#chatzy.

Riddler: It was a long night before Edward had finally reached Oswald and he had been exhausted the moment he got there. Initially, he wanted to spend a good few hours with the Penguin just to cool off. However when he had a look at the streets again – the chaos had only gotten worse since he got there and it was much safer to just stay put with Oswald until daybreak. Eddie didn't expect to rest as long as he had, sleeping in past noon. A good, long rest. He couldn't remember the last time he slept like that, but it had to have been before Arkham.

Walking into his safehouse now, he closed the door slowly, as if he was afraid to make too much of a sound before sliding the couple of locks in place. He would be fine here. It wasn't like he could stay with Oswald forever... not when he had Isabella to deal with. He checked the time and felt himself cringe. It was well into the afternoon by now which gave her way too much free time. She could have left and he would have never known. The Riddler rushed to his screens and turned them all on, glancing at every room until he found her comfortably curled up on the couch. At least she's still there. A small part of him was glad she wasn't out in the chaos, but he convinced himself that it was simply the game he was concerned about. Not her.

She looked lovely. Her hair fluffed out like it had been air-dried, his shirt was large on her swallowing her body in it, like she was still attempting to hide herself from him. The first thing he did was remotely shut off her television, interrupting her movie.

"Hello, Isabella." He spoke into the mic. "Did you miss me?"

Isabella: Simply showering and feeling clean again had done Isabella wonders. She felt human again, and as she sat on the couch, settling down to watch a mindless movie with a cup of tea, she felt at peace. She knew it would be short-lived, and the price of her afternoon of freedom would be steep, but she honestly didn't care. It was still wonderful. She felt relaxed and content. And she was luckier than most, wasn't she? She was at home, comfortable and safe, and completely alone. It was difficult not to think of her friends, but she kept her gaze on the TV screen and tuned out the real world, getting lost in the movie while she still could.

She'd been watching it for maybe about 45 minutes when the screen went black. Isabella was quietly grateful that Edward had chosen to turn off the TV before addressing her, because it wasn't as much of a shock, and she didn't jump when he spoke. She had been waiting for this. And she wasn't afraid.

Her hair felt soft and hung like a halo around her head, and his shirt was cotton and gentle against her skin. Just cleansing herself, and spending some alone, without the heaviness of his gaze on her, had revitalised her. She felt strong again, in a way that she hadn't done since all of this had started, days ago.

"Hello, Edward," she replied, bluntly, looking up at the ceiling. "Long time no hear." The question was pointless, and she completely ignored it. He knew the answer. Instead, she calmly picked up her phone and raised it up a little, showing it to him with a smile. It felt so good to smile again. "Did you enjoy your night with Oswald? I've had a wonderful day. Do you know, I actually showered? It's amazing, the things you can achieve when you're not being stalked."

Riddler: He immediately felt irked at her statement. She had been talking to Oswald, that or she just assumed that was where he went. Still, the way she made it sound got on Ed's every nerve. "I'm not stalking you." He clarified, "We're playing a game... and you have yet to make your move." He said. "I don't understand why you haven't showered since we started. In Arkham there are showers, but you see... Guards are posted outside of the doors and come in only when they hear something unusual. They aren't posted inside the shower room." He hinted. "Perhaps you should have done your research." He hoped that would make her feel stupid.

With that, he pulled away from the mic and looked her over on the screen. She had smiled, she seemed content – that couldn't be allowed. He tried to think of a suitable punishment for Isabella. Something that would ruin her mood and hurt her. He needed to break her down emotionally.

[text: UNKNOWN]: What's a good punishment, do you think? [text: UNKNOWN]: You didn't follow our schedule.

Isabella: "Stalking," Isabella replied, calmly. "Harassing or pursuing someone with unwanted attention." She shrugged. "I would say that definition applies, but I suppose we're going to have to agree to disagree." Her heart was pounding, and she put her phone down on the couch beside her and clasped her hands together tightly in her lap. She kept her gaze on the ceiling as he spoke, and the realisation that there wasn't a camera in the bathroom crept up on her slowly.

Oh. He hadn't been watching the bathroom. She hadn't even thought that there might be some rooms he wasn't monitoring. She'd just assumed he would be watching every room in the apartment. Why hadn't she considered the possibility that he wasn't? Of course there weren't guards inside the showers at Arkham. Unless he was lying? Maybe he wanted her to think there wasn't a camera in there, so he could watch her unimpeded? Oh, this was ridiculous. It was impossible to know if he was tricking her, and she felt her carefully built control slip slightly. Just like he wanted.

She didn't know what to say, but kept her face impassive, and stayed completely still. He wanted to embarrass her. That was obvious. Luckily, she was saved from having to respond when her phone buzzed, and she opened it immediately. Edward apparently didn't think she was worth wasting breath on, so he'd returned to texting.

She stared down at the messages, and her stomach flipped. But she couldn't panic. Logically, she knew that he wouldn't kill her this early in the game, and she doubted he would physically harm her either. That would mean paying much closer attention to her, when he obviously wanted to take breaks from guard duty. She was safe. Besides, she couldn't give him the satisfaction of making her panic.

Ignoring the slight nausea she felt at his question, she looked back up to the ceiling. "I didn't follow it because you weren't here to enforce it," she said. "I'm not going to dig my own grave, Edward. I'm sure you're clever enough to come up with something suitably awful." Her voice was steady and cold, but inside, she felt the fear rising again, and she ignored it.

Riddler: She was right. He hadn't been there to enforce it. "Stupid, stupid." He muttered to himself and hit his head a couple of time with his hand before hiding his face in them for a moment. He shouldn't have left. No matter how cramped and how insane he was beginning to feel. Leaving her meant losing the respect he had spent so long building back up with her. It meant having to break her down all over again. He was weak last night, letting her crying get the better of him. He was weak for not staying with her through the day and night like he usually did. Taking time off? That was stupid and it wasn't happening again.

"It's okay, Eddie. We can pull this back." He whispered to himself, looking back at the monitors. She looked a little afraid at least, when he had mentioned a punishment. He sighed to himself. He had always hated the injections. He hated it when they felt he was acting up too much that he needed to be forcibly held down and given something to 'take the ease off'. There was the shock therapy of course, as well. But these were physical actions and he only had a mental presence of himself to work with.

Then again... She was terrified of loud noises. She jumped at the alarms he set, she was scared of cars and trains because of how Oswald had murdered her.

"Okay." He said to himself. "Let's see how you like this..." He reached over and set up an alarm, one that would just keep going. One that wouldn't shut off without him doing it manually and pressed it. The alarm sounding in her apartment, just a little louder than normal. It rang in every room. Blaring non-stop.

Isabella: The silence dragged, and Isabella knew that he must be thinking about his next move. She closed her eyes, and stayed absolutely still, and told herself that it would be fine. Edward couldn't harm her. She could feel him thinking it over, considering his options, trying to decide what would be a fitting punishment for her crime. She could just picture him, sitting at some desk, in the dark. In her head, he was in a warehouse in the pitch black, lit up only by the light of his monitors, the artificial light flashing off his glasses, making him look sickly and pale. It was a stupid idea – she knew that it was impractical for him to sit in the darkness, and terribly cliché – but she couldn't imagine him any other way.

And then the alarm started.

As much as Isabella had been trying to prepare, and she'd half expected something like this, it was still startling. She flinched, and opened her eyes, staring at the wall. It was shrill and loud and non-stop. It rang and rang, and she knew he wasn't going to turn it off. It blared out into every room. It had only been going for a few seconds, and already it was grating on her nerves, wearing down her composure, burrowing into her brain through her ears, echoing through her head.

She covered her ears and shouted at him over the sound of it, hoping that he hadn't muted her, so he couldn't have to hear the alarm himself. "Okay, Edward! You've made your point!" Pressing her hands against her ears helped, and quietened it a little, but she knew that it wouldn’t be enough, in the long term. Even with her hands blocking it out slightly, the alarm still rang inside her skull. On and on and on. It was merciless. She kept her eyes tightly shut, and hunched over slightly in her seat. "You can turn it off now!"

Riddler: It was only a few seconds before she started yelling at him and he knew from that that it was working. It was getting to her. He had to gain her respect back somehow and this was the easiest way of doing it. With all the chaos going on outside, it wasn't like the alarm – if someone heard it – would be cared about by anyone other than the woman living in the apartment it was blaring from. She was yelling to turn it off, and Edward clicked the mute button to give himself a little silence.

[text: UNKNOWN]: What did you say? I can't hear you over the alarm! Wow, is that ever loud.

He texted her, letting out a small chuckle to himself. Beginning to feel a little better about taking the time off. He shouldn't have, of course... but at least he knew it was easy to get to her. He would have her respect back soon, it was only a matter of time. He made himself comfortable in his chair and turned on the television for a little background noise. The news, so he wouldn't miss Joker's capture. The capture that was bound to happen at some point. The entire bat-cast were active and on the streets right now. It would only be a matter of time before Batman caught the Joker.

Then again... Batman was acting a little strange when he saw him. It lifted Ed's spirits to hear that he needed his help. Just saying that made it clear that Batman did respect Ed's genius. The only problem was that he encountered a "Batman" just before. And who was to say that this wasn't just Superman dressing up, or someone else filling in. Someone needed to do it. Batman's words rung in his head. Was the man he encountered really Batman? Did he really respect him enough to ask for his help.

To offer him the game of his life? For a moment, he was lost in his own thoughts. Staring at the woman he used to love in the monitors. He could be helping Batman but he had to babysit her. He couldn't lose any more of her respect. She needed to understand what it was like for him.

Isabella: Ever since her train crash, Isabella had hated loud noises. She flinched at speeding cars, and jumped at sudden sounds, and always kept her TV and music slightly quieter than average. Being woken up by an alarm every morning, since being trapped here, had been bad enough, but this was awful. It was deafening, and her head was already starting to hurt a little.

After the calming shower, and a whole morning of silence, and quiet TV, she felt so much more sensitive. Her brain ached and the alarm kept going and going and going. She screwed her eyes shut and tried to think, but she was noticing tiny things about the alarm. The way there was a beat to it, like a heartbeat, like a drill, worming its way into her head. The way it looped, almost melodically, over and over. One ring faded into the next and into the next and into the next. It was shrill and constant and she couldn't think.

Her phone vibrated beside her, and she looked down at it. Her hands were pressed against her ears, trying to muffle the sound, but it hardly helped. She picked up her phone with one hand, and the noise became more ear-splitting without the cover of her hand. His text was so mocking, so cruel, that she wanted to scream in frustration. Oh, he was enjoying this. Of course he was.

She texted back furiously, trying to focus on her anger instead of the sound, ringing and ringing and ringing.

[text: UNKNOWN]: Turn it off, Edward. You've made your point. [text: UNKNOWN]: I get it. You're angry because you left me unsupervised. [text: UNKNOWN]: Stop punishing me for your mistake.

She dropped the phone immediately, but left it open, so she would be able to see his reply, and covered her ears again, trying to block out the incessant noise. Maybe she could find some headphones? They would be more sound-cancelling than just her hands. And, if she buried her head under several pillows, she could drown it out. But she didn't want to break so quickly. Maybe he would stop it before she had to resort to that.

Riddler: He read her texts. Stop punishing me for your mistake. He read and frowned to himself. It was his mistake, but he was the guard, not the prisoner. She was the one who always had to bear the consequences. That was how it worked, wasn't it? She said she got it, but she was still trying to tell him what to do. He couldn't turn it off when she asked him to. It would give her a sense of power, and this was a delicate game. She had to feel completely powerless the whole time. That was the real point of the game.

[text: UNKNOWN]: You know, I'm trying to turn it off right now! But it might be stuck. [text: UNKNOWN]: I think I recall seeing some earplugs in your drawer next to your bed. [text: UNKNOWN]: You should check there, that might help!

Ed looked over at his desk where he had placed the small box of confiscated items from her house. Inside of it were the earplugs he was talking about. But he wanted to see her get up and try to look for them. He wanted the frustration that came with realizing there was pretty much nothing concrete that would help cancel the sound of the alarm. Edward could force whatever cruel punishment he felt like against her and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She could beg all she wanted but she was a patient now at Nygma's Asylum. She was his new toy to play with... and his to break.

Isabella: Edward replied almost immediately, and Isabella stared down at his messages, and felt a sinking sort of horror in the pit of her stomach. He was lying, of course. He was playing with her. It was all a game to him. She couldn't think. The alarm was relentless. So loud and constant and piercing. She was pressing her palms so hard against her ears that she could feel the cartilage digging into her hands, but it wasn't making a difference. On and on and on. Her neck ached. Her head hurt. And, even though she knew he was lying, she knew that there wouldn't be any earplugs in her drawer, she had to check. Just in case. In case there was there was the slimmest chance for a scrap of mercy, a tiny act of compassion.

Besides, if she did what he told her, maybe he would be satisfied. Maybe, if she just looked for the obviously non-existent earplugs, he would see that she was willing to do what he said. She walked to her bedroom with her phone in one hand, still covering her ears tightly, pressing the phone against her left ear. She bent down beside her bedside drawer, trying to steel herself for what she knew she would see. And she opened it.

She'd known they wouldn't be there. Of course, he had taken anything that might give her relief. But it was still heart-rending to see the empty drawer, and Isabella felt something rise inside her throat, like a sob or a gasp or a scream, but she couldn't break. Had it even been ten minutes of relentless, nonstop, ear-piercing, noise? How long was he going to do this? People went mad from constant sound, didn't they? Was he going to drive her insane? Was he going to deafen her? She couldn't think, she couldn't focus, she couldn't hear anything except that alarm. Blaring and blaring. It rang through her skull and burrowed right into her core.

In an effort to get some peace, she walked over to her bed and covered her head with her pillows, pressing them against her head. No choice but to bear it. On and on. Screeching. Hurting. No choice. He would stop soon. He had to stop soon. She pulled the duvet over her head as well, and it muffled the sound ever so slightly. But it was inside her skull. Inside her head. After a few seconds of hiding, she texted him again, using one hand to keep her pillows against her ear.

[text: UNKNOWN]: Very funny.

She typed a text but didn't send it. Eddie, please. I can't stand it. That sounded so weak, so pathetic and broken, and she couldn't give him that satisfaction. She wouldn't grovel. It hadn't been an hour yet. Maybe she would feel differently after an hour of this headache-inducing onslaught of noise. But, right now, she wouldn't break.

[text: UNKNOWN]: Is there ANYTHING I can do to make it stop?

Riddler: He watched her walk into her bedroom. She opened the drawer, with nothing in it and unlike what he expected – didn't make a sound. He wanted her to yell, or to clearly be frustrated to the camera. Maybe she did without physically indicating it, but he wouldn't know. He had muted her because the sound was annoying to him as well. There was never an alarm that went off forever in Arkham, but there was always the screams of the insane. Every day, every night... constant screaming or laughing. Constant noise. He was treating her with a worse version of that. One she couldn't simply get used to.

She curled up under the covers and under the pillows. Trying to burrow herself in them to help ease the noise. He remembered doing the same from time to time with his much thinner blanket and cheaper pillows. He wasn't expecting to get another text from her, but his phone vibrated and he looked down at it.

[text: UNKNOWN]: I thought so.

He replied to her text, calling his little prank funny and he grinned a little to himself. There was something about this conversation, them being sarcastic to one another that reminded him of a simpler time. They used to fight like this when they were together. It was a lot more light-hearted than before.

There was a pause and then he received another one from her. Asking what she could do. Ed blinked in interest and looked back at her monitor. She was actually playing now. She wasn't just waiting for him to stop like usual. She was asking for an order. Asking if there was something she could do. He perked up a little as he thought about one. He missed making her think...

[text: UNKNOWN]: Actually, there is something you could do. [text: UNKNOWN]: You would have to get out of bed for it.  [text: UNKNOWN]: Could you tell me a riddle I've never heard before?

Isabella: Isabella tried to relax as she lay in bed, under her duvet, but it was impossible. She felt like she was under attack. The sound – the constant sound – made her tense up automatically, and her muscles locked and her head felt like it was burning. The alarm had been so consistent now, ringing and ringing and ringing its high-pitched trill, that it felt like a part of her brain. It was like being beaten. It hurt to think. It hurt to do anything. Even covering her head with her pillow, trying to quieten the din, she felt like she was under fire. But she couldn't cry. She couldn't break down. Not yet.

Yet. Because she knew she would. If he kept this up for hours, it would wear her down. Isabella could practically feel the urge to beg him, to plead for him to stop this, right on the tip of her tongue. But she couldn't give in. She had to hold on, for as long as she could, until her mind started to fail her. She could still think, for now. Her brain ached, but she could still think. So, for as long as she could, she would bear this.

She didn't think he was going to reply. There was nothing she could do to stop this. He would keep blasting the sound until she burst into tears. Maybe he wouldn't even stop then. He wanted her to feel powerless, helpless, trapped. He wanted her to pay for her whole day of freedom. But then her phone buzzed again, and she stared at his messages, unable to believe what she was seeing. There was a way to stop this. He was giving her a way out.

But her skull was ringing with noise and she was desperately trying to focus on anything but the constant loop of the alarm. How could she write a riddle? How could she piece together something that the Riddler himself had never heard? It was impossible. Not like this. She wanted to tell him that she couldn't do it. But he wanted her to play, didn't he? Hadn't he called this a game? And he'd accused her of not making her move yet. She'd allowed herself to fall into the role of his victim immediately, without really fighting back, except for ignoring him. But now was her chance to. Now, she could prove to him that she could do this.

[text: UNKNOWN]: Fine.

Without anything more to say, Isabella took her head out from under the pillows. Her ears hurt, and her brain felt like it was being crushed, and the alarm was ringing and ringing. But she had to focus. She had to focus on this. It was her chance. So, she walked into the kitchen, carrying her phone with her, and picked a pad of paper and a pen from the counter. She sat down at the table, placing her phone on it, and stared at the blank page.

She knew, immediately, what she wanted the answer to be, and she wrote it down in the centre of the paper, hunching over it to shield it from him. And she started to mind map, frowning a little, writing frantically, desperately pulling synonyms and antonyms and adjectives from her aching head. She didn't think about Edward, and she tried to ignore the alarm, though it was almost impossible. But she had to do this. She had to prove herself to him.

Riddler: He wasn't expecting the woman to actually agree to his nearly impossible task. He had asked her to create a riddle he hadn't heard before, even under these conditions. The alarm blaring so loud, he doubted she could really think all that much... sure, he could do something like this pretty easily. But her whole life wasn't about the thrill of puzzles. He could pull a riddle out of thin air, she on the other hand had only been writing them since they started their first game about a year ago.

He watched as she got out of bed and walked into the kitchen. Getting her things together and setting up at the table, he was curious about the way she was going about it. It looked like a brainstorm but he couldn't read anything on the page with her bending over it, and also how far the camera was from her. He wanted to see her expression. The way her her eyebrows used to furrow and her lips would pull into a frown. It was always so clear to him when she was thinking. She didn't chew the end of her pen like he did, but she did had small habits besides her expression that could indicate she was deep in thought so he was focused on those. Her body language would change ever so slightly, so he was watching for that. Any slight indication that she was deep in thought was enough for Ed.

He missed her like this. The whole game and all she was doing so far was taking what he was throwing at her. She wasn't fighting back. She wasn't playing until now. And his heart nearly skipped a beat. He was excited that she was playing. Happy that she was finally using that beautiful brain of hers. He used to love her because she was intelligent and she wasn't showing him that the entire time she was trapped in there. Ed smiled slightly to himself, his eyes still glued to the monitor as she worked out her riddle for him.

Isabella: It was difficult to think. Isabella frowned, and stared down at the scribbled words, trying to link them together in some intelligent way. She had a small cluster of synonyms in one corner of the page, and she tapped the end of her pen on her lips and looked up, staring into space.

She knew that she couldn't beat Edward. There was no way she would be able to write something that he wouldn't be able to solve. But she'd consider this a triumph if she could even give him pause. If he took more than ten seconds to answer, then she would be proud of herself. Besides, he hadn’t asked her to write something he couldn’t solve. He’d asked her to write something he’d never heard before.

And there was a small, stupid, part of her that wanted to impress him, wasn't there? As ridiculous as that was, she wanted to impress him.

The alarm was deafening, and her head hurt. She stared at the wall, her mind spinning dizzyingly. One line rolled over and over in her head, a line from a document. Oh of course. Article One. While she still had, before it slipped away, she wrote it down quickly, and tried to drown out the sound of the agonising alarm by focusing on the words. The faster she was, the faster the noise would stop. But her brain was pounding inside her skull, and she kept getting distracted and losing her train of thought.

She scrawled down two lines, and then tore her gaze away from the paper again, to stare into the middle distance, biting the inside of her cheek. The slight tingling in her mouth, that should have been pain, distracted her from her headache, and from the incessant alarm.

She was determined to show off, so she bent over her paper again and wrote and rewrote several versions of the penultimate line, crossing some words out, replacing others. Was it ever like this for him? she wondered. Was it this difficult, this intellectually stimulating, this challenging? She'd wondered that before, when they had played their game almost a year ago. And this reminded her of that, in a way. Now, she was aching, and tired, and furious with him.

But when was the last time she'd thought this hard? When was the last time she'd tried? She felt more alive than she had done since becoming Edward's prisoner. As if writing this riddle, trying to play his game, trying to impress him, was waking her up again.

With the last line written, Isabella sat back and picked up the paper in one hand, chewing her lip pensively. It certainly wasn't her best, but it got the point across. With her free hand, she texted him quickly, not giving herself a moment to consider or doubt or change anything. The quicker she got this sent, the quicker he would shut off the awful alarm. It was deafening, and she just wanted it to stop.

[text: UNKNOWN]: I’m priceless when taken, and invisible when you have me. I can be seen in an open door, an unwatched room, a key. According to the U.N.G.A., all humans are born with me. What am I?

Riddler: It was a pleasure to watch her think again, to watch as she scribbled on the paper, eliminated words by scratching them out.... She had clearly a vision for the riddle. She probably wanted it to be as difficult for him, well- as difficult as she could make it under the amount of pressure she was under. The constant blaring of the alarm in her ears as she wrote. He felt a small feeling in his chest. A tiny sense of pride that she could do this under all the pressure he was putting her under. She was so determined, and god was it ever nice to see her finally playing with him. Ed watched her closely, waiting for her to send him the riddle.

When she did, he found the answer incredibly obvious but that wasn't the task he had set for her. He wanted her to write a riddle for him. That was all he asked from her. So, immediately, keeping his word. He reached over and shut off the alarm before sending her his answer.

[text: UNKNOWN]: Freedom.

Of course it was freedom, what else could it be? It could have been anything but she related it to the situation. He sighed. At least she was playing. He had to keep her playing somehow. He wanted her to take a turn on him, too. He couldn't just keep hitting her, as if she was a punching bag. She needed to hit him back. It wasn't any fun if she wasn't fighting back... It wasn't a game if it wasn't two players... He sighed to himself wondering how he should go about triggering her attack on him. He was hoping for a mental attack, a challenge of sorts.

[text: UNKNOWN]: If you want your freedom, fine. You're free to leave.

He sent, waiting for her reaction impatiently.

Isabella: Without warning, the alarm shut off, and Isabella didn't even try to hide her relief. She breathed out and visibly relaxed. The silence was unbelievable. The alarm was still ringing in her head, but she already felt more at ease, without the constant sound. He had kept to his word, and she was a little surprised. It was a very small act of kindness, but it was still an act of kindness. Then again, Edward had always been a victim of his rules. If he promised to turn the alarm off when she finished the riddle, then it would have odd for him not to do so.

