillance if needed.

"Not this time, no." He admitted truthfully. "You'll be saddened to learn that none of my plans actually involve you at all." Riddler said with a small curve of a smile. "You're not my entire world, you know. I have other opponents to play with." He said, hoping that the Batman would feel a sting of jealousy as he told him that. He always did love his full, unbridled attention. He was one of the only people in the world the Riddler considered to be on his level.

"I'm not really interested in history tonight, Riddler," Batman called out. His voice was low, gruff -- but not mean. No edge to it. As far as the villains went, there were far worse than Riddler. Sometimes Bruce even found himself enjoying their conversations. Though of course Batman would never say so aloud.

Riddler grinned when he heard the answer to his riddle. "Not even the history between you and I?" He teased him, finally turning to face the other man. That wasn't the history he'd been referring to with the riddle, but if Batman wasn't interested in what he was currently up to... then there was no reason to explain it any further.

Babs flashed Ed her most charming grin in return. “I do,” she agreed. She had never been one to turn down a compliment. Fortunately Ed understood her addiction to praise -- it was one of the many things they had in common, along with a flair for the dramatic and a penchant for the finger things. There wasn’t anything wrong with any of that, was there? It just so happened they also shared some…more violent tendencies. Who didn’t, really? “Thank you,” she said, preening again with another smile. “Oh, I know.” It just so happened that she loved pink, and it certainly didn’t hurt that it suited her so well. She pouted slightly and shrugged. “No, I’m not looking to dethrone him, although he was mad at me recently. I didn’t even do anything!” Her pout deepened. “I just wanted to ask you about Isabella. She was in my club the other day.”

"No need to thank me. Just pay it forwards." He responded with a smile, hinting for Barbara to compliment him back with a quick hand gesture towards himself. "You know him. He gets like that." The Riddler reminded her with a smile. "He can be such a loose canon. Trust me." If anyone knew what it was like to be on the wrong side of Oswald's anger, it was him. He still got the chills sometimes when he recalled the biting feeling of ice on his skin. Then Edward's smile dropped. Isabella. That wasn't something he wanted getting around. Word that Isabella was alive put both of them in danger. "That's a popular name, Barbara." He stated, "As of 2021, Isabella was the 7th most popular girls name in the US. I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific."

Batman stood in the shadows, peering down into streets he knew all too well. The narrows were a dark, dangerous part of town. Crawling with criminals. Most of them, ultimately, harmless. Parasites that fed off the larger criminals, the ones with real damage on their minds. Those were the ones that Batman wanted to keep his eye on. A bit of movement, a blip in the light as someone passed by a window -- it caught his attention, and after a moment's examination, he swooped down. Batman landed silently behind the person. Only his voice announced his presence. "It's been a while," he called out gruffly. "Somehow I'm not surprised to find you here."

He knew that voice well. It scratched an itch in the back of his mind, one he hadn't been aware needed scratching. Edward took one final step, the high heel of his boot clacking against cobblestone. A bottle of wine in one hand and the other free enough to grab the knife in his pocket if he needed to... although, just what would be the point? He didn't fight physically. Especially not with him.

I was misinformed that you died. Isabella froze, and stared at Edward. She hadn't misheard. He thought she was dead. She felt sick, and for a moment, she thought she might collapse. He was the only person she knew in the city, the only person she cared about, and he'd thought she was dead. She remembered the absolute terror as her car sped down the hill and she yelled for help; the blazing white light, the roar of the train, and then nothing. You died. She blinked. What had the doctor said to do, when she felt troubled? Breathe slowly, Isabella. You went through a trauma. You're bound to be confused.

Riddler nodded at her question. He didn't want to explain the events of that day. How he'd been the one to identify her body or the suspicious glances cast his way as he exited the GCPD. With his head hanging low. He expected a call from them that never came. Some sort of arrest attempt... but there was nothing. Now that he thought about it, it was likely because she'd woken up on the medical examiner's table. He opened his mouth to remark how well she healed but instead she spoke. Mentioning the GCPD and how they were all idiots. He let out an amused laugh. "Was it ever a question that I could be anything but right? It's a wonder how they get anything done without me." He joked. "The neglect in Gotham's Police Department is deplorable."

Edward reached out, but didn't touch her. Isabella looked at his hand, and wanted to ask why he wasn't touching her. But, as she explained what had happened, he finally reached out and placed his hand on her arm. She blinked, and looked up at him. It felt nice, like it did before the crash, and she smiled a little. It didn't matter that her thoughts were fuzzy or her memories slipped. Edward was here again, and that felt extremely important. Things would be right, now he was here again. She was sure of it, somehow.