Her phone vibrated, and she wasn't remotely surprised to see him nonchalantly answer it. Of course he'd got it. She hadn't checked to see if he'd taken more than 10 seconds – she'd been too distracted by the wonderful silence – but at least he hadn't used the mic. At least he'd let her have her silence. And he hadn't answered immediately, so she considered it a triumph. She sighed to herself, and looked up at the ceiling. "I know, it was cliche. But what did you expect?" And she felt such a wave of tiredness that she wanted to just lie her head on the table and close her eyes. He'd turned the alarm off, but how much longer would he keep her? When was he going to do something?

As if he'd read her mind, her phone buzzed again, and she stared at the message in disbelief. Was it a trick? Was it another test? Maybe there was a loop hole? He wanted her to leave, but only for a few hours. But she knew Edward. If he wanted her to have a time limit, surely he would have told her outright? Unless he wanted to play with her? And then, just like that, it clicked. He wanted her to play. He'd said he was happy to see her trying, in his text. And he was giving her her freedom so she could make her move against him. It was so like him, so moody and childish, that she felt suddenly endeared to him. He just wanted attention.

Isabella immediately pushed that thought away. It wasn't endearing. It was tragic. He wanted her to leave? He wanted to stop his turn, and give her hers? Well, he had no idea who he was dealing with. She stood up quickly, scraping her chair back, and picked up her phone. "I'm going to assume it's my turn, then," she said, coldly. "I'm going to leave for the rest of the day. I trust that you will have removed the cameras and microphones by the time I return tonight."

Eddie: "Et voilà! La reine entra dans son château." He said, opening the door for her. There was a shit-eating grin on Nygma's face, a proud look that never seemed to leave him when he was up to no good. He decided he needed to show Isabella one of the best things about his life as a criminal, but when she took too long to enter.

The man rolled his eyes dramatically and let out a sigh. "My dear, you saw me shut off the security systems. The cameras won't pick anything up. It's playing footage from last week. You have nothing to worry about. Walk into the art gallery." He said with a gesture towards the art gallery. When he was teaching Sabrina, she was excited to go into places after he shut off the security. She said it had been like 'visiting the museum at night'. And liked when her father took home a souvenir for her. He couldn't imagine the allure of an empty art gallery not appealing to someone like Isabella Flynn.

Isabella: Isabella had agreed to go with Ed tonight, without a moment's hesitation. She was thrilled to be a part of this side of his life, and flattered that he wanted to take her out. But breaking and entering hypothetically was quite different to actually doing it.

"Merci, mon amour," she said, politely, but didn't walk in. She knew that Eddie had made sure they wouldn't get caught – she had seen him take precautions – but she couldn't fight the innate feeling that she was doing something wrong. You're being ridiculous, she told herself. You know he's a criminal. This is your life now. And wasn't it thrilling? Wasn't it flattering?

Apparently, Ed noticed her hesitation, because he told her to enter, and she nodded quickly. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry, darling," she said, and she crossed the threshold immediately.

And now, once she was inside, she could appreciate what he'd done for her. He'd disabled the security systems, and taken her at night, so that they could have the whole place to themselves. They were completely alone, free to admire the art without the irritating crowds of people around them, and they could stay for as long as they wanted. It was the most romantic thing anyone had done for her.

"Oh, Edward," she whispered, looking around at the completely empty gallery. "It's wonderful!" Elated by her own law-breaking, overcome with adoration for him, she took his hands and laughed. "Thank you for bringing me, my love."

Eddie: Ed walked in after she did and was delighted at her reaction. Excitement seemed to fill her instantly once she had a look at the place. He moved closer and wrapped his hands around her waist to stop her from moving too much, making too much noise. There was still a guard that could return at any time. (Which was why he brought the gun).

As though this was nothing but a date, he pressed a kiss softly on her head. He was determined to have her in his new life. She had this way of brightening up his days, and if she wasn't there by his side – things would be a little gloomier. Isabella was important to Ed, so she was also an asset to Riddler. He just had to modify her a little. Make her fond of the things he was fond of, get her to be less afraid of it. Which was why Riddler was treating this like a date. This had to be positive for Isabella or it would be a bust for Edward.

After a moment he let go of her and started walking around her to an art piece. Examining it, then turning to Isabella and gesturing to her to come over with him. "If I recall correctly," He always did. He had a photographic memory. "You said you liked this one on our last visit here." He didn't know what she would pick, she liked a lot of pieces in the gallery. He hadn't even told her yet that he was going to take one for her. He didn't want to put pressure on her to pick one. He was going to choose the one she seemed the most enthused about and pluck it off the wall when the time came.

Isabella: They were safe, here. Ed was armed, and he'd disabled the security of the gallery, so nobody even knew they were here. Isabella felt giddy with freedom, but she didn't want to act recklessly. She had to prove to Eddie that she was an asset, that she wouldn't slip up and get them caught. She looked into his eyes when he pulled her close, and smiled brightly. He had finally let her in, he'd finally given her the chance to see this world, and she loved him for that. Her initial hesitation was drowned out by how much she adored him, in that moment. She had vowed that she wouldn't hesitate anymore. She had to show him she was okay with this.

As he walked over to the paintings, she was content to just stand and watch him, to drink in the fact that they were alone here, that this was magical and special. But he gestured for her to join him, so she walked to his side and took his hand and leaned against him, without asking for permission. She rested her head on his shoulder, and looked at the painting. It had been the first one she'd fallen in love with, when they'd come here during the day, but then she'd seen the others. They were all stunning. The art gallery was one of her favourite places in Star City.

"You do remember correctly," she replied, smiling. Of course he did. "It's beautiful. You know that I love impressionist art." She raised a hand and gestured to the wild brush strokes, feeling the sudden blasphemous urge to touch it. But she didn't dare. They were here to admire the artwork, not go too far. "It might be my favourite style. Oh, but –"

She tore her gaze away from the painting, and pulled Ed with her gently, wandering over to a landscape painting of the horizon of Star City. "Realism is stunning as well. It's less... adventurous, and I know it seems dull, but the attention to detail is breath-taking." She laughed a little, and shook her head. "I'm sorry. Listen to me, blathering on. I'm sure we had this conversation when we were here during opening hours. But everything is so much more stunning, isn't it? Now that we're the only ones here."

Eddie: He didn't pull away when she took his hand, didn't move when Isabella leaned on him. But he had to remind himself that this was more of a date than a heist. He wanted her to be happy and romantic and he couldn't ruin it by pushing her away. The romance was sweet, and he could only imagine allowing Isabella to pull him around and demand things of him – like hand holding. His fingers intertwined with hers. He had always loved art. He liked the colours and the emotions put into the first piece.

Then she pulled him over to the skyline picture and he gazed over it, listening to her talk about how much she loved it. He loved realism, himself. But he more so enjoyed portraits. If an artist could capture the liveliness of a human – that was incredible. In that moment, he wanted a portrait done of himself and Isabella. Something to hang on their wall. Maybe in the living room, or in his office. He let himself think about it despite knowing that he would have to leave his home soon. He would have to leave Isabella, too. He had plans for her, and she needed to stay behind for them.

He glanced from the painting to her, and watched her instead. The wild excitement in her eyes, that bright smile on her face. He felt this... sharp, sudden sadness that Isabella would have to stay behind. That he couldn't just take her away with him to his hideout. His smile dropped a little, but then she turned to face him and he forced it back on his face. "No, dear. I enjoy listening to you talk. Please, feel free to. I took you here to listen to you blather on. You could never bore me, remember?"

Isabella: Edward was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, and Isabella glanced at him. Had she said something wrong? She could feel herself getting caught up in the excitement and romance of it all. Maybe she shouldn't have pulled him after her? But he didn't seem irritated. Just thoughtful.

He smiled again, and she felt relieved. This was a date. This wasn't a test. She didn't need to worry. Ed had done all this for her, to make her happy, and here she was second guessing him? What was wrong with her? He clearly just wanted to impress her. She pushed away her worry, and the guilt that came with it.

"Thank you, Eddie," she said, quietly. She had already thanked him, but she felt like she had to do it again. "For taking me here. For showing me how... exciting this all is." She let go of his hand, and leaned on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, just content to stand there with him. She felt the sudden urge to hold him closer, though she didn't know why.

He loved her. Even now everything was different and frightening and new. He was willing to guide her into his criminal life, to be patient with her, and take her out, and listen to her ramble.

Isabella closed her eyes, and breathed out slowly. The manic excitement was still there, bubbling beneath the surface, and she wanted to spin around and drag Ed with her around the museum, and rant about the art, and get lost in how beautiful this place was without anyone else there. But, for a moment, she wanted to just be still, and worship him.

"I love you," she whispered, and it hurt to say. It made her heart ache. "I love that you thought of every precaution, so we could come here and do this. I love that you're so patient with me. That you let me into your other life. That you enjoy listening to me talk."

She knew she was rambling again. Maybe it was because she thought he'd seemed sad, for a moment, and that worried her. Or maybe it was because she loved him so much and she just had to tell him. "I know that I was... sceptical. At first. When I heard about what you'd done to that woman." She couldn't say anything more about that. She didn't want to ruin the moment. "But I understand now. Sacrifices have to be made. And this? Coming here at night? It's magical."

At last, she opened her eyes, and leaned her chin on his chest so that she could look up at him. "I adore you, Riddler," she said, quietly, and smiled. It was the first time she'd used that name out loud, the first time she'd acknowledged it, and she did it for him. Because she loved every part of him, and he had to know that.

Eddie: She was thanking him again, happy to be involved in his crimes. It was almost like he didn't need to convince her. She would follow him anywhere and for the millionth time, his mind wondered to her "programming". She shouldn't have told him that – he would be enjoying this so much more if he knew it was all real. He loved her, but since he started dating her and showing her the other side of him – it was like all of the morals she had were thrown out the window. Though maybe that was a good thing. It meant he wouldn't have to try hard to convince her to come with him... How did that make him unhappy? Dissatisfied?

He didn't want to leave her behind, and he didn't want to break things off but he wanted to tell her that she was being an idiot – blindly following him. Not asking important questions. Just going along with his – honestly correct and perfect – ideals, like she had none of her own anymore. She used to hate him and now he could hardly remember what that was like. Testing her had been fun. God, what was wrong with him. Couldn't he just be content in his life for two seconds?

"Of course I enjoy listening to you talk. I'd like you to do it more. You understand, anything you say Isabella. You are free to do so." The Riddler in him never worked overly well with others. He had an amazing amount of ideas and everyone else's seemed dull to him in comparison. It was probably true what everyone said about him – that he loved himself. But he loved Isabella too. He just wished he saw a little more of her. It was becoming dull somehow. Their twisted, sick relationship. She wasn't fighting him anymore and it was strange.

"I knew you'd like it!" He brightened up a little. "You've always been so fond of art. Even back then. My love, whichever piece you like the most. We'll take it. I don't mind robbing the whole place if that's what you wanted!" He said with a brighter grin. Now that he was thinking about taking whatever he wanted from the place.

Then she called him Riddler, and he couldn't believe his ears for a moment. "What?" He asked, before shaking his head. "Uh – right. Yes. My dear. I – I adore you too." He said stuttering a little. Then he cleared his throat, let go of her hand and walked away from her lifting his hands. "Come then! Hurry up, we don't have all night. If you can't pick something, I'll have to pick something for you! You have 60 seconds to decide!"

Isabella: Isabella wanted to just stay with him for a little longer, to drink in the fact that they were alone, and he'd done all of this for her. This was the Edward she'd thought she was dating, when she was Kristen. He'd been sweet to her, and he'd made her dinner, and kissed her hand like she was a princess, and her life, for a short while, was like a movie. And wasn't it like that again? Alone in the art gallery, listening to his heartbeat, leaning on him. It was like a dream. He'd done this for her. He'd taken her with him. And she was so grateful.

But then Ed spoke again, and she pulled away and blinked. "I... I'm sorry? We'll take it?" She stared at him. And it was as if the spell was broken. He'd taken her here to steal the artwork? She felt so stupid. Of course he had. He was a criminal.

But Isabella hadn't even considered the idea that they would be stealing. Some of the paintings hanging on these walls were priceless, irreplaceable. Where on earth would Ed put them? What if they got damaged? She hadn't even been able to touch the impressionist painting. She'd felt the aura of beauty and value radiating from it. And he wanted them to take something home with them?

He moved away from her, and she felt horribly alone. She folded her arms across her stomach, and saw the excitement return to Ed's smile. She had 60 seconds. And she realised. This was the test. How could she have been so thoughtless? So idiotic? If she didn't pick something, he would pick for her, but that wasn't the point. If she didn't pick something, she would fail. She would show him that she wasn't okay with thievery. And wasn't he trying to be romantic? He was letting her decide her favourite piece. Anything she wanted. He had taken her here on a date, to make her happy.

And she was part of this world now. Was she going to disagree just because she drew the line at taking the artwork? Why was this any worse than hacking, or breaking and entering, or murder? She realised that she'd been quiet for a while, and hoped that she hadn't used up all her time. Didn't you say you weren't going to hesitate when he asked you a question? she thought, disgusted at herself. What if she used up all of the minute? What if he was disappointed in her? After all the lengths he'd gone to get them there on this wonderful, romantic, evening, and she was going to ruin it by calling him out?

"Oh my. You've put me on the spot, Eddie," she said, forcing a laugh. It sounded terribly strained. For one insane, incongruous, moment, Isabella thought she hated him for doing this to her. But it lasted for a split second, and she returned to herself.

Immediately, she turned to the first portrait Edward had pointed out, the one she adored. The one she hadn't been able to touch before. And she walked over to it, and raised her hand, and placed it on the frame, running her fingertips over it. She breathed shallowly. "This one," she said, looking up at it. "I want this one."

Eddie: "Yes. We'll take it. Didn't you hear me?" He raised his voice a little at her, not really meaning to. But all of this – it was beginning to hurt his head a little. He didn't know what he wanted, but he did feel more comfortable testing her than he did indulging her. She was taking a little too long, but he could tell she was mostly just bewildered. She wasn't going to fight him on this.

He waited, about thirty seconds or so before his lady actually did something. Moving to the painting and choosing the first one she fell in love with. The one with the bright colours and wild strokes, leaving the boring, normal one behind. It felt like a metaphor.

A few seconds passed, and Ed didn't really say anything. Assessing her choice like it actually meant something. Then he turned his head at the sound of another voice just down the hall. "Grab it, darling," he told Isabella. "I'll go take care of our little friend. He deserves it for ruining our date," je said, taking his gun out. He then started walking down the hall and disappearing from her sight.

"Hello," Ed greeted the guard. The man had a gun, pointed towards the Riddler who was actually beginning to smile a little at the sight of a little danger. The guard spoke, meaningless words.

"Hold it," he said.

"I am holding it – my gun that is." Ed joked. "Answer me this. In a tunnel of darkness lies a beast of iron. It can only attack when pulled back. What is it?" He said before cocking his gun.

"What?"

"Answer the riddle," Edward demanded, his voice once again raising and the man in front of him looked more dazed and confused than ever. "Were you even listening to me?! IN A TUNNEL OF– Oh, forget it." He said before aiming and shooting the man in the hand. A sharp yell sounded from the guard as he dropped his gun on the floor. "IT'S A BULLET. You IMBECILE!" Ed told him. "Here! I'll make it easier on you. Answer this one and I won't kill you. I live in the – "

Before he could finish the riddle, the man unexpectedly charged at him. Ed let out a few shots, hitting a painting and a bust which shattered on the ground. The guard pushed Ed back, and he stumbled and fell onto the floor. Causing Ed to drop his handgun in the process. The other reaching down and grabbing his shirt before giving Ed a punch in the face with his uninjured fist.

The scuffle went on, and loudly as the two obviously fought in the other room. Thuds and yells could he heard from a mile away, probably.

Isabella: Ed raising his voice slightly only made Isabella feel more stupid. Of course she'd heard him. Why hadn't she seen this coming? Did she think they were going to stop at breaking and entering? Ed wanted her to have something nice. Just like Tom used to. It was flattering.

She stood in front of the painting in silence, and didn't let herself take her hand away from it. Every second she was touching it made her skin tingle, like she was doing something sinful. But isn't it exciting? She forced herself to move her hand from the frame, and brushed her fingertips across the rough paintwork, feeling the beautiful wild brushstrokes beneath her skin.

And then, suddenly, she heard a voice, and it broke her out of her thoughts. It must have been the security guard. She turned to Edward as he pulled out his gun. He was going to shoot the guard. He was going to kill him. She had to take the painting down.

She turned back to it. It was stunning. Anyone else would have struggled to take it off the wall – it was tall, and probably heavy, but Isabella lifted it from its hook with absolutely no issue. She wasn't breathing. She gripped it tightly, and just held it for a few moments, looking at it.

A gunshot echoed throughout the gallery, and she looked up sharply. Was that it? Had Ed killed him? She stood perfectly still, waiting for him to return. But he didn't.

A few more shots rang out, and Isabella bent down and leaned the painting against the wall. Someone yelled, and it was impossible to tell if it was the guard, or Edward. Had he been disarmed? He was clearly in a hand-to-hand fight. She couldn't just stand there and wait for him to come back. He was in danger.

Briskly, she walked across the room and into the hall. There was too much to take in with one glance. Edward was on the floor, and trying to fight back, but the guard was bigger and clearly a better fighter. There were bullet-holes in a painting, and a broken bust on the ground. There was blood on the floor, and Isabella couldn't tell if it was Edward's or the guard's. She reached into her pocket, and felt the handle of the knife that Edward had made for her. She withdrew it, and pulled the cap off, and let it fall onto the floor.

The guard had hit Edward. He had injured him. Isabella wasn't even thinking.

She walked quickly over to him, and grabbed his shoulder. He yelled, but she didn't make a sound. She simply pinned him to the ground and straddled his waist, holding his arms by his sides with her knees. She could hear her heartbeat slamming in her ears, her blood rushing through her body, and she could feel the man struggling beneath her, but she was so much stronger than he was. So much more.

She lowered the blade to his throat, and drew it across his skin. He had to drown. He had to drown in his own blood. She pressed her hand against this forehead, so that his head was still. So that he would choke on it. Blood erupted out of his open throat, and sprayed into her face as she dragged the knife across his neck, and it splattered onto her nice new coat. Isabella pressed her lips together. She dropped the knife beside her and held his head stationary. He was making horrific sounds. Choking sounds, gargling, gasping, sounds. There was a buzzing noise inside her head.

He convulsed beneath her, and Isabella waited. She looked into his eyes. It wouldn't be long now. There was nothing else. Nothing in the world. Except this man, who had hurt Edward, who had dared to hit him, who had ruined their evening.

When, at last, he went still, she blinked, and stood up. The blood from his throat was sticky and warm on her face, and she looked down at the stains on her coat and sighed in irritation. "Oh dear," she said, mildly. "This probably won't wash out."

Eddie: The fight was quick, he was taking punches – but he was also throwing them back, persevering! He didn't feel he was in an overwhelming amount of danger. He had fought bigger and more terrifying men then this one guard. Though, he fought like he had a background in wrestling or something. Eddie struggled underneath him, while he attempted to reach the gun. He was under a small amount of pressure now as he was having more difficulty. The guy had just grabbed his neck. Attempting to choke him. One of Ed's hands grabbed the man's wrist as an attempt to pry him off his neck.

It wasn't long after that when Isabella came to his rescue. Right as Ed's fingertips grazed the handle of his gun of course. He easily threw him off Edward and he gasped and coughed for air. A small bit of weakness he did not want to show in front of Isabella. It was one man. Ed could have handled him if she had only given him the time. It was a spot of bad luck. That was all.

As he sat up watching Isabella, he expected her to just knock the man out. Instead, he watched in shock as the woman he loved whipped out the knife he designed for her. One that as first glance looked like a pen, and sliced his throat open. He let out a over dramatic gasp, but Isabella wasn't letting up on the guard. Holding his head down and forcing him to choke on his own blood. It would be sickening to anyone else but to Ed it was incredibly interesting.

Isabella just a couple weeks ago was horrified at Edward's murder a month or two ago. Now the tables have turned and she was doing the exact same thing he described to her. Only it wasn't quick for this man. He was drowning in his own blood. She was forcibly holding him like that because she knew it would be significantly worse for the guy. Ed couldn't help but just watch as the scene went down. His eyes never tearing from it. Not much shocked him. Isabella in this moment, did.

It took a while before the man was dead and his girlfriend got off him. Making a comment about how blood wouldn't wash out. He knew a few methods he could try when they got home but Ed was too speechless to correct her. He cleared his throat, only a little sore from the fight. "Isabella..." Blood was speckled on her skin and it was incredibly beautiful on her. Was that odd? She looked as though she belonged in the art gallery herself, as a piece.

Isabella: Edward saying her name quietly reminded Isabella that he'd been injured, and she blinked and walked over to him. "Are you okay, Eddie?" she asked softly, running her gaze up and down his body, checking for wounds. "He didn't hurt you too badly, did he? Are you concussed?" He didn't seem too injured, but she knew from experience that he often hid pain well. She raised her hand and gently touched his forearm, and looked into his eyes, checking for signs of wooziness. All of her attention was focused on him.

Now that the threat had passed, she felt oddly disconnected, and distant. As if she wasn’t quite present. The blood on her face was revolting, but she didn't have any tissues to wipe it away. She felt it cling to her skin, and could only imagine what Edward thought of her. The moment she could, she would wash her face, and clean it away. It was warm and sticky, and she was disgusted by it.

Ed looked completely stunned. She smiled at him, a little embarrassed. He was gazing at her with awe, and she had no idea how to react. It gave her butterflies, and she wanted to kiss him, to tell him she was glad he was okay, to recapture that magical feeling from before. But she knew that now wasn't the time.

At least he wasn't badly hurt. Thankfully, she'd been able to step in before he was seriously injured, and he'd only taken a few punches. But that had been more than enough. The guard had needed to die for what he'd done.

She let go of his arm, and turned around to face the corpse. It was easier to focus on what needed to be done, rather than dither under his gaze. There was blood dripping slowly from the guard's open neck, and it had sprayed onto the walls where she'd slit his throat. His eyes were still open. It was careless of her to leave such a scene for Ed to deal with, but she had reacted in the spur of the moment. She'd wanted the man to suffer, to die slowly and painfully. It was surprising how easy it had been. And it would get easier with practice.

Isabella walked over to where she'd dropped her knife, and picked it up. It was covered it blood, and it stained her fingers bright red. She tutted to herself. "I should have been more careful," she murmured. "I made a terrible mess. I'm sorry, my love. It's not very romantic, is it?" She laughed lightly, and glanced back to Ed. He had been attacked, and she'd avenged him. She felt oddly proud of herself. It was just as Eddie had said. The man deserved it for ruining their date.

Eddie: His eyebrows furrowed as she examined him. Isabella didn't seem like she cared at all about what she had just done. But it happened fast. Perhaps she was in shock. Yes, that had to be it. It was a crime of passion that ended in her being in terrible shock. He hadn't even been focused on himself, busy analyzing her. His voice sounded slightly strained as he spoke back to her, shaking his head. "No, not concussed. I didn't sustain any injuries that won't be healed within the week. He didn't actually hurt me too bad..." He told her.

Ed's eyes went back to the body, the blood that pooled around it. It would be a lot too clean. Too much by morning. He was wearing gloves but she wasn't. He let out a soft hum as he tried to figure out how he was going to fix this. "You're right. This was an awfully big mess you've made..." He whispered. "Don't fret, dear. I'll handle it, I need you to get in the car. I have an extra pair of clothes. They're my work clothes, but you can probably fit them if you tighten the belt a lot or ditch the pants all together. We'll load the painting into the car and I will take it to my hideout tomorrow. You will be going home tonight before me. I'll handle this on my own." He decided.

It wasn't that he was kicking her out of the process, it was just a lot of work. She would find it incredibly boring anyway. Plus, she was likely shocked, she needed to rest. "You're in shock, probably. This is... your first kill. I – I didn't intend for that to happen. Just, go home. I'll handle it..."

Isabella: Hearing that Ed wasn't too injured was a relief, and Isabella breathed out slowly. "Good," she said, quietly. He was obviously shocked by what she'd done, and Isabella didn't know how to reassure him that she was fine, that this was completely fine. He had been in danger. She had protected him. The threat had been dealt with. Ed looked completely floored, and she felt a stab of guilt for throwing him so off balance. But it was very endearing to see him so surprised. It wasn’t something she saw often, and she was enjoying it quite a lot.

There was something reassuringly familiar about him reeling off instructions, and she nodded silently as he spoke, taking it all in. He looked shell-shocked. "Of course, my love," she said. "I'm sorry I've made so much work for you. I wasn't thinking. This is going to take hours to clean up." Her gaze moved from Ed to the blood, and then the corpse, which, she supposed, would have to be broken down and buried. He would have to find somewhere to dispose of it, which was a job in itself, but simply cleaning the gallery would take a while.

She hated having to leave him there, especially after such a brief date. She'd wanted to explore the gallery with him, and take advantage of the fact that they were alone. But it had been cut short. Isabella glared at the bloodstain on the floor, and mentally scolded herself. It had been selfish of her to be sadistic. If she'd just stabbed him quickly, and not made such a mess, then Ed wouldn't have had to work through the night to clean up after her. It was sweet of him to tell her not to fret, but she couldn't help but feel bad for causing so much bother.

Then he said that she was in shock, and she couldn't leave letting him think that. He would spend the whole time worrying about her. He stammered as he spoke, and she could see that this had upset him so much more than it had upset her. He was her endearing, adorable, Ed again, with none of the Riddler's bravado, and all she wanted to do was hold him. The Riddler was incredibly attractive, and made her weak at the knees, but Ed, nervous and concerned and thoughtful, made her melt.

Isabella slipped her knife into her pocket and crossed the room, taking his hands, smearing the guard's blood onto his fingers. "Eddie," she said, seriously. "Darling. I'll go home. I’ll do as you ask. But please don't worry about me. I know you didn't intend for this to happen. It was an accident." The thought that he'd somehow planned this hadn't even crossed her mind. Ed hadn't wanted her to become a murderer.

She blinked, and looked at him imploringly. "I'll take the painting with me, while you start cleaning up in here. But I promise I'm not in shock, my love. I'm perfectly fine." Because she couldn’t leave without kissing him, she leaned forwards and pressed her lips against his softly, only for a moment, before pulling away. "I love you," she whispered. "I did it for you."

Eddie: Ed pulled herself to his feet, his eyes travelling from the body again back to her. She was so calm, moving towards him. Taking his hands and talking to him like he was the one who was in shock. She was the one who just killed someone for the first time and she was comforting him. He stammered again, it was hard to get a hold of himself after witnessing his girlfriend kill someone so violently for him. She didn't need to do that. It was almost like she wanted to.

I'm perfectly fine. She said and he wanted to argue with her. She couldn't be fine because she was Isabella. The intelligent woman with morals and beliefs. Though, if she said she was fine... a part of him did think maybe she would be useful for this sort of thing when he just couldn't handle it.

"G-good. Yes... go home," he said. She leaned forward and kissed him, and Ed paused before giving her a kiss back. She pulled away and he gave her a puzzled look. He still couldn't believe she was fine. I did it for you. This paralleled his fight with Miss Kringle after he told her that he killed her abusive boyfriend. That he did it for her. Only now, Miss Kringle was killing people for him.

He sighed. "I... love you too. Goodnight," he said. They exchanged goodbyes and she left him alone to deal with the mess.

Isabella: Isabella sat in the living room, her knees crossed and her back straight. Though Joker had left a while ago, she couldn't quite shake the feeling that he left her with. He had invaded her and Edward's home, and, beneath the fake cordiality, there had been a genuine threat to his visit. She stared at the receipt, and the anonymous note, which were lying on the coffee table in front of her. Joker had claimed that Edward had taken the receipt from his victim, as per the anonymous writer's request.

She'd reread the note several times since Joker had departed, and it was still ridiculous. The voice was laughably villainous, more like a cartoon bad guy than a genuinely threatening person. But, despite the absurdity of the writer's tone, they had still threatened Edward, and that made her furious. How dare they? He had been doing so well, and they implied that he was slipping? They threatened him with exposure? The coward hadn't bothered to threaten her, but they'd gone after Edward? She glared at the note, disgusted with its author.

Edward had told her he would come immediately, when she'd texted him to tell him she needed him urgently. She had no idea what she was going to say to him. Would he try to lie to her about this? She didn't think she would be able to stand it, if he tried to lie to her. As much as she'd tried to deny what Joker was saying, she couldn't deny the evidence he'd given her. Edward had killed someone. And Isabella wasn't angry about that. He'd clearly had no choice, and she was almost certain he regretted it now. But he hadn't told her, and, even though she understood why, she was still hurt by that.

She tapped her fingertips on her knee, and was just about to text him again, when the front door opened, and she looked up sharply from the receipt. "Edward? I'm in the living room," she called.

Edward: He was admittedly worried when he received the text from Isabella. An emergency? His first thought was that she was hurt, or that someone tried to attack and kill her. He dropped everything as soon as he got the text. Far too concerned with her safety then his schedule. Ed raised home to where she was and walked in after a second of listening at the door for anything unusual. When it seemed safe, he entered and was about to call out to her when Isabella's voice rang from the living room. She sounded fine. There wasn't and strain in her voice. She wasn't in pain. He had just noticed how hard his heart had been beating as he realized she wasn't in any trouble at all. It still thumped, strong and quick in his chest. His stomach was turned upside down at the mere idea that something happened.

Ed entered the room, wearing a look of worry still plastered on his face. He moved quickly to her side and reached to place a hand on hers. Clearly she had scared him with the text. His hand grazed the paper instead of hers and he glanced down at it. A receipt, with a tiny spot of blood on it. "Oh, dear." He said. Wondering how she came about the slip of paper. "Isabella.." He should test what she knows, that was what he always did when something like this happened. "What is that?"

Isabella: When she saw how worried Edward looked, Isabella had to force herself to stay composed. She wasn't ​furious​, but she was certainly angry. But seeing how concerned he looked, for a moment, distracted her. He immediately walked over to her, and she stayed still, despite wanting to hold him, to just let go of the tension she was carrying in her shoulders, and allow herself to collapse into him.

As irritated as she was that he'd kept this from her, and as betrayed as she felt, she'd been afraid for him. What if Joker had sent people after him, or simply told the S.C.P.D. what he'd done, or intercepted him on the way home? Joker was clearly outraged that Edward had imitated him, and Isabella had been terrified that he would seek him out. But Edward was here now, and she could but her own worry aside for a moment.

She met his gaze. "It's what it looks like," she said, simply. "A receipt." Her tone was cold, and business-like, though it hurt her so much to speak to him like that. "The Joker came by. About an hour ago. He was looking for you. He told me what you did, Edward." Her voice broke, and she looked away from him, and stared at the spot of blood on the receipt. That made it feel more real. She didn't know who had died, and she didn't care. The actual murder was abstract and distant. But Edward had kept it from her, and that was real.

"He told me you framed him for it," she continued, addressing the receipt. Her hands were clasped together tightly, and her whole body felt tense. "I had to hear it from ​him​, Eddie." The nickname slipped out without her even realising it, and she closed her eyes. "I had to hear from the ​Joker​ that you killed someone."

Edward: He looked at her, listening to her words. She knew. The paranoid side of him, made him want to check her for a wire. But she would never do that, right? Unless Joker forced her to do it. He wasn't scared of Joker being angry with him. They had small feuds all the time and he was still alive. Sure, Ed had been tortured by him once, but the situation was handled swiftly. He expected that was how far this would escalate if it did escalate.

"I can't say I'm surprised The Joker found out. He has a knack for getting information. Spies, everywhere..." He said after a brief moment, it was better to just admit it. It seemed unlikely that Isabella would turn him in now that he was looking at her. She looked hurt, but it didn't seem like she was scared of him. She was angry, but she was making it clear that it was that he didn't tell her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to bring up that you had to kill someone to the woman you love." He paused, "Trust me, Isabella. I didn't want to. But it was the only hand I could play to keep myself and my family safe. There were these notes, going around. I'm sure you know... I received one."

He crouched, slowly and carefully in front of her. Taking her hands. The motion seemed like it was going to be a proposal, but his next couple of words were. "I didn't want you to be afraid of me, again... This wasn't of my own will."

Isabella: Edward didn't deny it. He didn't deny it, and that was both a relief and it hurt so much. Even though Isabella ​knew​ he'd done it, and she'd had time to process that, hearing him not argue was still a shock. A part of her had wanted Edward to pull some magical solution out of thin air, and explain it all. Joker had been wrong, or lying. Edward hadn't killed anyone. She'd been clinging to a stupid dream, and she knew it, but she'd clung on anyway. At least Edward hadn't tried to lie to her. She didn't know what she would have done if he had.

And then he said he loved her, and she turned to him sharply, and, for a moment, it was like everything else had vanished. ​The woman you love.​

Oh. Edward loved her.

When had he realised? Isabella had known she loved him for months, but when had he discovered it? She wanted so, so, much to just forget this entire thing, and kiss him, and tell him she loved him too. It didn't matter that he'd killed someone. He'd had no choice. It didn't matter that he hadn't told her. He'd wanted to keep her safe. But she knew she couldn't do that. They still had things to talk about. She couldn't let her feelings get the better of her.

"I... I know you didn't want to," she said. "The note made it obvious you had no choice." Now probably wasn't the best time to tell him that she'd received one too, and dismissed it immediately. She didn't want him to feel like she was judging him, for doing what the anonymous writer had told him to. Hearing him explain his reasoning, it made sense. He hadn't wanted to hurt anyone. There had been no other option. He'd done it to protect her. Just like he'd killed Tom to protect her. Sometimes, there was no choice.

She stared into his eyes as he crouched, and held his hands. "I understand," she said, softly. "I was angry that you didn't tell me, but I understand why you didn't. And I want you to know, Edward, I'm not afraid of you." She had to make him see that, but she didn't know how, so she just repeated it, imploringly: "I'm not afraid of you. I love you." At that, she couldn't help but smile, hardly able to believe she'd said it to his face.

Then she blinked, and forced herself to focus on the immediate threat. "Joker was furious that you emulated him. I don't know what he's going to do. He might try to hurt you." She tried to keep her tone matter-of-fact, but she couldn't keep the fear out of her voice.

Edward: He allowed himself to tell her that he loved her, and of course she took notice of it. Hearing her words back at him. Hearing her tell him that she loved him was a huge relief. She wasn't afraid of him for what he had done. That was a good sign... she still loved him despite his blaring dark side. He wondered for a second if she'd seen the note and knew about his mental breaks. About how unfit for society he was becoming... Would she still care about him if she knew his sanity was only so-so?

He wanted to pull her into a hug. She loved him. He could calm down, but he didn't move from his spot on the floor on front of her. Gently rubbing her hands with his thumbs. He had to move his hands, feeling a sense of nervousness despite not having a reason to. She could still take it back. She could turn this all around and tell him that she couldn't love a murderer. So easily she could pull away from him. He couldn't have that... that idea of her leaving him was too much. It was the last thing he wanted.

She was clearly afraid for him. "Does he scare you?" He asked her, looking at her with a confused look. He supposed there were a few things about the Joker that could scare just about anyone. His ungodly height, his awful smile, his unpredictability. He had grown used to it all with time but still, he could understand. Sometimes Joker's words got to him too, but most of the time he wasn't afraid of him at all. Like now.

He shook his head at her. "No, Isabella. He won't hurt me. I just have to get back on his good side, earn his respect again and we'll be fine. I can't do favours for him but I have to do something." He said, then he sighed.

"I'd rather deal with the villain I know then the one I don't. Taking the note seriously was the only option. If I ignored or publicly shamed that note, he would come after the people I love. Believe me, if someone ignored my threats back in the day, that was how I used to handle it. He wants to rule by fear, so he needs to show that no one can get away with ignoring him."

Isabella: Just having Edward closer made Isabella feel slightly better. The odd tension that Joker had left behind was fading slightly. Edward hadn't tried to lie to her, and he had told her he loved her. She allowed some of the tension to lift from her shoulders, at last. The way he was holding her hands, mindlessly stroking her skin, was calming, and she let herself focus on that for a moment. It was irresponsible – she knew that – but she wanted to just ​be​ for a moment. Ever since Joker had arrived on their doorstep, she'd felt as if her muscles were locked, and her mind was constantly whirring.

And then Edward spoke again, and Isabella considered the question. She would have been foolish not to realise that Joker was incredibly dangerous. She never relaxed in his presence, and she never let her guard down for a moment. But there was an unusual sort of mutual respect between them, and she didn't know what to make of it. She frowned a little, debating on how to put her feelings towards Joker into words. "He's powerful," she replied, after a moment. "It would be short-sighted of me to not be afraid of him." But, as she spoke, she held Edward's hands a little tighter. That was the pragmatic answer.

However, if she was being completely honest with herself, having him in their house, seeing his unbridled rage, even for a moment, had been frightening. He couldn't ​hurt​ her, but he could harm her. Listening to Edward's reassurances helped a little, but she wondered if he was being too arrogant. He hadn't seen how angry Joker was. What if this couldn't be fixed?

"You've known him longer than I have," she said. "If you say you can earn his respect again, then I believe you. But please, Eddie. Please be careful." She loved him, but she couldn't help but be worried at his certainty. What if Joker didn't forgive him? "He came here looking for you. I don't know if he was armed, but the fact that he decided to seek you out personally suggests that he's not going to let this go easily."

Though she was used to Edward talking about his time as the Riddler, his casual mention of it still startled her, and she blinked. "Oh. Yes. That makes sense. I know you had no choice." She nodded slowly. Perhaps, if the letter writer had threatened her, and she'd ignored it, she would have been in danger. That was an odd thought. After a moment, she looked away from Edward, and down at their hands. When she next spoke, her voice was quieter. "Joker said the murder was violent," she said, almost not wanting to know. But she had to. If she was going to be with Edward, she had to know everything. "And he was convinced you were trying to frame him for it." She breathed out slowly. "What did you do? I need to hear it."

Edward: "He's not going to kill me." He told her, wondering if that was what she was worried about. "You do understand that Joker and myself have known one another for years, so you should also come to the conclusion that we've gotten into fights like this before. I'm sure I'll be able to do something to earn his respect again. He should understand though... He did owe me this. I did do two things for him recently and expected nothing in return. Besides, of course him leaving me alone but that was a given. He can't come barging into my reformed life. The important thing is, I'm sure he and I will come to an understanding."

There was a pause. "You want to know how I did it?" Edward gave her a look of surprise. Isabella had accepted the murder, she seemed alright with it (as alright as she could be) and now she wanted to know the details? Ed wasn't too sure that she would be so alright with it once she learnt about it. "Alright, I'll walk you through it. I wasn't so worried about Joker finding out, I honestly thought he would be kind of honoured that I chose him. I could have chosen anyone really, but he was the most defined out of all the villains I could think of. I needed this to be a closed case immediately so the SCPD would have no reason to look into it.

Still, I took every precaution. I was given a certain person to kill. An older woman. First, I dressed in Joker's henchman's attire so the security cameras would catch that. -- You don't want to know how I got that outfit." He paused, "I took her from her home and to the abandoned fair grounds that Harley showed me a few months before. I put her inside of the funhouse. I made her death very quick. I would have made it a lot more merciful if I wasn't imitating Joker. I would have given her drugs, instead I just..."

He took a breath and pulled his hands away from her, looking away from her for a moment. "I slit her throat. Deep, and quick. She wasn't alive for very long. Then I... made her corpse look a little more --" He paused. "You know that slit-mouth smile that Joker does..?" He took a small shaky breath. He was nervous telling her all this. He didn't like sharing how brutal he had been.

He moved so he was more comfortable on his knees in front of her. "She was already dead when I inflicted several stab wounds into her body." He was starting to get a little quiet. He knew she would be reminded of Tom's death at the mention of multiple stab wounds. And her own death by his attention to her throat. "Do you want me to stop?" He asked gently. "I don't-- I don't want to make you feel too sick."

Isabella: Edward sounded so sure, and Isabella nodded slowly. What he was saying made sense. Joker hadn't explicitly stated that he wanted to kill Edward, or even do him harm. Now that she thought back, Joker hadn't immediately left to find Edward, when he'd been greeted by her at the door. Surely, if he wanted Edward dead, Edward would be dead by now? She knew that it was irrational to worry -- that Edward was right, and he probably wasn't in danger -- but she couldn't help it. "I know, I know," she said. "I'm sure he won't harm you. But he's always struck me as very..." She couldn't find the word, and went quiet for a moment, before saying, "... Chaotic. He might hurt you just to do the opposite of what you expect. I just want you to be safe."

She didn't let herself look away from him. "Yes," she replied, bluntly. This was going to hurt, and she knew that, but she had to know. Her imagination would only make it much worse than it probably was. And it wouldn't make her love him any less. She tried to steel herself for what he was about to tell her, and she held his hands a little tighter, and kept watching him. It was oddly comforting that he had come to the same conclusion she had -- that Joker was the most aesthetically recognisable villain to emulate. Isabella took a brief moment to be proud of herself for being as smart as Edward.

But then he kept talking. It was obvious to see how much he was struggling with this, and all she could do was listen. There was something incredibly chilling about how meticulous Edward had been, how many precautions he'd taken. Of course, he was intelligent. He would have taken precautions. Isabella felt her insides turn to ice as he told her how he'd taken this woman to a funhouse. Oh, God. She didn't want to hear anymore. She wanted him to stop, but she knew that, if he didn't finish, she would always imagine something horrific. He'd had no choice. He'd had no choice. She told herself that again and again.

He looked away from her, and pulled his hands away from hers, and she clasped her hands together tightly. She could see it. In her mind's eye, the woman looked like Kathryn. And she had a large, gaping, wound across her throat. Isabella closed her eyes. "A Glasgow smile," she whispered. "It's called a Glasgow smile." Edward was obviously very uncomfortable, telling her this. She tried to focus on that, instead of the image of a woman's corpse, with her cheeks slit open, and her throat slashed, lying in a pool of her own blood.

He had stabbed her corpse. He had stabbed her repeatedly. Isabella made a quiet sound in the back of her throat, like a whimper, and unclasped her hands to hold her abdomen, trying to hold herself together. She had to know this. No wonder Edward hadn't told her. God. She felt nauseous. All that blood. He had stabbed Tom, in the street outside her house. He had strangled her to death. He had sliced this woman's throat open. At least it had been quick.

She'd told Joker that she knew Edward was undisturbed by violence, but actually hearing it was a completely different experience. He had violently, brutally, murdered a woman, because a note had told him to. He could have drugged her. That would have been more humane. But he had gorily, messily, slaughtered someone.

And then he asked her if she wanted him to stop, and she remembered that this was her Edward. This was the man she loved, with her whole heart. He hadn't wanted to tell her. It was clear that he was struggling. She forced herself to look at him, and saw how worried he looked. She took a slow breath in, to remind herself that she still could.

"Stop," she whispered, her voice quivering. "Please stop. I... I don't need to hear anymore. I've heard enough." She blinked quickly, and had no idea what to say. "Thank you for telling me, Edward." That sounded ridiculous, and she immediately wished she hadn't said it, but she couldn’t think clearly.

Edward: He really should have just used the name. He didn't know why it was so easy to forget Isabella could keep up with him. Maybe it was just that he was speaking to imbeciles so often that he adapted to talking to one. "Yes." He said softly. He was quite proud of her intelligence. He loved her for it but now was not the time to give her praise. She was clearly in shock from his descriptions. She seemed a little out of it. The horror reflecting in her eyes. He could tell she was trying to stay neutral but he eyes said it all and she was scared of him again.

She looked so sick to her stomach. She wouldn't have done it that way, she was judging him now. She had to be. He let out a deep breath. "The case was closed rather swiftly. Almost as soon as they got on the scene... I left nothing to chance. I even forged his hand writing and wore his shoe size... I-- The point is, they're never going to look at me for it, Isabella. That's why I had to do it like that. If I did it another way it would be an ongoing investigation and maybe they would have found me and sent me back..."

He paused and then insisted, "I'm not crazy. I had to do it. You understand I couldn't allow someone close to me; someone like you to get hurt because I didn't take an obvious threat seriously. They would do what they said on note and then they would go after you or..."

He trailed off, he was rambling a lot. Wanting her to get it. To understand him. He had to do it that way because it was the easiest way to leave a body for proof and to have his own name never show up as a suspect. He glanced back up to meet her gaze and took her hands very carefully again like she was a wild animal and he didn't want to scare her off. "Isabella?" He whispered, "Don't thank me. You didn't want to hear that, not really. I shouldn't have told you. I'm... sorry. Do you want me to go for a little while?" He offered smally.

Really all he wanted to do was hold her but he wondered if maybe she couldn't stand his face anymore. Maybe she didn't want to see him at all. Ed took a deep breath. "I can go. For as long as you need me gone. I understand maybe you don't want to see me anymore..." It was hard to even think about Isabella no longer wanting him to be with her. Her wanting to end the relationship. (Of course, he would be better off without her and so would she. This relationship wasn't a healthy one. He shouldn't be allowed to be with her. To corrupt her.)

Ed let go of her hands again and very slowly and carefully got back up to his feet. Taking a small step back as he awaited her telling him to go away.

Isabella: Isabella focused on Edward as he explained how he had taken every measure not to get caught. Her thoughts were coming slowly, and she felt slightly sick. She couldn’t get the image of him stabbing the corpse out of her mind’s eye. She had wanted to know – she’d ​needed​ to know – but now she did. And she felt disconnected from everything. Her thoughts were coming slowly, and they were difficult to really understand. All she knew was that she felt nauseous.

“I understand,” she replied, simply. “You couldn’t get caught. You were backed into a corner, and you had no choice.” She clung to the words, because she knew it was true. The woman had been old, Edward had said. He had killed her quickly, and as mercifully as he could, under the circumstances. She was already dead when he’d mutilated her corpse. He didn't have a choice. It had been necessary.

He had done it to protect her, just like when he’d killed Tom. The anonymous writer could have carried out their threat. Edward had done this to keep her safe. “I know you’re not crazy, Ed,” she said. “You took every precaution. You were very smart.” That was true, so why did she still feel so awful? She knew he’d had no choice. She knew he was capable of extreme acts of violence. She knew that. This didn’t change how she felt about him.