She explained her side of the story and his brows furrowed with confusion. It didn't make sense. He remembered identifying her corpse. How those rose petal lips had been turned blue. How her eyes stared blankly forwards... the members of the GCPD didn't even have the kindness to close them for her. She was dead on that table... or at least. She looked dead. Perhaps she hadn't been. Maybe there was a medical rational. Maybe her heart was momentarily stopped but she'd come back from it. Maybe he was misremembering how her eyes were blank and lifeless. Maybe they were closed. Had she been breathing? Only very shallowly? It hadn't happened often but sometimes barely living people could end up on the medical examiner's table. He'd been there once for one. He left the man there- frozen solid- and when he returned... he was gone. Walking around the GCPD asking for help. His heart ached with the need to have seen through her false death. If he had, none of this would have happened. He could have protected her. Sat by her side in the hospital. Was it the GCPD that made it so he couldn't? Did they neglect to mention she survived? That it had been a mistake? He felt a small bit of rage flare up inside of him. "I see... I'm sorry. I didn't visit... I was misinformed that you died."

Jim stood his ground and raised an eyebrow as Ed approached him. “Not everybody has the same colorful hobbies you do, Ed,” he responded. He smiled rather humorlessly. “Probably,” he admitted, although it was clear he didn’t care about that very much. Corruption had been rooted deeply into Gotham for a long time. It made sense that people would fight its destruction kicking and screaming -- not to mention guns blazing. Still, the logic of it wasn’t going to stop him. If anything, it gave him even more of a reason to keep going. The way things were shouldn’t be acceptable. Jim knew as soon as Ed’s eyes flashed that he recognized the man in the picture. “A little bit of both,” he murmured. Though that was usually the case. Few things were simple in this city. A little hopeful flame lit in his chest, though it flickered as Ed brought up a riddle. He didn’t hate them the way Harvey always had, but they were just so time-consuming. “What’s the riddle?”

"No. You get paid for killing people... for me it's just a past-time." He joked, "Do you think you're leading in number of fatalities on the force, Jim? Have you ever tallied it up?" The Riddler glanced down on the shorter man with a small smile on his lips. "Hmn, at least you're honest." He always had been. If there was anything left in James Gordon that Ed admired, it had been his honesty. "Oh... Gotham. Don't you just love the people here?" He teased when Jim mentioned that it was a little of both. It didn't surprise him in the slightest. "Alright, Jimbo. Since we're old friends, I'll point you in the right direction. Just this one time." He had to admit, it was a little strange that Jim was coming to him of all people but he loved any chance he got to ask him a riddle. "I'm hard as a stone and cold with no need for a coat. If warmed, I transform into the very substance I so often float. What am I?"

@riddlesman -- prompt from here

"Sweet or just plain true." Riddler replied after a moment, a devilish smile pulling his lips. "You know what I think Barbara, you just want to hear it again." He did enjoy working with her. Back before he had to cut her off. He knew as well as Babs that their time working together was limited. What, with her close connections with Butch and Tabitha, and all. But boy, was she ever fun! "I do think that's a fetching colour on you. Stick with pinks it brightens your skin." He advised. "To what do I owe the pleasure anyway? I should worn you. Penguin and I are on good terms so if you're looking to dethrone the bird, you should consider going to someone else."

Edward refused to leave, his incessant voice cutting through the headache that had formed sometime during Crane's withdrawal. His brain pounded violently against his temples in a silent protest. Pulling just far enough away from the peephole to remove his glasses, he pressed his forefinger and middle finger in circles against the epicenter of his pain. "What else could it be?" Jonathan's eyes closed as his brain began to unscramble, the tension loosening in his head as the pressure was relieved. The momentary break was interrupted by Ed's compulsive obsession with riddles. The pulsing returned, wrapping around the front of his head and settling behind his eyes having turned into a full-blown migraine.

"There you are." He mused when Jonathan opened the door and answered his riddle. Coming face to face with him. A grin tugged at his features as he glanced up at him. "Hello, again." He said as he took the present from behind himself and held it out for him to take. "The thing about gifts, Mr. Crane, is that you have to open them to find out." He reminded him, nudging it forwards. "Ooh! Don't forget about the card too!" Motioning with his head to the card taped to the side.