Distantly, she wondered if she was in shock. He took her hands gently, and she looked down at them. He had slit that woman’s face open with those hands. But that was an impossible fact to grasp. It was too odd, and abstract. Edward was still ​Edward​. The only difference was the fact that she knew what he’d done to protect her.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “I didn’t want to hear that. But I had to.” And she knew that was true. She loved Edward. She loved him so much that it hurt to look at him right then, but she had to see the darkest parts of him. If she was going to be with him, then she had to face this, to understand. Edward had trusted her with this, even though he must have known there was a risk that she would leave, or tell him she wanted nothing to do with him. But he'd trusted her anyway, because he loved her.

She kept staring at their hands. Hers held his loosely, because her brain wasn’t telling her to cling tighter. Her mind was working at half its usual speed, and it took her a moment to register what he had said. He thought she wanted him to go? That was the last thing she wanted.

But he let go of her hands, and stood up, and that was enough to jolt her out of her weird state. She looked up at him sharply. “I don’t want you to leave,” she said. She got to her feet and stared at him, imploringly. “Please don’t.”

If she was alone with her thoughts, she didn’t know what she would do. Isabella had to stay with him, to remind herself that he was a good person, that he was still the man she loved.

Desperately, she put her arms around him and held him tightly, pressing her face into his jacket and breathing in deeply, trying to take in the feeling of being so close to him. The feeling of the material of his jacket, and the scent of his aftershave, and how thin he was, with her arms around him, and his muscles beneath her palms as she pressed her hands against his shoulder blades. As she held onto him, she let the horrific images of what he’d done fade away. She let everything fade away.

“I love you,” she whispered, and it hurt to say. Despite this, she loved him. Was there anything he could have done that would make her stop caring about him? She couldn’t think of a single thing, right at that moment, that could have made her stop loving him. Finally, the tension in her shoulders lifted completely, and she allowed herself to just collapse into him. “I love you, Edward. Please stay with me.”

Edward: He figured she wouldn't want to be around him for a while, that she would need space and time but then she spoke suddenly about how she didn't want him to leave and despite himself he lingered. He told her about an awful thing he had done and she... still wanted him to stay? Sure, it was his house but it wasn't like he was going to leave her forever. The plan was to leave her for a couple of hours. Give her some room to think about all of it. It didn't seem like she wanted that though as she got to her feet after him.

He felt her arms around him, her body pressing against his own. The warm feeling of their bodies pressed against him came as a relief to Ed. He was always so sure of everything else. The Riddler's plans and schemes came so very easily to Ed, as did understanding the insane minds of Arkham. What he wasn't so sure of was how she was still able to love him despite being a murderer. She had these strong morals just a couple of months ago. She refused to kill him and Oswald because it would be morally wrong, but for some reason she was alright with dating and loving a man who murdered people before in the past and now the present. How was it she was able to sacrifice something she believed in just to love him?

His mind went back to when he first met Isabella. She greeted him with a riddle, they talked for hours and had so much in common. He then come to understand years later that she was ordered to do all of that by the Court of Owls. (A secret organization that of course Edward already knew about, but she still shouldn't have told him that for her own safety.) It was fake then... but it felt so real now. Was he naive to believe her? That she loved him now? She couldn't possibly just be playing him now. It felt so genuine. The feeling of her desperately clinging to him. Telling him that she loved him.

He knew that he loved her. He thought about it all the time. She was able to squeeze her way into his heart so easily. She was so easy to love. Intelligent, kind to many but strong-willed and independent when she had to be. How could he not love her? He loved her obsession with books because he found himself relating to it. Her soft voice when they spoke at night. Him trying to stay awake, desperate to finish their never-ending conversations because he loved talking to her. He could talk to her about anything and she didn't mind. She never found him annoying... she never groaned in his presence or pushed him away when she had too much of him. He loved her. But it was so strange to think she could really love him... especially with all of his many flaws.

His arms wrapped around her body. Desperate for her affection. He hated telling her about it, having to watch as she struggled with it. He breathed out a sigh and rubbed her back gently. They couldn't be any closer together but he really did crave it. 

Isabella: Isabella placed her mug down and clasped her hands together on the table. She and Edward had been exchanging pleasantries for a while, but there was an undercurrent of tension to the entire situation, and she didn't want to waste their time.

The thought of getting revenge on Jessica for what she had done and said, of showing her that she was wrong about everything, was oddly thrilling. It reminded her of when she and Edward had discussed testing Felicia. It made her heart race a little. But, of course, she didn't know exactly how they were going to get back at Jessica.

"I guess there's no point beating about the bush, Edward," she said, in a cold, business-like tone. "Honestly, Jessica Jones has been irritating me for weeks."

Edward: There was nothing Edward hated more than getting struck in the face. Especially when it was for no good reason. Ever since he became the Riddler, Eddie didn't allow that sort of abuse to go unpunished. He was beyond bothered by the blatant hatred she harboured for him. That woman had no right to judge him when she didn't even know him. No right to hit him and for that she would pay. He sipped on his tea and tried to ignore the soreness that settled in his jaw.

"You're right." He said, giving her a nod at her words. "I'm sorry you have to put up with her," He said softly. "But soon you won't have to. I can promise you that much."

Isabella: Even looking at the bruise on Edward's face made Isabella's jaw clench. She hadn't felt pain in years, but she sympathised with Edward. Jessica Jones had crossed a line. She had been toeing it ever since she had snatched Isabella's phone at the bar, but now she had crossed it.

Isabella gripped her mug tightly, careful not to break it. She had been far too lenient with the other woman. She had listened to her drunken ramblings, and offered her help, and politely asked her to stay out of their lives. But Jessica hadn't. Edward's quiet apology made her smile, though not as brightly as she would have done any other time.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, Edward," she replied. This wasn’t his fault, after all.

There was no mistaking the threat that followed, and she was slightly surprised at how that affected her. She felt a jolt of excitement, but kept her cool, and stayed utterly still. She raised an eyebrow at him. Was he suggesting killing Jessica? As righteously furious as she was at what had happened, she didn't want the other woman dead. Jessica didn’t deserve to die for what she’d done. But she did deserve to pay.

"Oh? What did you have in mind?" she asked in a quiet voice, leaning forwards ever so slightly. If he proposed murder, she had another idea up her sleeve, but she wanted him to lead.

Edward: "Nothing yet, I need more information on her before I can start plotting something. She can't get away with hitting me, or toying with our relationship though," he said.

Edward had done horrible things to people in the fast. He had horrific impulses and deadly plans. He caused a small explosion that took away a man's left arm before for pushing him. He had electrocuted a woman for doing the same thing. No one was allowed to hit him like that. No one was allowed to publicly embarrass him.

Ed practically gave off steam he was so fired up. All this rage had been dormant for years and finally he was ready to release it on someone. "We can't let her just walk all over us."

Isabella: Where Edward's rage was fiery, and his every word burned with anger, Isabella's fury was glacial and restrained. Her anger at what Jessica had done, how she had infiltrated her life and slowly wormed her way to Edward, and assaulted him, was like ice in her veins. Her back was straight, and her shoulders were tense, and she felt very in control. Just like Jessica had told her she wasn't. Just like she was going to prove that she was.

Edward using plural pronouns made her skin tingle. ​Our relationship. Us​. He thought of them as a team. As equals. He had asked for her help, and her input. He hadn’t even asked. He had assumed immediately that they were going to work together on this. It was very flattering,

She took a sip of tea, and forced herself to focus on what was important. She and Edward were in this together. That was clear.

"She won't get away with it," she replied, in a matter-of-fact tone. She wanted to call attention to him referencing their relationship, but now wasn't the time. "If you need information, I can help there."

She smiled, but it wasn't her ordinary smile, which was sunny and genuinely happy, and made her whole face light up. There was no warmth in this smile. It was cold and triumphant. As Isabella spoke, the gears in her head turned, and pieces of a plan started to form. "She has shared a lot with me over these past few weeks. I know about her past."

Edward: "She has?" Edward looked positively intrigued with that statement. Isabella continued proving herself over and over again to him, and despite his anger for Jessica, he felt a warm fondness for the woman in front of him. She was a force. Intelligent – enough to keep up with him but not quite at his level. He respected and adored that. She was gorgeous as well.

"Isabella, do tell me what she's shared." He said, there was a flicker of light in his eyes. Wanting to know what she did. Wanting to use whatever information he could to destroy Jessica for what she has done.

Isabella: Edward was obviously interested, and the attention made Isabella glow with pride. She wanted to knock Jessica Jones off her moral pedestal, and show the other woman that she had chosen this. She had chosen Edward.

Jessica was living proof that Isabella had made the right choice in sparing Edward. Killing the guy who had hurt her had clearly damaged her, and Isabella met Edward's gaze and couldn't remember what it had been like to hate him in that all-consuming, festering, corrosive way. Now, all of her rage was directed at the woman who had dared to insult her by suggesting that she'd been controlled, who had the audacity to hit him. Isabella smiled, eager to share what she knew.

"Well, she's a murderer," she said. "She killed a man who she's made quite clear hurt her very badly in the past. I'd imagine we can gather information on her crime with little problems."

She took another drink, savouring his look of intrigue, basking in it, before putting her mug down and speaking again. "I think that's why she turned to alcohol. His death really weighs on her conscience. She was lying on the sidewalk, drunk, when I last saw her." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I think she's homeless, too, which may come in handy."

Edward: He leaned in a little closer, resting a hand on his chin and listening intently to what she had to say. Her start was a strong one.

She's a murderer.

Isabella stated and Ed perked right up at this latest development. A murderer she said. Well, there was tons of things he could do to her now. Tons of games and traps he could set up with that theme in mind. She thought she was all high and mighty but she killed just as Edward had. She wasn't so different from him at all.

Oh, did he ever want to torture her for believing she was better than he was. Edward was making a life for himself, he was moving on and redeeming himself to society and then she came with her high morals and smacked him right in the face with it. Now it was coming out that she was a hypocrite. She killed a man who hurt her and couldn't put it behind her. She couldn't better herself and be a productive member of society.

Ed just gleamed at the information he was being, his lips curving in a smile as he listened. "Oh, dear." He purred, "She comes up to use with her high morals and yet she is a killer herself. A killer without a home." He hummed. "Isabella... I can't believe people just tell you all of this. God you're... incredible. I bet that you can get information from anyone you please! With ease." What an asset she would be to the Riddler...

Isabella: Watching Edward think was a genuine privilege, and Isabella smiled as he took in her information. She didn't know the details of the murder, or what, exactly, this man had done to Jessica. But that didn't matter. That information could be easily accessed. Jessica would probably not be in the mood to spill anything else any time soon, but that could easily be rectified.

She was arrogant, so convinced that she was right about Edward, and that Isabella was stupid and easily manipulated, and controlled, and it would be easy to make Jessica think that she agreed with her. It would be sickening, to agree with Jessica, to grovel, but it might be necessary. However, she was getting ahead of herself. That wouldn't come until later, if at all.

There was a new cadence when Edward spoke, a chilling note that she had never heard before, and it sent a pleasant shiver down Isabella's spine. He was right, of course. Jessica Jones was a hypocrite, projecting her hatred of the man who had hurt onto Edward. They were nothing alike.

"Hypocrisy, thy name is Jessica Jones," Isabella replied, smiling.

She had to avert her gaze when he called her ​incredible​, to keep herself from blushing and smiling in a very unprofessional way. Incredible. Coming from anyone, that was a compliment, but coming from Edward? She had butterflies, and was relieved that she was able to stay so still, and keep her expression so passive, except for her warm smile.

"Oh my, thank you, Edward," she said, unable to keep the happiness out of her tone. But then, when she next spoke, it was cooler again, business-like. "The Court trained me very well. I'm very empathetic. But, of course, you already know that. And people tend to underestimate me a great deal."

There was a bitterness to her tone that surprised even her, and she blinked once, and tried to refocus. "I can get more information from Jessica, but I would have to lie about you. I'm sorry."

She reached out a hand, almost to take his, but she didn't want to be presumptuous, and stopped half way across the table. "She won't tell me anything now. I would need to make her think I'd distanced myself from you. Then she would open up."

Edward: "Yes," He said, reaching after she did and taking her hand. He saw her reaching hers out as an invitation for Ed to hold his. "It would be beneficial for us if she is to believe we are not in cahoots at all. Give it a little time to cool off and then go to her – crying, preferably. It would be easier to work against her if she trusts you.

You said this man was terrible to her? Probably an abuser? Dig up information on what he was like by speaking to her. I'll try and find files on him or any information at all, really. I want to get his voice down pact. A perfect imitation. We may not be able to hurt her that easily, but if he has this much impact on her I bet he'll be able to."

He smiled, almost cruelly at what he had in mind. They could bring this man back to life in her memory and torment her easily with him. Rub who she had killed right in her face so she knew that she was not the moral woman she wanted to believe she was. So she was reminded by what she had done.

Isabella: They were together on this. Holding Edward's hand like the affirmation that Jessica hadn't broken them, the way she'd planned to. She projected her own relationship with an abuser onto Isabella and Edward, and had judged Edward to some insane moral standard that didn't even allow him to defend himself.

As she thought of all the chances she'd given that woman, every offer to help her, Isabella felt the righteous anger freezing her veins again. She hated that she would have to lie, to play Jessica's game, but she could see a silver lining. It would be a fascinating character study. A chance to observe Jessica’s reactions to emotional stimuli in a controlled environment. And Isabella was a very adept liar, and she didn't often get to put that skill into practice.

"I might preface going to see her with a few concerning texts," she said. "To make her think I'm wavering, so it doesn’t come out of the blue for her. And then I can visit her and say that I've cut you off." She held his hand a little tighter when she spoke, to reassure him that she wouldn't dream of doing that.

"When I start at the S.C.P.D., I'll have easier access to records," she said, excitedly. "I'll see what I can find then, as well."

She met his gaze, steadily, genuinely awed by his plan. What would hurt Jessica Jones more than her abuser? "Oh, yes! Edward, you're a ​genius​! We can make her think he's come back from the dead! I’m proof that's possible, after all."

Edward: He was practically bursting with pride as she went on. What a beautiful plan they were concocting together. He never liked making plans with other people because well – they never fully understood the way his brain worked. They didn't like his riddles or his ideas. But she did, and she added to the idea. Giving it more life and depth.

She was the only person he could think of who he truly enjoyed working with and this was only a few minutes into their devilish plan. How was she such a perfect partner? Could he somehow convince her to join him on future endeavours if he ever did go back to crime? She would be so good at it.

She squeezed his hand and a little heat started on his cheeks. You're a genius. She said and his heart pounded a little quicker in his chest as he was realized by her.

He leaned a little closer to her across the table and gave her a bright smile. "How are you so perfect?" He asked her, his other hand – before he could really think about what he was doing – reaching out and cupping her cheek. "Yes, you can check the files at the S.C.P.D. I'm... glad you got your old job back, by the way... It'll be nice to work with you, again."

Isabella: ​How are you so perfect​? Isabella's breath caught in her throat at Edward's words. He thought she was perfect. Edward, whom she had always thought was arrogant and selfish, who she was notoriously difficult to impress, had called her perfect, and accepted her help, and praised her additions to their plan.

This was ​their​ plan. Plural. They worked together seamlessly, like they were two halves of a whole. How had she ever thought she could live without Edward? She had been pieces of two people, disconnected and fragmented, but orbiting her life around him was pulling her together again.

"I… I’ll look for them on my first day. I’ll make it my priority," she said, stuttering a little, still overcome that he’d called her perfect. When he put his hand on her face, her skin tingled, and she could feel his breath on her lips. "You are?" she asked, softly. She had been afraid that he would feel crowded, like she was walking into his territory. But he wanted her there? She could hardly believe it.

"I was worried you would feel that I was... invading. But Jim asked me and I just had to say yes." she said, stuttering a little, overcome that he’d called her perfect.  She smiled. "My first thought was of you, actually. That I would be working with you again. I’ve missed you, Edward." It seemed like the right time to say that, being so close to him, with her heart racing and his hand cupping her cheek.

Edward: There seemed to be a many ways Isabella made herself useful to him. Not only was she intelligent but she did have easier access to files, and she had a face people just trusted, and even made a name for herself as a trust-worthy person.

He wondered if she ever learnt how to fight. If she did, that would help immensely. Eddie was a punching bag of sorts to a lot of people and the skill had never interested him when say – he could learn yet another language in the time he would spend getting stronger. There were hireable henchman who could do that sort of thing and – Why was he even thinking about all of this? Was he not reformed?

... He would do this one thing. Torture Jessica, then he'd go back to the normal, bland life he had been fighting for, for five years.

She said she missed him and he lit up red like a Christmas Tree. "You did?" He whispered, "I missed you too... it's been lonely around the apartment since you've been gone. It almost made me wish I were still gravely injured so you can take care of me. I – I know it's... odd to wish sort of thing, but I – " He stammered. It was only so long before she got to him. Damn his awkwardness.

"In any case, I'm glad I'll be seeing you at work. Though for the time being, we shouldn't talk too much in public. We need to look as though we're drifting apart."

Isabella: Isabella's smile changed when Edward blushed. It became sunny, and genuinely happy, at the sight of him looking so endearingly awkward. He'd missed her too? He had wanted her living with him again?

"Of course I did," she replied, gently. His stammering was adorable, and it grounded her. Watching Edward getting flustered made her feel, oddly, less flustered, though his hand was on her cheek and he was looking at her like she was the only person in the whole world.

"You're right. We should avoid one another in public. But I don't want to not see you, Edward." She spoke in a rush, remembering what Jubilee and Harley had told her. She had to come clean. And he had missed her too, hadn't he?

She forced her tone to stay steady and matter-of-fact. "I don't mean to impose... And if you want to refuse, you can. Of course. But we will need to see one another, if we're going to work out the finer details of our plan." She met his gaze. "Perhaps I should move back in here? It makes sense to stay away from one another in public, to avoid suspicion, but we're still going to need to work out our next move. And that would be easier to do if I lived here."

Edward: It would be easier if they lived together, that was true. Their plot would come together more seamlessly if she was under the same roof as him. Not to mention there would be no records of phone calls or text messages that way.

"Yes," he said. He wanted her to live with him anyway. He missed having dinner with her or watching TV. He liked those moments they had shared together. She was a constant in his life. Her presence not only made things easier when he was weak but reminded him that Felicia and his breakup was not one he should be lingering over.

Felicia was no Jonathan Crane or Isabella Flynn. The two of them had intelligence he could respect. Whereas Felicia was street smart, she couldn't keep up sometimes in conversations with him. She wasn't a perfect match for him. But perhaps Isabella still was.

"I want you to stay with me. You can have the guest bedroom for the time being. It is... so wonderful to be working with you Isabella. And to be living with you." He squeezed her hand gently.

Isabella: Isabella had hoped that Edward would want her to move in, even if only to make planning easier, but to actually ​hear​ him say it was still a relief. She breathed out slowly, and couldn't stop herself from smiling.

Her life hadn't been the same at the condo. It wasn’t just because of her fight with 5. She hadn't moved in with the rest of the family, and she'd never felt at home there. Ever since she'd left Edward's house, she had wanted to come back. She'd gotten used to being with him, to their long hours just reading or watching movies. The condo had never really been her home.

For the time being. The unspoken implication in that phrase made her blush a little. As if her not sleeping in his bed wouldn’t be permanent. But this wasn’t the time to think about that. Even letting her mind wander in that direction was ridiculous.

"Thank you for agreeing to let me stay. I’m so glad," she said, softly, meeting his gaze. "I'll start moving out as soon as I can. And I'll text Jessica in a few days. Maybe tomorrow."

When he squeezed her hand, her breath caught in her throat. How ​dare​ Jessica Jones imply that Edward was a monster? That he was anything like the man Jessica had killed? How dare she suggest that Isabella wasn't in complete control? Well, they would show her. Together.

Oswald: Oswald paced around the dining room, grouchy as ever and checking off his mental checklist as he did. “I DON’T UNDERSTAND!” He practically screeched. “I said HALIBUT! She made Pot roast?!? I wanted FISH!” His henchman tried to calm him but nothing seemed to suffice. To be fair, Os just wanted a nice dinner with his friend and his ​succubus​. He even made sure to have an exorcist on speed dial — his priest friend who’d never judge him.

“What are you standing there looking at me for!?” An octave higher and he’d shatter the windows but everyone knew by now that if he got this​ loud they needed to get out of his way. “The glasses, place them to the left of each setting please! Oh and I want the finest wine in the cellar. Yes I know we just filled out. I DON’T CARE!” His old friend Joker had been so hospitable, setting him up with his new position and helping him furnish his new home. How he missed his friends dearly.

“Boss, are we poisoning her today or…?”​ Penguin gripped his cane tightly, his nostril flaring from his sneer. “How… DARE you? DO NOT EVER repeat those words around me again! IsabellAH is my guest! She will not be poisoned today!”

Today. Tomorrow was a different story.

He finally took a deep breath deciding not to kill his henchman or the cook and simply sat in his chaise awaiting the arrival of his guests.

Edward: The interview had placed the man in a particularly good mood that day. He had driven his car to Isabella's to walk with her to the bus stop. It was his way of making sure she was going to go. Still in his best suit from the interview, a charcoal, three-piece suit. A black tie with his old question mark tie clip he made from a typewriter himself (a long time ago). It was amazing that he had kept such a small thing. But it was one of his first items he had done with a question mark on it. The first of his brand. Edward was sentimental, he kept things like that.

He wondered what made bussing easier to Isabella then riding in a car. Perhaps it was the option of having an area she could stand in instead of sit? There were no seat belts to hold her down and the emergency door in the back made it 'safer'. None the less, he was happy to ride with her – mostly because he was just happy she was really coming. Ed was just bursting with pride. Wanting to tell them both about his possible new position.

Once they made it to Oswald's, Edward rung the doorbell and gave Isabella a look. Curious about how she felt about this.

Isabella: Ever since Edward had told her about this dinner, Isabella had been dreading it. Logically, she knew that she wasn't in any danger. Not because Edward had made Oswald promise he wouldn't hurt her – the promise of a criminal lunatic meant nothing to her – but because she didn't feel pain, and she was armed with Joker’s knife. She was also stronger than both Edward and Oswald. Logically, she knew that. But that didn't stop her heart from pounding on the way to Oswald's house.

Why did it have to be at his house? What if he gunned her down the moment she walked through the door? What if he stabbed her in the back? She wasn't going to eat or drink anything, in case it was poisoned. She might not have been able to feel pain, but she didn't know how indestructible she was.

But none of her concern showed on her face, and she adopted the same blank expression that she had worn when she'd spoken to Joker at his club. Unreadable, empty, and cold.

She and Edward were silent on the bus journey there, which was both a blessing and a mercy. Isabella couldn't think of a single thing to say.

When, at last, they arrived at Oswald's front door, she caught Edward's glance and immediately broke away, to look back at the door. She wanted to meet Oswald's gaze when he opened the door. She didn't want to be caught off guard. The only sign that she was afraid was her hands, which were clasped together tightly in front of her, so tightly that she thought her knuckles would burst through her skin.

Oswald: Oswald, despite knowing his guests would be arriving at his door soon, still jumped at the sound of his bell ringing, dramatically so and one of his henchmen came over to straighten out his suit patting him here and there causing Oswald to glare and swat him away. “OKAY! ENOUGH!”

He took a deep breath as the other backed away and the Penguin rolled his shoulders back, gripping his cane and limping over to the door. “Who is it?” he shouted in a sing-song tone and opened his door wide open “JUST KIDDING! I knew it was you two, silly geese!” ​Tone it down, Jesus fucking Christ.

He stepped to the side to the two could walk in and he paid close attention the body language. They were obviously more than just friends but whatever, it wasn’t a time to dissect. “Come in! We’re in the middle of arranging a lot but I’m rather proud of how it looks right now. Isabella, you look lovely. Is that a Jewel Neckline? You look ravishing.” She looked like an idiot but that was besides the point.

Edward: Edward grinned widely as his friend opened the door. Inviting the two of them inside, "Hilarious, Oswald." He said, not being sarcastic at all about his friend's joke when he opened the door. "I have a joke too. Well, it's more of a riddle. What do you call a Penguin with a machine gun?" The riddle seeming to come out of nowhere, but Edward always had tons of them and this one he considered quite entertaining.

Oswald complimented Isabella and Eddie looked her over as well. She was quite beautiful, but that was to be expected. In everything she wore he found her ravishing. After a moment too long, he pulled his eyes away from Isabella. She was only his friend, nothing more. And he didn't want to give the wrong impression to Oswald. If she didn't mean much to him, Oswald wouldn't consider her a threat to their relationship.

Isabella: When the door opened, Isabella inhaled sharply through her nose, and forced herself to stay completely still. She looked at Oswald, and didn't smile at his over the top charade. It was easier to see him than it had been to see Edward for the first time, because he hadn't directly killed her. Her only unpleasant memory of Oswald was when he'd come to her apartment, to break up with her on Edward's behalf. But she knew who he was, and what he was capable of.

She walked past him, grateful that Edward was between them, and nodded once at Oswald's compliment. If they were going to play that game, then she could play with the best. She flashed him a smile. "Why, ​thank you, Mr. Cobblepot! And thank you so must for having us." She mocked his overly excited tone, jovial and exaggeratedly friendly, but her gaze was telling. Her smile didn't meet her eyes.

She glanced at Edward in disbelief, and realised that she shouldn't have been surprised. He used riddles to alleviate his nerves. She knew that. "Actually, Edward, that ​is​ more of a joke. But come on, Mr. Cobblepot." She turned to Oswald and smiled, a little more triumphantly than she should have. It was a stupid, childish, test. "What ​do​ you call a Penguin with a machine gun?"

Oswald: Oswald smiled even wider than Isabella as he greeted her into his home. The fact that he was doing this for Ed spoke volumes of how much he wanted to cooperate and if Factory refurbished Barbie didn’t get that then Edward really needed an eye opener. Not today. Today he’d be on his best behavior. He wanted to shower Edward and Polly Pocket with the greatest meal, compliments, and of course dessert.

“Thank you, dear.” He replied to the woman and grinned as he looked up to Edward. “I have no idea…” He looked over to Isabella, with a stern expression. “Some of us aren’t good at riddles you see. I leave that to someone capable like Ed here. But please…do tell!” He had been too stressed to even conjure up a reply. A penguin with a machine gun? That was him on a Saturday!

He took Isabella’s coat and passed it to his henchman. “Be careful with that. It’s fine quality.” And then he led them towards the living area. “Please have seat. Dinner should be ready soon. So, Edward, Isabella... How have you two been? Really.”

Edward: "You call him sir!" Edward gestured to the henchman, "At least he would!" He laughed, unable to stop himself. Edward did consider himself funny – he was probably the only one but that never stopped him. His grin stayed settled on his face.

Ed was happy to see Oswald and Isabella both behaving. Though it was obvious Isabella was uncomfortable, she was tensed up in the shoulders. He wanted to move behind her and curl his fingers around her muscles to relax them for her – but that was likely considered inappropriate. So he held off.

He walked after Oswald into the living area. Having a seat as he was told. "I've been absolutely splendid! This week has been incredible for me. Besides a couple of mishaps, of course." He boasted, glancing to Isabella for her answer.

Isabella: Isabella met Oswald's gaze, and was surprised to see that there was no challenge there at all. He must have been really trying to keep up appearances. If she wasn't so full of hatred and disgust, she might have been impressed.

She had about five seconds to realise that Oswald was reaching for her coat, and she mentally thanked Hugo Strange for implanting all the clones with impeccable poise. She fought every instinct, and managed not to flinch when he helped her out of it. She'd assumed that he would take it, and had the forethought to keep Joker's knife in her clutch bag, which she wouldn't dare put down.

Edward's joke was just as ridiculous as she'd expected, but she laughed weakly at it anyway, to keep up the game. Her laughter trailed off, and she stopped smiling all together.

At Oswald's request, they walked into the living area, and she waited until Edward was sitting down before sitting too. Her whole body was tense, coiled like a spring. She felt at a disadvantage, sitting when Oswald was standing, but she gripped her bag a little tighter, and kept her gaze trained on him. "I've been fine, thank you," she said, politely. "I ran into an old work colleague, which was a pleasant surprise. It was lovely to catch up with him after so long."

Oswald: Oswald genuinely laughed at Edward's joke. It was a nice way to move along from the awkward and from the lack of sincerity on both Isabella's and Oswald's behalf. He actually felt some guilt especially hearing that Edward had a good week. That caught his attention of course. Anything positive coming from the same friend that had been crestfallen just days ago was welcomed in Oswald's eyes. He might be selfish but his barriers came down for his old friend.

"A whole week? We must drink to that!" And he flashed an exaggerated smile to his henchman who practically slipped and fell when they made their way down to the cellar. Oswald would take care of him later. He shouldn't have to repeat himself. It was so hard getting decent help these days.

When Isabella spoke, he sat on one of the empty couches, crossing one leg over the other, listening to what she had to say. "Oh! How grand! I ran into an old friend too and now here we are! Old friends are always beneficial to keep. They know all our secrets." He winked at the woman, surprised that she even had any friends. Were drones even able to communicate? He wondered how that worked.

Edward: Edward smiled to his friend, he had been a good luck charm. Why, as soon as he came back, things seemed to start turning around for him. How strange.

"Oh!" He said suddenly hitting his head lightly with the palm of his hand. "I should have given you the wine at the door. How forgetful of me." He said, taking it out and passing it off to Oswald. He had been so caught up in his joy that this was happening that he had forgotten all about giving the wine to Oswald. What a disorganized mess he was!

His stomach had butterflies in them ever since they got to the door. Perhaps it was for Isabella. Some nervousness on her behalf. Edward had nothing to worry about in his best friend's house but Isabella was so tense.

He placed a hand lightly on Isabella's shoulder. Trying to bring her some ease. "Ran into an old friend...? Who?" He asked her curiously. Wondering if that old friend was from her life as Kristen made the smile he previously had fade.

Isabella: It was a small relief when Oswald sat down. Isabella knew that she was being irrational – Oswald's infamous moniker came from his limp, didn't it? Even if he did try to attack her from across the room, she would have been faster than him. Even standing, Isabella was taller than him. And yet, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders when he sat down and listened to her and Edward speak, apparently enraptured.

He looked completely at ease, but Isabella couldn't relax. She wasn't as on edge, now they were all sitting, but she was still sitting with a ramrod straight back, her knees crossed, and her hands clasped together on her knees, with her clutch bag in one hand.

She glanced to Edward when he held out the wine. Though she had seen him carry it the entire way here, she still didn't want to drink it. What if her glass was coated in something? What if something was slipped into her drink when she wasn't looking? She certainly wasn't going to drink the wine Oswald ordered from the cellar.

She just looked at him when he blinked at her. What was his angle? Was he genuinely trying to befriend her? It felt like he was being patronising. She gripped her knee a little tighter.

She was so distracted by Oswald's pleasantries, his odd attempt at a private joke, that she jumped a little when Edward put his hand on her shoulder, and turned to him. "I'm sorry?" she asked. "Oh. Yes. I ran into Jim Gordon at the coffeehouse." She turned back to Oswald, and her tone was decidedly colder. "I don't actually ​have​ any secrets to keep from the Commissioner, Mr. Cobblepot. He's just an old friend."

Oswald: Oswald pressed his lips together into a thin line. Watching Edward comfort the harlot from the blue lagoon proved to be almost too much for him and he decided he needed to loosen up to continue with this charade.

"No dear. Not to keep secrets ​from​. Keep secrets ​ with​." Seriously? How vapid was she? "Jim Gordon is a good man. I'm glad you two are friends. What about you Edward? What's got you so thrilled?"

His henchman finally returned with three glasses and the wine from the cellar to which Oswald rolled his eyes. "I change my mind. We'll have whatever Edward brought." And with that, Oswald handed the bottle to the other who then popped the screw off to pour.

Edward: Jim Gordon? He bit his lip a little. He was friends with Jim as well. He wondered if Isabella would tell him about what he had done. He let go of her shoulder almost awkwardly. About to ask her about what her and Jim had talked about when Oswald addressed him instead, glancing over at him.

"Oh!" His mood was beginning to brighten again as he thought about how his efforts at work finally paid off. He had done this on his own and fairly. And it only proved how great he was at his job and how his reformation really could work out for him. "I finally had an interview this morning for the position I wanted. I think I got it, he seemed extremely impressed by what I'm capable of. As he should have been, of course." He said, just gleaming. Finally he was seen for the impressive man that he truly was.

Isabella: Every time Oswald called her ​dear​ made Isabella's skin crawl. He'd done it twice already. She realised that she'd missed his point completely. She'd hardly been following what he'd been saying.

And that was when she realised she couldn't wallow in her own fear. It was distracting her, making her less sharp. Paranoid thoughts were clouding her judgement. In trying to weigh up everything Oswald was saying and doing, trying to spot the hidden meaning in his every word, she was neglecting to focus.

She tore her gaze away from Oswald, and smiled brightly at Edward, her genuine happiness at his news dampened by their present company. "Oh my, Edward, that's wonderful! I'm sure you've got it. That was the coroner position, wasn't it?" She remembered how much he had wanted that job back at the G.C.P.D., and she imagined that hadn't changed.

When the wine and glasses were carried into the room, Isabella cleared her throat a little. Who knew what Oswald's lackey had been ordered to coat her glass in, while he was out of the room? Was Oswald trying to back her into a corner? It would have been a little odd, but still within the realms of politeness, to refuse a glass of the host's wine. But to refuse to drink Edward's? He wanted to make her look paranoid. He wanted to make her look distrusting. Well, she wouldn't let herself be cowed by him.

She drew her shoulders back a little, and raised her free hand to gesture ​no​. "Oh, none for me, thank you, Mr. Cobblepot," she said, her tone civil, but barely veiling her coldness. "I honestly don't feel like drinking. But please, you two go ahead."

Oswald: Oswald was practically beaming as Edward expressed his joy over the interview. He had this. Sure Oswald did have a hand in the all but in the end, it would be Edward's skills that got him the job. "Well done old friend! Why I always knew you'd end up chief coroner. I hope you mentioned your experience in politics. They just love hearing that. We should toast then."

That's when Medusa spoke and decided to ruin the entire thing! "You're not drinking with us? Oh don't be silly, Isabella. It's a toast." Was she pregnant?! "Wait. You’re not ...?" His eyes flickered towards her abdomen. "I have non-alcoholic beverages as well..." Was this the motive for Edward's desperation in them meeting again? He was about to lose a week's worth of meals.

Edward: "Yes, chief coroner." He told Isabella with a smile. Glancing back to Ozzy as he congratulated him as well. "Thank you, my friends!" He said, including both of them. He was still pretty excited, though anyone could see Edward was far more superior then those he worked with. He was the only genius on staff. The only one remotely qualified for the position, in his opinion, anyway.

He was about to join in with Oswald, telling the woman he cared about to join them in a toast. Then – Oswald's over dramatic voice peaked again. Implying she was pregnant. Ed shot a look at her as well. The smile off his face again. Shocked at the mere suggestion of it.

"Isabella?" He had a million questions in his head and all of them needed answers, immediately. If she was pregnant, who did she sleep with? Was she seeing someone else? Why did the idea of that make him feel a pang of jealousy? He shouldn't be feeling this way. Isabella wasn't his. He swallowed, waiting patiently for her response to Oswald's question. "You're not even seeing anyone... right? Why would you be –"

Isabella: ​Don't be silly, Isabella.​ As much as she was loathed to admit it, was Oswald right? Was she being paranoid? But one look at him reminded her exactly of what kind of man he was. It wasn't paranoid to assume that the man who had orchestrated a train collision to get her out of the way would attempt to poison her.

She was about to explain that she just didn't feel like drinking wine, when he insinuated that she was pregnant.

Oh, god.

Was this another ploy? He ​had​ to know why she didn't want to drink anything, didn’t he? Or was she giving him too much credit? Maybe he didn't think she was smart enough to realise he might poison her.

She turned sharply to Edward, hardly believing what she was hearing. He thought she was pregnant? He believed Oswald's unbelievable accusation? She let out a disbelieving laugh.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she snapped, hardly wanting to warrant that ridiculous thought with a response. "Of course I'm not pregnant, Mr. Cobblepot." She had the sudden urge to cover her stomach, but stopped herself, and kept her hands together on her knees.

And righteous fury, which she hadn't felt for months, coursed through her again. She glared at Oswald, her head held high, and her entire body tense. "I'm just not going to drink anything from the glass of a man who orchestrated my murder," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, edged with hatred.

Saying it was almost a relief. They had been acting up until this point, dancing around why Edward had organised this insane meet-up. But now she'd said it, and she didn't even blink as she met Oswald's gaze.

Oswald: Oswald swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. Up until now he had been doing fine or at least he thought so. Even his henchmen had wide eyes staring at each and every one of them. Anyone from the outside would have thought this was the plot for a soap opera. In fact, he probably watched one similar to it when he was in Arkham.

When Isabella denied being pregnant, Oswald took a deep breath, gripping his cane and trying not to come off too relieved. When she explained her reasoning for her refusal, Oswald tilted his head slightly to the side, his gaze meeting the one of the sea witch.

"I see." He licked the top of his teeth, blowing some air into his cheek and then releasing it with an audible pop. "HAHA! Of course! Where's my mind? Once a murderer always a murderer my mum used to say!"

He stood up and limped towards the kitchen, away from his friend and the one that shall not be named. He pulled out a sealed bag of red solo cups from when he first moved in case he needed them and then waddled back into the living area, tossing the bag onto the stone coffee table. "It's sealed. I don't want you choking on a delicious meal because of me." Oh the irony in his words.

And with that, the cook announced that the food was ready to which Oswald replied "Bring it out then. I'll sample from each dish. Thank you." He didn't look back to his guest and took his seat at the table hoping they'd at least join him. He did this for Edward. Anyone else and the little idiot would be dead.

Edward: At Isabella's words, he felt disappointed in her for a moment, though he also understood it, he didn't like the way it was so suddenly said. But that couldn't really be helped either. He frowned. She had snapped at Oswald and glared at Ed for being insecure enough to believe she might have been with other people.

He wasn't keeping an obsessive eye on her. He knew who she hung around with, purely out of curiosity. There was that man who bought her new flat for her and who knows if she had other suiters at the bars she went to with Harley. He didn't know and he didn't want to judge. It was just – he couldn't possibly know if she was pregnant or not.

Of course she didn't look it but women didn't usually show physical signs or a baby bump until at least 12 - 16 weeks. He was glad, though. Relieved that she wasn't. He wouldn't know how to further their relationship if there was a baby involved, selfishly. Oswald's response to it, he was grateful for. He kept his cool and even came up with a solution for Isabella. Maybe some wine would make her feel better, more relaxed. His frown left his face as Oswald said he would taste all of it.

"Thank you, Oswald." He told his friend. Hoping Isabella would be alright with that. He cared about Isabella, liked her a lot more then he could say. And he was glad he wouldn't have to worry about her, or Oswald during the dinner. They would hopefully be keeping civil.

Isabella: For a moment, Isabella thought she was going to have to pull out Joker's knife. She didn't move a muscle, and maintained eye contact with Oswald. Rage coursed through her as he got up and limped out of the room. She looked at the cups suspiciously. This could have been a back-up plan, in case she refused to drink from his glasses.

But even as she thought that, she felt the fight go out of her. She couldn't out-think Oswald at every turn. She couldn't second guess his every plan. If he had done something to one of the cups before sealing them in the bags, she had no way of knowing. And he was going to eat the food before letting her eat it, just as she herself had done for Edward, when she'd nursed him back to health.

She was still furious that he'd asked her if she was pregnant, that he had put her in such a surreal and humiliating situation, and that he hadn't even acknowledged the fact that he had murdered her in the first place. But she didn't know what else to say about it. It was what it was.

"Fine," she said, bluntly. She saw Edward’s disappointed expression out the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. Let him be disappointed in her. He couldn’t honestly expect her to go the entire evening without mentioning it.

Edward's thanks was pointless and ridiculous. Oswald hadn't done anything to warrant thanks, in her opinion. But she was tired. Her back hurt from sitting so tensely, and her fingers ached from gripping her bag, and her chest hurt from the quiet fear she'd been carrying with her. Edward wanted her to be polite, to forget what had happened.

Quinn: Shifting from one foot to the other when he waited, convincing himself that it was okay for him to stop by to say hello. Totally not weird at all, even though he could have easily just texted him a hello and how's it going. Rubbing the back of his neck, he didn't know he was being seen, but when Jeremy moved, he thought he heard a noise on the other side of the door and straightened up his posture, dropping his hand. He was all prepared to have a bright smile up on his face when the door opened, but then he got something he absolutely wasn't prepared for. Jeremy clutching a towel around his hips, damp hair, and a long stretch of torso between the two sides of the leather jacket. Gobsmacked, Quinn opened his mouth, hoping he'd remember the English language, but that and other languages were gone for a few seconds while he stared. Then the words, "I don't know that's what they meant when they said hand wash," just kind of tumbled out while he was looking at the leather jacket and torso, before his eyes were able to tear themselves away and back up to his face. "Uh, ​hey​, should I come back later? Sorry, I just kind of-" His eyes had dropped back to the towel and completely derailed his thoughts and he ended up clearing his throat and looking determinedly up at Jeremy in the eyes.

Jeremy: Of all the things that could have happened this morning, Jeremy never would have guessed that they would involve Quinn seeing him essentially naked. Not only that, but he couldn't have just pulled one of those moments straight out of a movie, where the guy opens the door in a towel all cool and nonchalant. He had to go and put on a jacket and make the whole situation a hundred times more awkward. But when Quinn commented about how that's not what they meant by hand washing, the whole ridiculousness of the situation caused Jeremy to burst out laughing."Well, I did warn you that I know nothing about fashion," he said. How horrified he had been at the whole situation seemed to evaporate for a moment, until he saw Quinn's gaze drop to the towel he was clutching, and then Jeremy coughed awkwardly and stepped aside. "No no, come in. Uh... I'll go put on some clothes. You can hang out..." He waved (thankfully he remembered to do so with his free hand) towards the general vicinity of the kitchen and the living room before darting off into his bedroom in search of pants. "I'll be right back. Make yourself at home."

Quinn: Realizing he made it awkward again by not being able to help himself looking down again, he was determined not to look at him below the neck again while he was still dressed like that. Surprisingly, Jeremy didn't banish him from his doorstep, so he stepped inside, peering around with interest. "Yeah, of course," He said when Jeremy was excusing himself from the room, doing a good job of not looking at him, though he was pretty sure it was burned into the back of his eyelids at this point. Only in the best way, of course, but he was not going to let himself think about it right now. Whether it would sneak back up on him later, that was for him to deal with later. Taking a seat, he kept looking around as he tried to get a general sense of how Jeremy lived.

Jeremy: Having hastily thrown on jeans and a t-shirt (black, unfortunately, but he didn't have time to analyze his color choices at the moment), Jeremy hurried back into the living room. The place had books and papers scattered all over the place from his working the night before. "Sorry about that," he said, scooping up his homework and making a haphazard pile on the table. "I wasn't expecting you today." He hovered by the couch, uncertain if he should sit down even though it was his own apartment. "I was about to make coffee. Would you like some?" He busied himself by hustling over to the kitchen counter and putting on a pot of coffee. His place was pretty small, and the kitchen opened right into the living room area. "How was your trip?"

Quinn: Looking back over when Jeremy re-entered the room, he did his best not to snort when he saw the black shirt, biting his lower lip to keep from commenting, instead watching him try and clean up, feeling a little guilty. "No, of course, I didn't say." Rubbing the back of his neck, he got back up when Jeremy went to the kitchen part instead of sitting and Quinn decided to sit on the arm of the couch so he could at least be facing toward him. "Yeah, sure, thank you." He was trying not to let the nerves get to him, instead expelling a breath and watching him make some coffee. "Hmm, it was good! Not a lot of sleep, kind of a whirlwind, really. I actually ended up being in Germany the longest. Or maybe Spain was equal... I've lost count at this point," He tsked.

Jeremy: Jeremy busied himself making coffee, staring intently at the machine as he poured in coffee grounds and water. The memory of the day they had that barbecue had played over and over in his mind constantly. He'd been debating how to proceed, and had reached no decisions in the time that Quinn was gone. "Did you get to do anything fun there or was it mostly just premiere stuff?" he asked, finally turning back towards the living room to find that Quinn had perched on the arm of the couch. The coffee maker gurgled in the background. "Or maybe it's all old news for you and I'm just here wondering if you had the chance to be a total tourist." After a brief pause, Jeremy smiled across the room, a genuine one that let the initial awkwardness of the surprise visit go. "It's good to see you."

Quinn: Smiling slightly when Jeremy turned around, he shrugged at his question. "I've been each place a time or two, but no, not really a lot of tourist time, unfortunately. Spain was really beautiful, but I was pretty much dead by the time I got there, so the most I could do that was touristy was sit in the back of the car and admire the view. Get some coffee from a nice looking cafe, etc... nothing extreme. I definitely need to go back as a vacation sometime." He nodded, looking ponderous before Jeremy smiled and said that and a wider smile had started to stretch across his face. "Really?" He sounded pleased, since part of him had been nervous that Jeremy would feel weird, even if he'd said he wouldn't on the network. His heart did a flip and it was all he could do to stay put where he was. "Yeah, it's good to see you. Even if it was a little more of you than I was supposed to," He let out a laugh, looking sly.

Jeremy: "Sitting in the back of the car and admiring the view sounds pretty nice though," Jeremy said. "I'm sorry it was so exhausting. Do you get a break now?" He did want to know if Quinn would have some time for himself to recover from the crazy string of premieres, but he also wondered how long he'd be back in LA. He coughed awkwardly, a nervous habit of Jeremy's, at Quinn's mentioning seeing more than he was supposed to. "My brain's going to remind me of that embarrassment forever. The leather jacket really was... not my finest idea." As the coffee maker finished up, he poured it into two mugs and rifled about in the fridge. Pulling out a bottle of milk, he asked, "Milk or sugar?" After fixing up Quinn's coffee how he preferred it, he carried both mugs over and handed the other man his. He sat down. "Please sit. You don't have to perch there on the edge of the couch," he laughed.

Quinn: "Yeah, yeah it was, I definitely can't complain about that. Beats homework." He winked at him before rubbing his hands on his own jean clad thighs. "Yeah, I get a break now. No more movie premieres for a while, and nothing coming up until things can get written, or something pops up that I like the sound of, but since Snowden was the last thing I filmed, I'm not going anywhere for a while." Shrugging his shoulders, he tried not to smile too much from Jeremy coughing and being awkward. "I dunno, I thought you might have been onto something." Grinning because he couldn't help himself, he cleared his throat and pulled himself together while Jeremy went back to the coffee pot. "Little of both would be nice." He nodded, going back to looking over the place, thinking it was kind of small but also cozy. Not a bad starter place for someone living on their own in Los Angeles and going to school. Looking back over at him, he smiled and thanked him, taking the coffee mug from him. When Jeremy told him to sit properly, he got up and moved around. "I felt it was right at the time. More sociable. Less... twiddling my thumbs waiting type deal. How was your week?" He blew on his coffee and spread his legs slightly so his knee ended up against Jeremy's though he acted like he didn't notice, testing the waters.

Jeremy: Jeremy laughed and nodded in agreement. "Way better than homework." He looked at his pile of books and papers and cringed internally at how much work he had to do in the next few weeks. Midterms were quickly approaching. "I hope LA doesn't bore you too much with the downtime," he said, hoping the answer would be no partially because he was here. Jeremy wasn't that confident of a guy and didn't find himself that interesting, but Quinn seemed to find him intriguing. He took a sip of his coffee and set it down on the coffee table, using an old assignment as a coaster. When he felt Quinn's knee rest against his, he glanced down briefly, but he didn't move away. Feeling extremely aware of the touch, he cleared his throat and launched into a summary of his week. "It's been all right. Lots of papers, lots of research, but that's nothing new or surprising. Oh! I'm thinking about adopting a cat," he said. "Will Caesar and Antony forgive me if I bring a cat home instead of a dog?"

Quinn: "Sorry." He smiled at him sympathetically for having mentioned the homework he probably had to do. Especially seeing as how he had just invited himself over unannounced, when for all he knew, Jeremy could have been planning to get straight to homework. "No, no, of course not. LA is my home, I always find interesting things to do here. Or people. To hang out with, I mean," He corrected himself when he realized he had said it like that. Often he did ​mean​ it like that, too, but he didn't really want Jeremy to think of him doing other people. Especially when he currently had no interest in it. "Like you for exa-" He had seen the other male put his coffee mug right down on some papers and raised his eyebrows, letting out a nervous laugh. "I hope that wasn't important." He nodded down to it and cleared his throat, listening while Jeremy talked about his week, noticing he hadn't taken his leg away, so Quinn didn't either. "A cat?" His eyebrows raised in surprise and he had to smile about Jeremy's seeming concern over his dogs' feelings. "As long as it's not named Pompey, Brutus, or Augustus, they'll probably forgive you." He grinned, using the contact to knock his leg against the younger male's playfully, sipping on his coffee.

Jeremy: "Oh no, don't be sorry. It's nice to have an excuse to not spend all my time working," Jeremy said reassuringly. He did genuinely welcome the distraction. He blinked in surprise, probably looking a bit like a startled deer in headlights, when Quinn said he found other people to do, but the startled expression disappeared as quickly as it had come. He was glad that that hadn't been what Quinn meant. Not that they were doing anything and Jer was barely capable of even thinking about things going in that direction, but he would still rather not know if Quinn was sleeping with other people. "Right well, you know where to find me if you want to hang out." Glancing down at the papers he'd used as a coaster, he shook his head. "Nah, it's just an old assignment. I don't actually own any coasters. And I will be sure not to name my cat after any of their enemies in history. Although, it would be quite funny, given the dog and cat rivalry." He let his leg fall back against Quinn's. "It's weirdly quiet living in a place without roommates or family, you know? I've never lived entirely by myself before. I thought a cat might liven things up. Is that sad?"

Quinn: "All right. Glad I can help." Giving Jeremy a smile, he tried not to look too pleased about all of it. Especially since he went and made Jeremy look the way he did before he managed to fix that sentence. Part of him wanted to expand on it, tell Jeremy outright that he had no interest in sleeping with other people, but he knew how that would sound, and how "other people" would imply that he meant he wanted to sleep with Jeremy, and... well... Jeremy hadn't even quite known what to do about Quinn kissing him, so he knew that was just a bad idea all around. "Right, and so I did, came and sought you out." He chuckled, taking another sip of his coffee. "No coasters, huh? I guess I know what to get you for Christmas," He joked, carefully setting his own cup down near Jeremy's before he let out a laugh. "Okay, yeah, that would be a little bit funny, actually. Still, I'm sure you can come up with your own good names. Or keep whatever weird name they had, if it's a shelter cat. Patches or Mr. Fuzzy." He winked at the younger man before resting his arm on the arm rest. "Look who you're talking to! My roommates are two dogs, I don't think I can judge. Honestly, it was way too quiet in that place without them. Too quiet and too still. And sometimes you just want another creature to come seek you out and give you affection." He let that hang in the air for a moment before clearing his throat. "Or something."

Jeremy: Jeremy couldn't one hundred percent tell if he was thankful Quinn hadn't continued to dwell on the sleeping with other people thing or if he wanted the conversation to continue. He'd been battling with what to say to Quinn ever since the other man had kissed him and had been unable to come up with any sort of explanation. He figured that Quinn assumed that he was just another guy uncertain of his sexuality or trying to hang onto the possibility that he was completely heterosexual. How to explain that that was only a small percentage of the reason Jer had issues was a monumental task. "I guess I thought you would have texted me first but I'm not complaining," he laughed. "My mom used to tell me to use coasters but I never did and now I feel like I've failed her somehow by not having coasters." The thought of a cat named Mr. Fuzzy practically made Jeremy shudder. "My cat is going to be way cooler than Mr. Fuzzy! I would get a dog if I could but my schedule is still pretty up in the air as a student and I feel like I don't want to leave my dog at home for extended periods of time. I like cats anyway. I think having a pet is therapeutic. I'm just afraid I'm going to end up with a cat that doesn't seek me out at all and actually hates humans. That would be disappointing."

Quinn: Smiling sheepishly when Jeremy admitted he would have expected a text first, he shook his head. "Sorry... I mean- I would ordinarily, it just..." He trailed off, wondering how to not sound pathetic about the fact that he had woken up after getting home and decided he really wanted to go and see Jeremy. It had only been a week and some handful of days, how could he have missed him? It was ridiculous. "- Wasn't thinking about it, obviously." He cleared his throat quietly and listened to him say he was disappointing his mother. Letting out a laugh, he shook his head. "​Definitely​ know what you're getting for Christmas." Smirking, he watched in amusement as the younger man actually shuddered at the idea of those names. "No, yeah, I understand. Dogs can be a lot and I feel guilty when I have to leave 'em with some friends but they're definitely worth having, when you can. Well, just go to the shelter and make friends with one who obviously wants some love and attention? The people there should be able to tell you what they've gathered about their personality, usually. It would have to be a very silly creature not to want to seek you out."

Jeremy: "You just missed me too much to wait for a response to a text, right?" Jeremy teased. He laughed casually, but it was a comment that by Jeremy standards, was very bold. He tried to settle the butterflies that immediately flared up in his stomach by drinking some of his coffee but some of the liquid went down the wrong way and he ended up coughing like the very not smooth person that he was. His cheeks flushed and his mind immediately started jumping to a million worst case scenarios about how Quinn was going to realize right then and there that he was way to cool to be wasting his time on Jeremy. "Sorry, you don't have to answer that," he said, offering a little awkward smile. "And I was thinking cats are smart little critters. What if it just wants to be adopted so it acts like it loves me but then secretly turns out to be the devil, you know?"

Quinn: Quinn's eyebrows rose in surprise from Jeremy's words. He was teasing Quinn... that was quite the turn around. Quinn couldn't help but grin and laugh a little, flustered, but before he could answer Jeremy choked on his coffee and so he reached around to pat him on the back. "Don't die there! Because... well, yes. Texting didn't feel fast or good enough. I would much rather get to clap my eyes on you. So, you can be sure if I missed you that much in a week, I'd be very sad if you went and died." He wet his lips and smiled, though there was a tempest of nerves going on in his stomach, wondering how bad it was that he decided to drop something heavier into Jeremy's teasing. Even if he had tried to make it lighthearted, he knew he was getting a bit real on Jeremy. Picking up his coffee again, he chuckled at that idea, shaking his head. "Oh, man, uhm... I don't know that I've heard of cats having the knowledge to dupe people like that.. or the ability to be nice to someone they actually hate." He chuckled. "That sounds like a human invention, to me."

Jeremy: Finally getting a handle on his coughing fit, Jeremy pushed his cup away from him. He was embarrassed and frazzled, cursing himself for being so nervous. "Doing my best not to die," he said, taking a deep breath and straightening up in his best attempt of outwardly brushing off how much he wanted to sink into the cushions of the couch and disappear. He had to pause for a moment before continuing, working up the courage to be serious. "Well, I did miss you too. I did a lot of thinking while you were away. I guess I was worried things would be weird or whatever when you got back, even if we said it wouldn't be weird." Jeremy still wasn't entirely convinced cats didn't have secret devious lives but it was probably more likely that Quinn was right. "If I get conned by a cat, I'll let you know."

Quinn: Though Quinn knew at some point they would have to get a little serious, to address the whole bit where he kissed Jeremy, he had thought they would skirt around it a bit more. However, Jeremy had been thinking, as he said, so it probably felt like something that needed to be gone over sooner rather than later. Straightening up, he took another sip of coffee before setting it aside again, looking over at him while he was speaking, trying to show he had his full attention and he wasn't going to get anxious over the topic. Even if he didn't know how well it would go, though Jeremy confirming missing him also felt like a good sign. "We did say that," He agreed, nodding slowly. "But I also know that people say that and don't always manage to stick to it. Especially if it was said online instead of in person, like it was. I mean... I don't, though, feel weird." He exhaled, resting his hands on his own legs, giving him a tentative smile. "I kissed you. I wanted to kiss you. I just probably shouldn't have sprung it on you like that, so really, I won't do it again unless I have your permission first, and if that ends up being never, then- I'd understand that, too."

Jeremy: This wasn't the first time in Jeremy's life where he had been faced with the situation of having to decide what to do when someone expressed romantic interest in him. Previously, he had always dismissed the possibility and just cut the person off entirely. But things were different now compared to when he was twenty, and the childish act of running away no longer felt appropriate. Plus, he knew that Quinn deserved better. The last thing that he wanted to do was to lie to Quinn. "You surprised me... But it wasn't just that you kissed me, it was that I wanted to..." He trailed off, unsure how to phrase what he wanted to say. The pause stretched out for so long that it started to feel painfully uncomfortable to Jer. When he spoke again, the words tumbled out in a rush. "The truth is that a lot of shit happened to me when I was a kid and I haven't been able to be with anyone. Ever. And that sounds so pathetic because I'm twenty-seven about to be twenty-eight and I feel like some ridiculous high school boy trying to navigate his first crush. So I didn't know how to react when you kissed me. I just wanted to tell you that I don't want to run away. And well... that's a first for me."

Quinn: Looking over Jeremy's face while he spoke, he had not had too many experiences of the other man sounding like they were unsure of their sexuality, the way Jeremy sounded right now, but it wasn't entirely new to Quinn. When Jeremy trailed off, he hesitated, not sure if he was going to speak again or not, but he was just about to start in with some speech about being okay with how you are and how you feel when Jeremy spoke in a rush. Then, it was just words that stuck out to Quinn. When he was a kid. Haven't ​been​ able to. First crush. Quinn certainly went through a roller coaster of emotions but he knew he shouldn't focus too hard on the last part. Or shit, should he? He parted his lips, a dozen questions on his mind now but he managed to try and narrow it down, and say something else first. "I... won't even pretend I know what you mean or how that feels, but... I will say that I'm really glad you don't want to run away. If you ever did, would you... tell me first? Maybe I could help, or right whatever I was doing wrong."

Jeremy: Jeremy could feel his face burning. He hadn't had this conversation with anyone except for his parents when they were still just his foster parents. The words caught in his throat and it felt like he was choking on them. He wanted to explain in more detail what he meant and give Quinn at least a vague picture of what had happened to him in his childhood but no matter how hard he tried, nothing came out. When Quinn asked if he would tell him if he felt like running away because maybe he could fix it, Jeremy let out a sad, strangled sounding laugh. "I don't think you could do anything wrong. It's just me. It's entirely just me." He sighed, his fingers nervously tapping against his thigh. "I've never even tried to explain it before. But now that I've tried, I understand if you didn't sign up for this mess. You have better things to do than wait around for me to sort through my issues and I get that."

Quinn: That laugh that came out of the younger man had his heart lurching sadly in his chest. He was doing his best not to ask questions, figuring Jeremy would tell him if he wanted to, if he could, but not wanting to pry and touch on things that might be too sensitive for Jeremy to want to discuss right then. "I just mean... if something changes to where you do want to run, and it has anything to do with anything I did- you could tell me." He wet his lips and nodded. Quinn's eyes were drawn to the movement, seeing Jeremy tapping against his thigh as he spoke. Exhaling at his words, he puzzled them over before he slowly moved his hand over and slid it up under Jeremy's, his fingers closing around the back of his hand, squeezing his hand and hoping it would afford some comfort. "No, I didn't "sign up" for it... but maybe I'd like to?" He raised his eyebrows, looking up from Jeremy's hand to his face. "I'm not holding onto any expectations, and I'm absolutely your friend before anything else. I like you, and I'd like to stick around. If that's okay."

Jeremy: Jeremy wasn't entirely sure what Quinn wanted him to say if one day he felt like he did want to run. Would it make things better or more forgivable somehow if he said it out loud? Maybe he could just add it to the forever growing list of things that he didn't understand about having feelings for someone. But for the time being, he nodded. "I'll tell you. I'll try to be as honest as possible with you. That's what I'm trying to do now but I'm kind of messing it all up." Having fixed his gaze directly ahead to avoid looking at Quinn, afraid to see the look on his face, he was startled when Quinn took his hand. Although he jumped a little bit in surprise, he didn't pull his hand away. "I want us to be friends, at the very least. And if you really won't hold onto any expectations, that's probably good. I don't want to disappoint." He slowly let his gaze drop to their hands, and his fingers instinctively tightened ever so slightly. "We'll just take it day by day, yea? See what happens?"

Quinn: Giving a reassuring smile, even though Jeremy was working very hard not to actually look at him long enough to see it, he felt a little guilty when his touch made Jeremy jump, but luckily not recoil. He wouldn't feel terribly sorry as long as he didn't make Jeremy want to recoil. "You're definitely not messing anything up, and I don't think you could disappoint." He leaned back against the couch, nodding even though he didn't know whether Jeremy would see it. "Yeah, that sounds good to me. We'll see what happens." Smiling at the idea and the fact that Jeremy hadn't taken his hand away, he observed him with interest. "Now, we can move onto something more lighthearted, if you like? Unless you have anything you want to ask me, or say, that is."

Jeremy: He definitely could disappoint, Jeremy knew that much. It was extremely challenging to be limited emotionally, and though he knew that romantic relationships didn't define his platonic friendships, he wondered often if the fact that he didn't have any truly close friends was because he couldn't tell anyone about his past. But there was no sense in getting into a length discussion about that now, and besides, he didn't like being such a downer. "All I want to say is thanks. For being understanding. There have been people in the past who couldn't stand my vague answers and pushed for more specifics. So... you're a breath of fresh air. In more ways than one." He straightened up, putting on a smile and letting go of the previous topic of conversation with the ease of someone who had practiced dodging the subject for years. "Why don't we go do something fun? Have you eaten breakfast yet?"

Quinn: Looking over Jeremy's face, he nodded, though it felt odd to him to be thanked for any of this. Thanked for not judging him or being frustrated just because Jeremy was finding something difficult. "I'm sorry they did that, but I promise I won't. You'll talk about it when or if you're ever ready, and I'll be here to listen then." Quinn wasn't entirely sure what that meant, to be a brief of fresh air in more than one way, but it did make him happy to hear and his smile was genuine when Jeremy looked at him with one of his own. Just then, he was focused mentally on their hands, curious about how long Jeremy might last before he pulled away. Or should Quinn do it for him so he didn't have to? Oh, lord, he was overthinking it now. "Just a bit of toast, s'all." He chuckled. "Are you wanting to go out? You'll tell me to buzz off when you need to get to your homework though, right? I don't wanna make anything difficult."

Jeremy: Jeremy shrugged. "I got used to the reactions. I think they thought I was being cryptic on purpose," he said with a dry laugh. He was interested to discover that he did actually want to find a way to tell Quinn. It was just that some things were so deeply stuffed away that talking about them was like opening a giant can of worms. With his thoughts racing, he momentarily forgot that they still held hands. It felt natural, like it was something that they did all the time. Even when he became aware of the touch again, he didn't feel like he needed to hurry to break away. "I'm not going to tell you to buzz off," he laughed. "And you're not making anything difficult. Homework can wait a few hours. So if you want to, let's go get some food. I'm kind of craving pancakes."

Callum: When his phone buzzed it jolted him forward. He pulled the device out of his pocket and smiled reading her text. He shot one back telling her not to rush and that he was here. He stood up, grabbing the flowers and made his way over towards the doors, though standing behind a small group of people who were holding up signs. When people started to come through the door his eyes watched each person exit. It wasn't until the end that he finally saw her emerge. He moved around the people and smiled when her eyes rested on him. He held up the flowers and started to walk towards her. "Hello, love. How was your flight?:

Katerina: Spotting him, she felt her heart do a flip and she instantly had a wide smile stretching over her face. Katerina had to remind herself to walk at normal-ish pace like a normal person, thankfully meeting him fairly quickly since he helped close the distance. "These are for me?" She asked before thinking to answer his question, throwing in a reply in a hurried after thought as she briefly let go of her carry on handle to take them. "Oh, it was fine, long, but oh my goodness, these are so beautiful!" She took some care not to hurt the flowers as she quickly wrapped her arms around him, and leaned in to kiss one of his cheeks and then the other, noting how he smelled as she briefly put her chin on his shoulder. "Thank you so much, you are too sweet."

Callum: He didn't know how she would react to the flowers, or him being there, he didn't want to seem pushy. "Yes, they are." He laughed. "I hope they fed you fine. I know meals on flights are not the best." The hug was unexpected, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and welcomed the kiss on his cheeks. He held on a little longer, taking in her scent and the way her body molded to his. "They made meet think of you." He let her arms fall first before he took a step back and reached down for her carry on. "Do you have any other luggage?"

Katerina: "I didn't really eat much, I tried to sleep mostly." She shook her head and smiled, looking at her flowers from over his shoulder. She drew back after another moment. Looking at him as she stepped back, she flushed slightly as reached for her carry on. "No, just that and the book bag. You really don't have to get that." She shifted the straps of her book bag on her shoulder. "You're already doing me a favor, coming to pick me up. Which I really do appreciate."

Callum: "If you are no hurry, did you want to get some breakfast? Or lunch?" He noted the way her cheeks tinted a pinkish hue. It suited her. "What kind of gentlemen would I be if I allowed you to carry your luggage out and I had nothing?" He raised a brow at her and started down the long hall. "It was my pleasure to come and pick you up Katerina. It will allow us to hang out for a little. I am sure you are jetleg and would like to get home soon to relax. Possibly sleep."

Katerina: "I... would love some food. Almost the first thing I want to do after getting off a plane is to eat real food. Usually something not warmed up in a microwave. Or whatever they use." She chuckled, looking over at him. Biting the inside of her cheek when he what kind of gentleman he'd be, she nodded once before smiling at him again. "I guess so. Thank you. At least that one has wheels, anyway." Walking down along the airplane hall way, headed to the outside, she combed her fingers through her hair. "Eventually, but I have some time to crash from it, this weekend."

Callum: "I know a little cafe we could go to. It isn't too far from here." He could understand why she wanted real food. Most of his flights were first class but even then the food could be iffy. Callum put the smaller luggage down and used the wheels. He kept to her side when they moved through the airport. His car wasn't parked too far away. He popped the trunk of his BMW and placed the luggage inside before moving around to open the passenger door for her. "That is good. I will try not to keep you too long then." He smiled closing the door before going around to climb inside the driver's side. He pulled on his seat belt and started the engine. He reversed out carefully. "Tell me about how things were on site?"

Katerina: "Cafe? I suppose as long as they have something warm and starchy, I'll be okay." She shook her head and smiled. Cafes in her mind always meant small single serve pastries or expensive pre-made lunch wraps, but she was willing to give it a shot if he wanted to take here there. His car came into view and she admired it for a moment before fishing her purse out of the book bag and putting the heavy book bag into the trunk as well to be locked safe away while they were inside somewhere. Looking around at him to see him opening the passenger door for her, she chuckled and thanked him. At this point, she had given up trying to dissuade people from opening car doors for her, since it would be too many conversations and it hadn't gone too well the one time she tried. Instead, she tucked herself in so he could close the door and then buckled as he went around to the driver's side. "How things were? Well, it could get quite chilly, but thankfully the costume department had lots and lots of spare cloaks and things like that.It was amazing, though. To get to see how it's all done, and all the other extras and people on set were very nice."

Callum: "It isn't like one of those cafe's. It is a bistro cafe where they make proper breakfasts. I like their crepe's and omelettes. I tend to go there at least once a week." He smiled at her. The driver wasn't too bad for a Saturday morning, considering it was LA. He turned on some music in the background and would find himself glancing over at her every so often. "Is it wrong of me to say that I miss the cold sometime?" He laughed. "I was so used to it growing up and being able to swear jumpers, sit by a fire and drink hot coco." He shook his head. "Did you feel alive? Like that was where you were supposed to be?

Katerina: "Oh! That sounds lovely, then. Just right. At least once a week, hmm? So you're showing me a favorite spot?" She looked at him, smiling. Luckily, she didn't have to watch the road, so she was able to observe him, having not seen him in person in a while, and though anyone could concede he was attractive, she was mopey enough not to care who was attractive or not, but now they were going on a date, or two, or three if this counted, and now she was able to see up close how nice his smile was and his eyes crinkling when he laughed. "No! That's not wrong at all. I said the same thing, and so did Thane, actually, so you're in good company with that thought. You'll certainly get enough cold if you go back for Christmas, though." She chuckled, leaning back in her seat, going quiet to consider his question before she nodded excitedly. "Yes, it did, it felt wonderful. Like all of the good feelings I get about my current job, amplified."

Callum: "I guess I am taking you to one of my favourite places." He smiled. "I hope you don't mind." He didn't want her to think it was a bad idea. He worried that he would give her the wrong impression. He brought the car to a stop at a red light. It allowed him to look over at her, to really take in her beauty. When she smiled it seemed to light up her whole face. He hadn't thought they would see each other so soon, since the played for next weekend to be their first date. Would this count as a date? Then they would meet on Wednesday to spend time together. He wanted to ask her to join them for dinner tomorrow, but wondered if that would be too much. When the light turned green, he brought his attention back to the road. "We UK's know how to appreciate cold weather. It isn't the end of the world. It also allows you to cuddle up in a blanket." He had his moments he would do that. Usually when he would lose himself in reading. "This is true. I might be staying in LA if Aubrie can't get the time off. I do not want to leave my sister alone for the holidays." He was happy to hear her say that. "Then you know you are on the right career path."

Katerina: "Why would I mind? I'm actually quite pleased to be introduced to a new place, and to see something you like enough to go back "at least" once a week." Giving him a smile when he looked over at her, she felt her heart beating a little faster for being under his gaze again, telling herself maybe she was still a little wobbly from the plane. Looking back at the road again, she chuckled "Yes, we do know how to appreciate it. And complain about it. Appreciate it quietly while publicly complaining about it." Smiling, she nodded and briefly pictured him getting cozy under a blanket and inviting her to join him. Biting her lip, she looked down at her lap for a moment before looking back at him. "Oh, of course! I can understand how you wouldn't want to go and leave her. Sure, she would have plenty of people happy to invite her places but it would probably feel weird at home, and she should be with family if she can be."

Callum: Callum around the corner and saw the establishment up ahead. He now spent his time looking for parking spot. Sometimes it could be a pain the arse. "Maybe I will see you there the time I go in." He mused on the idea a little longer. He laughed. "That does sound like us. We would do all the complaining over a nice cup of tea and biscuit." He eventually found an empty spot and parked the car. He climbed out of the car and moved around to watch her climb out. It was ingrained in him to open doors for others. "She told me she would make it feel like Christmas like it would back home. I would have to go home at one point though. Even if it is after the holidays. I still would like to see my family." He offered his arm to her. "I promise not to keep you too long and usher you home afterwards." He smiled down at her.

Katerina: "Maybe," She glanced over at him and smiled even though he was too busy looking for a parking spot, which was definitely important. Otherwise they would just be driving forever. "Of course... oohh, biscuits... no! No, breakfast." She straightened up when he parked, and didn't even think about letting herself out until she noticed he was over on her side so quickly, then she almost apologized for opening her door first but kept that back and just took his arm, slipping her hand around the crook of his elbow. "Well, then, you will definitely get to feel the cold, no matter what. Something to look forward to. The complaining, and the tea." She grinned at him as they entered the cafe, shaking her head at his promise. "I'm not worried about it. I have plenty of time to be back home again."

Callum: He laughed realising he had hit a new desire for biscuits. "My grandmother has a recipe that will leave your mouth watering. You will have to let me make them for you." Callum closed the door behind her and looked down at her hand resting on the crook of his elbow. Nothing felt awkward with them. There was a more comfort feeling. When they stepped inside the cafe, he found that the table he likes to sit at was empty and pulled the chair out for Katerina, waiting for her to sit down before he moved around to the opposite side. He liked it because it was off in the corner but still at the window. "Yes, complaining and tea. But not today." The waitress came over and offered them both a breakfast menu and greet Callum by name. "Hello Jessica." He smiled at her. "I will have the usual tea." He turned his attention back to Katerina. "What would you like?" He waited until she ordered.

Katerina: "Does she, now... you'd ​make​ them for me? I was expecting you to say you'd share the recipe with me." Tsking, she smiled, squeezing his arm with her hand placed right there. "Well, you should know I don't forget these things, so I'll keep bringing it up, periodically, until you do." Grinning,she let him lead her to a table, not knowing it was his preferred spot, just thanking him when he pulled her chair out for her and taking a seat. "This is very nice," She commented, looking around the cafe, her attention was pulled back by the waitress coming up and them knowing each other's name, only surprised for a moment before reminding herself the once a week. Whether she meant to or not, she started sizing up Jessica, but when their attention was on her she smiled politely, ordering a spiced tea for herself.

Callum: "Of course I would make them for you." He would have to make them at least once before, see if his baking skills still existed. "I wouldn't mind that. You will have to keep me on my toes, work can tend to pull me away from my social life." He saw the way Katerina looked at Jessica, he couldn't help but smile a little. When Jessica had left with their drink orders, he leaned across the table to whisper. "You should see her girlfriend Amber." He winked at her. "I am quite fond of their eggs and benny. They also make good omelette's, and you can never go wrong with waffles." He was leaning more towards an omelette for himself.

Katerina: "Well, it is important work, but I can try and make sure you come up for air here and there. To make me biscuits." She laughed, but had sobered up a little when Jessica came by. She wasn't someone who got mean to people easily and especially not servers, so she was doing her best to be polite. Looking over at Callum leaned over, she started blushing when he said that. "Oh- I- that's lovely! I mean- you, being such a friendly regular. To know things like that." She chuckled, hoping to laugh off her having been ridiculously wary of another woman. "Do you change it up a lot, your food? I mean, you have a usual drink. I think I'm still craving something bready, or else I would certainly try an omelette."

Callum: "Work is important." He chuckled. "Well it would seem I would have you and Aubrie to make sure I come up for air. Now to add the make biscuits part. That would mean you would have to come keep me company in exchange." He teased. He would never complain if she kept him company. Callum would never admit how much he liked seeing her blush. His arm reached out and the back of his fingers grazed her cheek. "It has been three years. I do know most who work here." He moved his hand back. "They sometimes have specials and I will try it out. I do have a few that I like most of the time. You should have the eggs and benny. You get the bread in there, but their sauce is good." He licked his lips. "I might have to that myself."

Katerina: Struggling to contain a smile when he teased her, she said, "I think I could manage that," before she couldn't hold it any longer and let a smile spread across her face. She didn't expect him to touch her cheek but she shivered slightly as the result, her eyelids fluttering as the threaten to close but she kept them open so she could look at him while he was speaking. Muscles she didn't know she had stilled relaxed when he took his hand back, not sure she could quite blame the plane for feeling like he had spelled her for a few moments. "They-.. have specials? That's good to know. I suppose they're also the type of place to serve things seasonally. All right, I think you convinced me." She smiled. "I don't know if I'll be able to finish it all, but that does sound good and comforting right now."

Callum: "I think I would like that." His tone was quiet. The smile that was plastered on his face would not leave. He knew his cheeks would hurt after the amount of smiling he was doing. Callum was observant. He noticed the way she reacted to his touch. The way her eyes fluttered shut briefly. He never thought he could have that affect on someone, especially someone like Katerina. "They do have specials. I don't see any today." He thanked Jessica for bring their tea. "We will both have the eggs and benny, please." He placed the order with the waitress and watched her walk away. "I was leaning towards an omelette today, but all I could think about was how good it is and wanted it. You should take home what you don't eat. It would be a waste." He made his tea to his standards. "What is one thing I should know about you?" He asked.

Katerina: "Only sometime specials, huh... I guess you have to pay close attention." She smiled and looked over at Jessica, thanking her as well, more warm to her smile this time, now that she was a little less curious about their relationship. Watching him doctor up his tea, she chuckled, resting on her arms. "Hmm, and does that happen often? Impulsively going after something because you can't get it out of your head?" She teased him before shaking her head and blowing on her tea a little bit, not wanting to scald herself on it. "No, you're right, I can take it home." When she deemed her tea acceptable to drink, she took a sip from it while considering the question. "Hmm, that is a very good question." She could think of a few answers that were pretty light hearted, but then he might think she wasn't taking it very seriously. "A tough question, too. Perhaps.. that I'm not one any thing? People are usually surprised about things with me. I don't think there's any one person that knows everything about me, but I don't think that's necessarily- me not letting people, just- well, there's different layers."

Callum: "You will have to pay close attention, or have to join me for another breakfast to see what is available." Callum saw the way Katerina acted towards Jessica now and couldn't help but smile. He wondered if he would have done the same if it was some male waiter that she had know. He was sure there were other people who wanted her time as well. Callum told himself that he would continue seeing her until she told him otherwise. He wasn't aware that she was watching him make his tea, he was too busy looking at her. The way she blew on her tea to cool it down before taking as sip. Maybe he was looking at her lips a little too long. He waited patiently for her to answer his question. "Why would anyone think you are one thing?" He could see where she was going. He was sure most only though of him as a doctor. Not quite interested in know what he liked to do when he wasn't working; since work took up most of his time. "Well I hope I get to learn about these different layers."

Katerina: Slowly smiling at his suggestion, a sparkle in her eye when he said she'd just have to join him, she nodded her head, replying, "I may have to just do that." The thought of having breakfast with him again already made her feel good, lighthearted. Sipping on her tea, she thought she might have seen him looking at her mouth but he was so sweet and attentive when she was trying to answer his question that that thought was soon forgotten. Shrugging and shaking her head, she bit her lip. "It's just- a lot of people have expressed surprise when they find out I'm not a naive or innocent individual. That I am not scandalized by the slightest infraction. Or be shocked by something I said like it seemed impossible that I may. The fact that I'm not like that gets mixed reviews, but always a bit of surprise, first of all." Shutting herself up for a moment, she smiled when he said that and nodded once. "You certainly may if you like."

Callum: He liked the reaction he got from her when he mentioned her joining him. "I will keep you to that." He half-teased. Before he could carry on the conversation, the waitress came by with their food. He thanked her and once she was gone he turned his attention back to Katerina. "I think a lot of people judge a book by its cover before really getting to know the person. I would hate to do the same thing. I think over time I will be able to get to know you for who you are. If that is fine with you." He smiled at her, picking up his utensils to cut up his eggs and benny.

Katerina: Chuckling at the tease, though even if he was serious, it would have been fine with her, since she couldn't imagine not enjoying the prospect at least a little bit. Or a lot. Whichever. Thanking their server, she looked down at the food, opening her mouth to comment when he spoke first and she looke dback up at him intent on his words, giving him a smile. "So polite," She grinned. "Yes, I think that will be more than all right with me, actually. I can hardly think of something that sounds better. ​Maybe​ this." She gestured to the plate of food, smiling. "Luckily, I can have both, though, so I'm a happy girl." Cutting off a bite sized portion, with a bit of each ingredient involved, she tried it and made a noise of enjoyment, nodding her head.

Callum: They ate in silence for the next couple minutes to finish their food. It was more delicious than he remembered in being and noted that Katerina didn't eat all her food, which he expected, it was on the larger portion. He took the napkin off his lap and placed it on top of his finished plate. He was grateful that she wanted him to get to know her better and hoped she wanted to get to know him better. He smiled at her. "You must be tired. I should probably get you home."

Katerina: The tea had perked her up somewhat but she knew that if she were to go home and lay down she would be asleep within minutes, so she smiled shyly before nodding slightly. "I am, yes. I don't know why because I slept a bit on the plane, but..." She shrugged her shoulders and when Jessica came back, she asked her for a box for her leftovers, then softly argued that he didn't need to pay because he had picked her up from the airport, but didn't try all that hard to stop him, in the end.

Callum: "I know how you feel. I have done those flights before." He smiled at her, asking Jessica for the bill when she came over to the table. Callum insisted he pay the bill, he wouldn't have let her otherwise. It was the least he could do for her coming out to breakfast with him instead of going straight home. He carried the food out to the car for her as she carried out the flowers and he opened the car door for her. The drive to her home was not as far as he thought it would be. When they arrived, he collected her luggage and walked her up to the front door. Saying goodbye was the hardest considering how much he was enjoying her company. "I will see you soon. I am looking forward to Wednesday and our date."

Sam knew he hadn't hit all the things he meant to have hit within their first week together, partly because he'd been in a Honeymoon haze, the second of their relationship together, but this one felt more complete. They didn't have to come up for air to please a Mistress, or hide from another slave rented by the mistress. No, indeed, they had been together and completely alone, and because of that, Sam had found it hard to want to do anything other than keep to their bed. But after one of the nights he worked, since he inevitably did have to work, he made himself go to the computer room first, asking around about collars. The other keeper in the room managed to help him locate a site, and since he couldn't very well bring Blaine in here, he printed out several pages of collars images and stapled them together before hurrying home, to kick off his shoes. "B, I got us something."

Blaine hadn't been forced to leave their little suite, and as a result, he was still in a happy haze of submission. He'd spent the day dreamily dusting and waxing their furniture, rearranging pillows on the bed, and just generally cheerfully puttering around with little smile on his face, singing to himself now and then. When Sam came in, he hurried over, and though his Master had never requested being greeted in any particular way, he dropped to his knees at his feet and pressed a kiss to his hand before standing and flinging his arms around his neck. "What is it, sir?"

Sam knew they had a few things to iron out, especially how cute Blaine was not knowing how he should greet him. Not that he minded that necessarily. Chuckling when he kissed his free hand, he wound his arms around him, careful not to crunch the papers as he did so. He scattered kisses up and down Blaine's neck before humming happily. "It's- well, I picked out some options for us. For your collar. I know you wouldn't care if I just picked something and gave it to you, but it'd feel more special, to me, if you helped pick out something. That and I maybe printed out- uh, a different kind of list, one we're gonna go over together."

Blaine let his head tilt back, making a soft wordless noise deep in his throat as Sam kissed him. The mere mention of his collar sent a rush of emotion through him. "Oh," he breathed, rising up on his toes and cupping Sam's face in his hands, staring longingly at his lips as he finished speaking, then surging forward to kiss them. It was tempting to see if his Master would let them get lost in the embrace, move towards the bed - but no, he really did want to look at the pictures. He'd been eager to pick out a collar since the moment Sam had brought him home. And he remembered them talking about this - how Sam had wanted him to have a choice, since he'd be the one wearing it for the rest of his life. Sam had spoken about it almost as if it were an engagement ring, which he'd found endlessly endearing. The mention of a second list had him confused for a moment, and his mouth had opened to ask what kind of list, until he remembered that conversation as well. He'd actually requested that list... Still, his face turned a bit pink. "Oh yeah... I think I know what list you mean."

Sam found it quite nice and respectful that Blaine waited until he was completely done speaking before launching at his lips, but he smiled to himself against his lips, his free hand running up and down over his back as he kissed him eagerly. There was a temptation, especially after a long shift, to pick him up and carry him back to their bed, but luckily Blaine helped him resist it by breaking away. Smiling down at him when he looked at him all cute and confused, it stretched into a grin when Blaine turned that light shade of pink. "Considering you're blushing, I do too," He teased him before heading over to the couch to drop down onto it. "Do mind grabbing me some water, first?"

Blaine ducked his head in sheepish acknowledgement, smiling as Sam flopped onto the couch. It still gave him joy just to see him relaxed and comfortable in his own home. "Not at all," he said, lightly, turning to fetch a glass. They didn't have much yet by way of kitchen supplies - which admittedly made sense, as they didn't have a kitchen. But they did have a mini-fridge, which at the moment had little more than some leftovers, some beverages, and a tiny half-tray of ice cubes in the little freezer section. Humming a little as he assembled glass, ice and water, he brought it back to his Master, kneeling at his feet again as he offered it. "There you are, sir. Do you want me down here, or sitting next to you up there?"

Sam rolled his shoulders and set the papers down on his lap so he could peel of his jacket, laying it across the arm of the couch for now before picking up a pen from the side table. They'd need that for then the list part happened. Smiling at Blaine, he took the water from him and having a sip or two of it before he put it down on the side table and looked down at her with another smile. "I do like you down there, but you better come up and sit by me so we can look at it together easier. Otherwise we might have to bend awkwardly."

Blaine rose quickly, and just as quickly plopped himself down next to Sam. "There we go," he murmured, resting his head on Sam's shoulder. On the outside, he was calm and practical; on the inside, he was so eager that he had to restrain himself from grabbing the papers from Sam's lap. "Are we looking at collars first? Everything you've printed out is something you like, right?" The last thing he wanted was to get attached to a design Sam didn't really care for.

Sam smiled as Blaine plopped down next to him, holding the papers in such a way that Blaine wouldn't be able to see anything important. "Yeah, I didn't want to spend ​too​ long by myself in the computer lab, so if we don't find anything in here we ​love​, I'll go back again tomorrow and we can look some more then. But these were all ones that I thought looked pretty good. And didn't have things like "Sexy" or "Student" on them. Not that you aren't sexy, but- y'know." He grinned shyly before laying the papers down where they could both see them, the first one being blue on top. http://www.collarfactory.com/images/made...

Blaine nodded, chuckling a little. "Right, right. If you're really sexy, you don't need your collar to tell the world... and I'm not sure I'd always want that to be everyone's first impression of me, anyway." He studied the first picture, thoughtfully. "Well, the lining on that one looks really comfortable... but it doesn't jump out at me just yet. Can we put it in the maybe pile? It might grow on me. "

Sam grinned, reaching up to stroke his fingers over Blaine's currently bare neck. "People can see you're sexy without being told, yeah... but more importantly, I'll be seeing you the most, and I, least of all, need a word to remind me, when just a look from you can get me going." He cleared his throat to remind himself they were busy and he nodded. "A lot of them look comfy in their lining, so yeah, we can put it in the maybe." Flipping over to the next one, white and blue, he bit his lip. This one, this one might be too sweet, somehow... He let Blaine look and comment before he moved to the next one. "I dunno how you feel about the studding but I like this style. But maybe you'd prefer studs if anything."http://collarfactory.com/images/made/gre...

Blaine frowned thoughtfully at the next collar. Blue and white. "Sweet isn't the word I'd use, but I know what you mean," he said. It looked less... imposing, somehow, without some black in it. He bit his lip, starting to get a more concrete idea of what they might be looking for. The next picture, with its red-jeweled studs, actually drew a tiny gasp from him. "Oh, I love that - red's my favorite color, you know, and... well, it's just so pretty..." He wrinkled his nose. "Except for the lining, this time."

Sam looked at Blaine to see his frown, wishing he would say what he meant, but he figured he wouldn't want to say anything rude so he wouldn't say anything at all. His eyes moved away only to hear something like a gasp from Blaine at the next one, his gaze shooting back to gauge his reaction. Chuckling at his wrinkled nose, he bit his lip. "Okay, yeah, I think I got excited enough about the outside I didn't think that one would matter- there's another one like that I think-" He skipped over a couple in a hurry to get to another red and black one, his eyes scanning over it. http://collarfactory.com/images/made/020... "And there's another one like the first one but it's got no fur in the collar, just leather. That seemed uncomfortable to me, but maybe you wouldn't mind."

Blaine felt a slow grin stretch across his face, his heart beating a little faster. Black leather, sparkling red jeweled studs, and a loop that Sam could attach to a leash... "If I'm honest, I never really noticed the plain collars being that uncomfortable, and I guess if I change my mind... it wouldn't be too complicated to put in a softer lining myself?" He looked to his Master, watching his face carefully. "And you really like this one? You know I'd be honored to wear any collar you gave me..."

Sam looked over Blaine's face, seeing his grin, making his own heart do a little flip. His own smile was wide, almost unconsciously done apart from how it felt to strain his muscles. "Yeah, you could always add to it, if you decided it didn't feel comfy enough." He bit his lip and looked down at the collar and back up at Blaine with another smile and a quick nod. "Of course. I do, I think I like that style best of all but I wasn't sure how you'd feel. About the jewels, I mean. But the red and black would look so good on you." He stroked Blaine's neck again, thinking for the first time ever that it looked a little bare. Sexy and beautiful, yes, but long, like something would look good settled around it.

Blaine let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah, I like a little sparkle of color. That's - that's perfect, then." He shivered suddenly at Sam's hand on his neck. "Don't stop, I just... I think I've actually missed having a collar on, since you brought me home from the pit. It was a relief not to have to wear one in the shower at first, but.... I don't know. Back in the day I almost always wore something around my neck - a bowtie, or just a regular tie, or something... I think it makes me feel more... secure, somehow?" He turned, careful not to displace the hand on his neck, to kiss Sam's cheek. "And more importantly... it's going to be a physical reminder that I belong to you, in every sense of the word."

Sam felt his heart was full of love when he heard Blaine's shaky laugh, his hand pausing on Blaine's neck while he registered his request not to stop and then it went back into motion, grazing against Blaine's Adam's apple, over the skin beneath it, tempted to wrap his whole hand around it but it was just a quiet nagging in the back of his head reminding him they weren't done with business. Collar business, perhaps, but not all together. Smiling wider at the kiss, at Blaine being careful to show he didn't mean to get away from the touch, he chuckled and bit his lip. "I never would have thought, before all this, I'd feel so excited to put a collar around someone's throat... but I really can't wait. Can't wait to see it on you."

Blaine cocked his head to one side, his smile turning just a little sly. "Well, but you never thought about a LOT of things before all this. Like being with guys in the first place." Risky, maybe, to start teasing his Master while he had his hand on his throat, and Blaine half-hoped he'd make him pay for it. He wet his lips, wondering if they really had to deal with the list now. "Seriously, though, I can't wait to wear it." His eyes darkened a little as lust took over his brain for a moment. "And to have you pull me around by it..."

Sam quirked a brow when Blaine started to tease him, smirking and slowly circling Blaine's throat as if he might choke him. "Yeah, but that's just pure fact," He retorted playfully, sliding his hand around to the back of Blaine's neck and pulled him forward by it after his boy had made that comment, grinning. " That will be ​helpful​," He teased and leaned in to kiss him, nipping Blaine's lip before he sighed and slowly drew back. "C'mon, I wanna look at this before we get thoroughly distracted. You're gonna sit on my lap and be my notary. I think that's the word I want. Something like that."

Blaine had been more than ready to give himself over, in fact had been just about to bite Sam's lower lip back, egging him on, but with a little sigh, he submitted himself to waiting. After all, this had been his idea. "Okay then, just a sec, please, sir," he said, standing and snagging them a nearby pen, as well as the notepad he'd been using as a journal of sorts, to serve as a flat writing surface. He settled himself in Sam's lap, balancing the notepad on his knees. "All right. So... maybe give me the list, and I'll mark off each item as we go? Or however you want to do it."

Sam smiled softly as Blaine got up, quietly tucking away the pen he'd gotten earlier when he saw Blaine get his own, and made his lap even and comfortable for when Blaine would return, the pages still flipped to the picture of the chosen collar. He carefully tore it from the bunch and set it aside before he flipped over to the end where he'd printed off a list he'd found quickly thanks to some blushing and stuttering and asking the person in the computer room. http://latches.webslaves.com/checklist.htm "Here... anything obvious we already do you can put a check mark next to, like-" He glanced down to find one for example and chuckled. "Like the third one." He smirked, turning his head to nip Blaine's neck. "Where on earth would we be without the ​third​ one."

Blaine 's face turned a bit pink just looking at the list, and he squirmed just a little as Sam nipped him, laughing helplessly. "I'm going to mess it up if you do that while I'm writing, sir," he pointed out, clearly pleased nonetheless. "So, but... wow, you had to print this out with someone watching you? That must have been awkward. Um, number three..." 'Anal Sex', the entry read. "Oh, of course, we'd be lost without THAT. Well, there's always blowjobs... speaking of..." He started looking for that next, assuming it would be near the top of the list, but found it under 'head' instead. "Let's see - giving and receiving head, also yes. Being bitten, apparently that's happening right now, so clearly that's a check... asphyxiation, breath control, and choking are all on here as separate things, but are they really...? Well, I'll put a check beside choking anyway. Bondage, light, that's clearly a check. Probably heavy too?" He didn't really pause long enough in these musings to allow Sam to answer, figuring they'd be going over anything unclear in a few minutes anyway. "Chores/domestic service, obviously a check. Clothespins., only done that a few times, but that's a definite check for me. Cock worship..." Turning a deeper shade of red, he put a large check next to that one, and sang under his breath, "Take me to church..."

Sam enjoyed not having to read, but enjoyed even more being able to tease and sensually terrorize his boy, nuzzling him, letting his hands slowly run over him, trying to be slow and deliberate to not mess Blaine up but to still make him feel it. Laughing against his neck when he checked and spoke about biting, giving him a few kisses where he'd nipped, setting his hands on Blaine's waist. Listening him go down and check everything obvious for them, to get it out of the way, he had to let out another quiet laugh when he heard the song and watched Blaine's blush go a deeper shade. His eyes perused the list, unable to really keep up with the random way that Blaine was listing things off, so he himself tried to start at the top and squinted his eyes at one, his lip twitching. "Put an x next to the large anal plugs because I don't even want that shit in my room."

Blaine 's eyes widened. "Oh, right..." he said, softly, as he quickly obeyed. Anal plugs of any kind seemed harmless enough to him, given that they had a limitless supply of lube and patience. But with Sam's history, it made sense that he wouldn't want to be around some of the larger ones. "I could make a note... how big do you think is too big for us to bother with?"

Sam exhaled, wondering silently if Blaine thought him quite pathetic for that. It hadn't happened to Blaine, so why should he deprive him? But he didn't think he could witness or take part in it, himself. "The smaller ones are fine, of course," He mumbled, feeling a bit ashamed of himself but refusing to take it back now. "Uhm... no more than a few inches around bigger than me? I guess? I don't know. I don't know if I need to be particular as long as it's not-..." He struggled to find a descriptor that wouldn't just upset himself. ​As big as a fist​ just made him upset.

Blaine tucked his pen into the spirals of his notebook for a moment, turning to face his Master. "Hey, no," he murmured, nuzzling his face against Sam's. "You have every right to have a limit, sir." Sometimes the word 'sir' was perfunctory, added to the end of every other sentence as a matter of respectful habit, but sometimes, as it was now, it was as tender and and honey-coated in his mouth as any endearment. "If you're not comfortable with something, I can't be comfortable either. There's not one single thing on this list that's more important to me than you. I guess specifying the limit doesn't matter; you can just only bring home the things you want to use on me - and if we're in some kind of outside situation, I'll just follow your lead."

Sam smiled faintly as Blaine nuzzled his face, so grateful for the little bit of attention and affection at the sudden feelings of vulnerability brought on by the sting of reminder. "Thank you," He said it kind of shyly, quietly, stroking Blaine's waist and giving him a kiss on the cheek. Nothing more important on the list than him. Nothing to be so terribly worried or afraid about that he should feel too guilty refusing. If there was anything that he just didn't know about, he was sure he could just go along with it, but anything else he would certainly try to consider, for the pair of them.

Blaine returned Sam's cheek kiss with a brief peck on the lips - any more than that, and they'd risk getting distracted again. "Okay..." He grabbed his pen again, put a checkmark next to small anal plugs and made an asterisked note: 'At Sam's discretion.' "Anal plugs in public under clothes, obviously that would also be okay, so... moving on... Collars in public or in private..." Tapping the pen against his chin, Blaine pretended to think it over for a moment before laughingly checking both off. "What else have we done and liked... blindfolding, erotic dance for audience, leather cuffs. Oh, we've sort of got required exercise going on - and," he paused and swallowed as he checked it off. "I'd be totally cool with it if you wanted to get even stricter or more specific with that. Um, following orders, check, forced nudity and forced masturbation... well, you really haven't had to force me, like, at all, but that should probably get checked off too..."

Sam slowly slipped back into comfort of what they'd been doing before, resting his chin on Blaine's shoulder and watching him go on the list with his audible notes, grateful to hear them. He was grinning again by the time Blaine was having to think about collars, tempted to tickle him but he didn't want to make him jerk at all with the pen near his face. "You're so cute," He mumbled instead, chuckling quietly. He went back to nuzzling Blaine's neck as he went on down the list to mark off the things they had already done, lifting his head only when Blaine was putting that addendum on the exercise, nodding slowly before Blaine went on. "I mean, I could tell you to stop everything right now and get naked and masturbate and you'd do it, so I think those definitely should be checked off."

Blaine kept his eyes on the paper, scanning for the things they'd done, checking back to make sure he'd covered everything - but he was beaming at Sam's comments. "Yeah, just, that's not really 'forced,' because I'd be happy to do that. So happy." He blushed again, clearing his throat and quickly moving on down the list. "Um, hand jobs, blow jobs, rope harnesses, housework, human puppy dog - I wouldn't mind maybe trying that again, it wasn't a big thing for me, but it seems sort of sad to think that I never would, so... if you ever want to, I'm willing. Ice cubes..." His eyes flicked to the glass of water he'd gotten for Sam, the half-melted cubes still floating in it, and licked his lips. "We haven't done a lot with ice, but in case it wasn't clear, I really like it. Japanese rope bondage, kneeling, obviously, leather restraints, massage... awww, name change is even on here." Blaine stopped for a moment and hugged Sam closer to him, meeting his eyes with an adoring gaze. "Definitely a check."

Sam smiled serenely, Blaine going through and absorbing everything much quicker than he would have been able to. He just followed along the list and licked his lips, grinning at some of the mentions. "Damn, are we ever going to get to something we haven't done? Totally was supposed to be about that, not a list of accomplishments," He joked, squeezing his arm around Blaine. "Not that I mind.... actually walking down memory lane is pretty nice." As Blaine mentioned ice, he nodded, his eyes also going over to the object in question, since it was actually out and near them. "I'd be happy to have more fun with that," He nodded and murmured his agreement. When Blaine stopped his reading to "aww," he looked down to see what he might be going over and smiled widely to himself, squeezing Blaine again, this time lifting his hand up to cup his chin and stroke it, the look in his eye definitely making his heart do acrobats. "That is one of the best checks, really.."

Blaine gave him another quick kiss, then ducked his head. "Well, hey, you said to check off all the things we've done first, and it's a very thorough list. I mean, I guess I didn't have to do it out loud but it's more fun this way. And I think we're almost done with the obvious yes-es.... Nipple clamps, various kinds of spanking, rimming, orgasm control and denial, outdoor scenes, punishment scenes, rules on behavior, riding crops, rituals..." He paused for a second to grin at that. "Rope body harness, scratching, shaving, skinny dipping, slutty clothing in public and private, teasing... wearing symbolic jewelry... and wrestling. God, so many memories." He sighed, happily, and re-adjusted himself on Sam's lap so that he could nestle in against his chest, handing the list back to Sam. "So, the rest if stuff we haven't done yet, or that we might not have thought of, or is awkward to talk about, or might not even want to do. Should we start at the beginning again?"

Sam shook his head. "I'm glad you did it out loud. I'd still be two kinks behind you if you hadn't." He smirked faintly before licking his lips as Blaine continued through the obvious, unable to keep from feeling the growing arousal as thoughts flooded his brain. Shifting, he knew Blaine had to be feeling him hardening beneath him but he decided it was best not to comment on it for now. After all, they still had the list to get back. "So many good memories," He agreed quietly, nuzzling him and then taking the list when Blaine handed it back. "Wait, why are you giving this to me? I thought you were gonna be my note taker?" His lips pushed out in a brief pout before looking down and over it. "Hmmn... well, let's see. Abrasion.. that's a fancy word... something to do with bruises, right? And I don't think we were ever too keen on trying age play..."

Blaine shifted and squirmed a little bit, well aware of Sam's growing erection and deliberately teasing him. "I still am - sort of - but I guess I just, I don't know, would like you to be the one to say some of these?" He bit his lip, suddenly realizing he was asking Sam to read, even if only a little. "I mean, we could take turns, or I could take over once you break the ice a bit? I just get a little shy about some of this stuff... but yeah, I remember now, we talked about age play and that was pretty much a no for both of us. Abrasion isn't actually bruising, it's... scraping. I read a little bit about it in one of Mistress's books; the examples they gave were using sandpaper or rough silk on the skin, or brush bristles...." He swallowed hard. "And uh... I'd be up for that?"

Sam 's breath hitched when Blaine squirmed, knowing there could be no way that Blaine ​didn't​ know what he was doing. He squinted at him playfully before biting his lip and looking down at it, reluctantly nodding. "Yeah, of course, I can read some. If it does the same thing to you as it does to me, it'll be worth it. Definitely worth it." Smiling genuinely now. "Scraping..? Oh..." He listened to the explanation and looked over Blaine's skin closest to him, nodding slowly. "Let's put that on the "up for that" list, then." He nudged him gently before looking down at the list again. "Aromas..? What's kinky about aromas?"

Blaine playfully flicked a checkmark next to abrasion, since he was still holding his pen, then ran his hand over Sam's chest, kneading his skin gently. "That one I don't know. Is it like... making someone smell something horrible, as a kind of degradation? Or maybe it's nicer than that, like... put a blindfold and earplugs on someone and the only thing they can sense is different smells, leading up to sex... I don't know." He frowned slightly, thinking it over. "Either way... neither one is really a 'thing' for me, but I'm not saying a hard no... then again, I guess I wouldn't say a hard no to anything." He sighed again, his hand going still on Sam's chest. "I kind of like being embarrassed, maybe even - humiliated - but not degraded, so much. So..." His eyes flicked up to Sam's, and he gave him a little smile. "Do with that knowledge what you will, sir."

Sam listened to Blaine trying to explain it, his eyes roaming over his face as he did, chuckling faintly. "You're very brave trying to attempt to explain it. Maybe we should put it under "not without further information" or something like that. And some day if we're boored, we can look it up." He smirked, pressing a kiss to the skin under Blaine's ear.. "Hmmnn.. not saying no to anything? As in you'd do age play if I wanted it? Which I don't, but just for example? .. Humiliated but not degraded... I think I'd need more information." He smiled a little and glanced back down at the list. "Auctioned... for.. charity... let's put a question mark down by that one. Ball stretching... maybe to an extent.."

Blaine looked down at his hands, a little unsettled somehow. "Well, I... I wouldn't want to refuse you anything. I know you want to let me set limits if I really need to, but I'd rather put it in your hands, so... if you really wanted to do something that I found off-putting... I'd try my best. But I don't know how to explain it better than that..." As they went on, his head shot up, his tone seemingly contradicting what he'd just said. "You'd consider auctioning me off for charity?!"

Sam seemed confused by the vibe Blaine was giving off, stroking his arm in hopes to soothe him. "Hey... I don't think I'd enjoy doing something you found off-putting any more than you would if I did. Which is why we're going through this list together, instead of me just picking things for us. Okay?" He exhaled and looked back at the list before Blaine's exclamation had his head shooting back up to look at his face. "I mean, I was thinking of some twisted type of event where I had to, but I guess if that's not my own free will, I guess it maybe doesn't count. I definitely wouldn't want to, god knows."

Blaine let out a breath he'd been holding. "Ohhh, okay... that makes sense. I didn't really think you would. I wouldn't count things that events force us to do. Because then nothing would be a limit, because they could potentially make us do anything..." That was a depressing thought, and so he moved on from it quickly. "I know, okay, you're right, sir. You've asked for input from me, so I need to give it. So long as you remember that you have blanket permission to push limits." He took a deep breath. "Ball stretching sounds fun within to a reasonable extent, yeah, which I'm sure you'd stick to, so I think that's a yes then. Armbinders, too, for that matter..." His face flushed as he read the next one. "Bathroom use control, um... well, in theory, I do find temporary periods of really extreme control hot? But I don't know if it's something I want in reality."

Sam nodded slowly. "Oh, okay, you're right. Anyway, it doesn't make sense in the setting we live in. Maybe some people do their own little weird event things at S&M clubs? Or something? I have no clue." He scrunched up his nose and also was happy to let the conversation about anything being forced on them die. Smiling softly, he murmured, "Of course," about the blanket permission and leaned against the couch for a moment, drawing Blaine back against his chest and listening to him, chuckling when he saw the flush in Blaine's face. "You like the idea but you don't know if you'd enjoy it playing out, gotcha. Well, maybe we can try it once, just for science?" Shrugging one shoulder, he peered down at the list again. "Beast-... let's just put an x there right now, yeaah. Uhm- beatings... is that different from spanking and paddling and so on?"

Blaine felt himself relaxing in Sam's arms, any anxiety or shyness slowly melting away as he snuggled against his broad chest. "For science," he agreed, running the tip of his pen down the list to keep track of where they were, and marking a huge 'X' next to bestiality. "Yeah, I think so. I'd think it would probably be other areas of the body, which.... in theory, I'd be willing, but if you want to hit something other than my butt, I'd prefer to be strapped or maybe even whipped... possibly hit with a cane?" He thought it over for a few seconds, then shivered a little. "But really, any way you'd want to hit me is fine by me, so it's only a matter of what you're comfortable with. I know you know what you're doing; we basically took a whole class on how to do it safely." He pursed his lips. "Chest bondage? Is that different from the rope harnesses we've done in the past?"

Sam listened quietly when Blaine explained what he thought beatings meant, his eyes shifting from the list up to him. "Ahh... other places. Yeah, you liked the cane, didn't you?" He smiled, a slight quirking up of the corners of his mouth. "I could try it, yes. Though I can't help but think about that chart our Mistress made me look at, about all the dangerous zones and what not. I'd have to teach myself not to be so paranoid." He tilted his he and made a face as hie thought, ending up shaking his head. "No, I don't think it is. There's not really many ways to bind a chest, I'd suspect, and that ought to count. .. ​Branding​... I'm gonna go ahead and say no to that, since technically you already have my mark on you. Boot worship, heh."

Blaine drew in a slow breath, nearly shivering again. "Well, I like it, and I don't. It depends... it hurts a LOT is all, and if I'm in the right state of mind, that's fine, but if I'm not, it's a punishment. But it's a punishment I'd be willing to take, from you. It's sweet how you worry, but don't forget that there are a lot of safe zones on that chart, too... So branding's out, and - this is skipping down the list a little, but probably tattooing, too? Is it fair to say you don't really want anything to do with needles?" He thought it over for a minute, not sure what Sam was getting at with his short chuckle. "I, uh, would do boot worship if you wanted to. It's not something I crave, but I could see myself maybe getting into it. If you were."

Sam nodded, though he couldn't quite imagine it. He'd gotten riding crops and paddles used on him, possibly a whipping he was blocking out of his memory, but no canings, so he just had to take Blaine's word for it. "Is it... the thing that hurts the most? Out of everything you've tried?" He questioned, looking over his face before his eyes flicked back to the list. "I mean... I don't see either those two things being a ​kink​, y'know? At least not one we'd do any time frequently. If you get another tattoo or what have you, it'd be super thought out and well in the future and way more about either of us being turned on, so... to some people it might be on this kind of list, but not on mine, I guess." He shrugged and chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, I can think of plenty of things I'd rather you worship rather than my boots." Smirking, he looked over the list again and put his hand over Blaine's to make it move with the pen. "Okay, we're getting rid of ​that​ right away," He murmured as he used Blaine's hand to put several x's next to the "brown showers."

Blaine thought it over, swallowing. "No, I think the worst lashes with the whip hurt more - although I'd be willing to try that again, too. It seems to depend a less on the implement than who's using it and how much they're trying to hurt you. And... there was another thing that hurt more, too, but we don't need to get into that." Better to keep things light and not get sidetracked again, he thought. As Sam guided his hand, he let out a laugh. "Yeah, that's... too much for me, too." His eyes fell on the next item on the list, being locked in cages. "Does that next one have any appeal for you at all?

Sam felt a churning in his stomach when Blaine mentioned there being something else, something that hurt more than the hardest whip lash, than a caning. It made him swallow thickly, wondering whether he should ask after it. How contradictory was it to tell the person you loved that you want them to be able to tell you anything, when secretly you weren't sure if you could handle it? No, no... Blaine had told him terrible things, and thought Sam had cried with him, he'd withstood it. After all, hearing about it couldn't be worse than experiencing it. "Uhm-" He looked down to see what he was looking at and then looked back up. "I dunno? I think a little? I'd be interested to know what I could do with it." He flushed as he had a mental image and cleared his throat.

Blaine watched Sam's face, knew he wanted to ask about the worst of what he'd been through - but was grateful that he didn't, that he let them move on. It wasn't anything that Sam hadn't been told, in a roundabout way, but they'd hardly spoken of it directly. It wasn't particularly to spare Sam's feelings; in fact, Blaine felt that maybe it was selfish of him, but given the nature of the - no, he wouldn't even let himself give that much thought to it. He just wanted control of how he dealt with this one thing. That was all. Focusing on the here and now, he found himself slowly grinning, pleased at Sam's response. "I wasn't really expecting that, but... I trust you and I'm on board. Check, then."

Sam smiled as Blaine grinned, smiled at the fact that Sam hadn't even had to be specific before Blaine to like the way his brain was going in. To be fair, Sam thought Blaine would like it, and that it would be torturous but good. "Good." He smiled and looked back at the list again, his smile immediately falling away "I dunno how that works, but I don't want it." He shuddered as he pointed out the castration fantasy, then squinted at the one below it. "Cathe-.. what's that one? What does that mean?"

Blaine nodded agreeably, crossing the next item off, but went redder than ever as Sam asked him to explain - for more reasons than one. "Um, I think it's... inserting a catheter? You know, like, medically... sticking a tube thing up your - into your - to drain, um, urine?" He sucked in a breath through his teeth. "So, about that... I'm not especially into, um, pee, although I guess I'm not saying no to... well, so maybe this specific thing isn't ideal necessarily, but it brings up other... I mean, I have no idea if I'd like having things inserted - there - or not, so it's definitely not something I'd need to do if you're not into it, but... I'm curious, you could say. Then, um - when it comes to medically-based stuff in general... I do have a bit of a... kink, I guess, there? I even used to look at a doctor/patient themed porn site, back years ago, so... I think it's more about the humiliation and power-imbalance than the specifics of what's being done, although of course, if it's painful or embarrassing or both..." During this entire speech, Blaine found himself speaking just a little too quickly, unable to make eye contact. With a nervous laugh, he finally chanced a look at Sam. "Um, sorry? Please don't think I'm too weird?"

Sam wasn't surprised that Blaine could tell him a lot about something, but he did look surprised to have found a new possible kink of Blaine's, but since that was sort of what this whole list doing activity was about, he supposed it was bound to happen that at some point he was surprised, like Blaine might be about something that cropped up for Sam. "Oh, wow- I mean, of course you're not weird. But, uhm, can we put a "maybe" beside that one? I'd need to think about it. I never thought of- sticking anything up there... I'd definitely need to look up how to do it safely. But I'll warn you I might say no if I can't get over the sympathy pain." He shivered delicately. Blaine may be interested in inserting something but Sam didn't think he would find it fun to happen to himself. But then, what a slave liked having done to him didn't often correspond with what a Master might like done to him.

Blaine 's mouth curved into a half-smile, grateful, but fittingly, only half-convinced. "Well, I think I'm a little weird," he admitted, straightening up instead of hunching over the notepad, leaning into Sam. "I mean, I'm not saying it's anything we need to try, if you're not interested. Let alone try to get over it. I've only ever had bad experiences with... pee. And I didn't even know until I saw it on the paper just now that people even did this as a - a sex thing, although I read about, um, sounding, in one of Mistress's books -" He let out a breath, realizing he probably needed to explain that too. It wasn't that he minded explaining; just that he was finding the whole topic difficult. "Which, y'know, is just inserting something there, without any of the rest of it." He shrugged. "I'm just - my first reaction was that this is - not quite something I want to do, but maybe something like that? I guess I'm not explaining it well, but anyway. It's not important."

Sam shook his head when Blaine said he thought he was a little weird. "The places we've lived the last 11 months? The people we've met? You're not weird for being interested in things. Now, if you had a kink about me making you write essays and you wanted a teddy bear with your name stitched on it, then we might have a problem," He joked quietly before going silent as Blaine went on, then explained, trying to catch on, but sometimes he could have difficulties even when Blaine wasn't hesitating and being as little descriptive as possible. "Mistress, that's another person. I bet she's totally into this kinda thing and that's okay. Uhm... so it's without the pee? That would be better, yeah, since I would't even know where to start if we were trying to- I dunno, get your pee out. I wonder why it's called sounding? I can't even imagine." He stopped his kind of rambling to frown and lift Blaine's head up. "If it's really not important, then okay, but please don't dismiss your interests? You matter. And this list is all about us finding new things to try, things we'd not thought of, even if it might be just one of us having not thought of. Should we keep going down the list?"

Blaine let out a tiny, involuntary half-snort once he realized which people Sam was referring to, people they hadn't seen since the island. No more than that, as he didn't like to be petty. "Yeah, like... they use a tiny rod. I think. I don't really know a lot about it either. When I first read about it, it just sounded weird and humiliating and possibly painful, but - like I've been saying, I kinda like it when things are humiliating and painful, so, um, yeah." He let Sam lift his head, and used the opportunity to give him a quick kiss. "It's not very important, just a 'maybe someday' thing, but I'll try to remember that. Thank you." He held Sam's gaze for a moment, adoringly, then glanced back down at the list - only to do a genuine double-take, his eyebrows shooting up. "Cattle prod?! Um.... no?"

Sam had no problems being petty, but then he wasn't as good a person as his boy. Listening, Sam tried to picture it, sticking a rod into someone's shaft. How much did it hurt? Because it hurt him trying to picture it too hard. "Yeah, I... still sometimes let myself get hung up on wanting to protect you from pain, sometimes I forget it's what you really want." Returning the kiss and smiling at him, he felt his own heart swell a little before he watched the reaction and raised an eyebrow. When his curiosity was satisfied, he shivered and grimaced. "Definitely not. If it's as bad or worse than a taser- definitely not." The memory gave him chils.

Blaine nodded. "It certainly seemed like it would be, sir" he said, his mind drifting back to the one time he'd seen one up close, and the way it had crackled in the hand of a cruel Mistress. It was a horrible memory for both of them, but Blaine was getting better at banishing those. He squeezed Sam's shoulder tightly, a gesture of reassurance for both of them without getting sidetracked. "That was the day I started falling in love with you, though." Smiling, he neatly filled the checkbox with x's. "I'm not ruling out all electricity, but never that, please. And, let's see, the next two things - or no, three - I'm not interested in, so if you're not, those are out, too: being locked inside of cells or closets, chains - I mean, I guess I could see a use, but rope is so much more fun - and, uh, chamber pot use?" His embarrassment was fading, and what little was left he was able to laugh off. "I mean, I ​would​ if you wanted me to, but."

Sam pursed his lips for a moment, knowing he would rashly declare to ​never​ use electricity if he spoke right then and he wasn't sure he wanted to, or if it was right to do while in the heat of hating those guards, that mistress, those two experiences. His eyes flicked over to Blaine when he pointed out it was the day he started falling in love. He gave him a soft, affectionate smile and stole another kiss from him before he looked down to go on with the list. Shaking his head as he mentally agreed with Blaine, he chuckled. "Uhm- I mean, not unless it was a choke chain-" He managed to turn slightly pink as he shrugged. "Otherwise, you're right, rope is better and easier for me to use." He smirked at the chamber pot use. "I reaaally don't understand that one, so no."

Blaine crossed things off as they went down the list, flushing a bit himself when Sam mentioned choke chains. "Oh, my god, yes," he said, emphatically, making a note. "I think we mentioned choke chains once before, didn't we? A long time ago, now. I guess sometimes we have a way of getting sidetracked from things we want to do... we still need to try superhero roleplay, too. Maybe I should put that on here somewhere." He frowned down at the page thoughtfully. "Chastity belts... well... maybe not belts, but you could definitely... um." He was a little tongue-tied, but he hoped Sam would get what he was driving at. "It's a little hot here, I should have gotten myself some water too. Um. Cock rings are also a yes from me."

Sam chuckled and looked over Blaine when he said that so emphatically, squeezing an arm around him. "We did, I think. But you're right, we have talked about it. And hey! Give us a little credit, we only just got together a little while ago, finally together and completely alone. I definitely don't blame us for taking the time to be on the honeymoon, part two." He grinned a little before he exhaled. "Yes, it is hot here... I'm feeling it. Why don't you have some of mine?" He leaned in to press a kiss to the side of Blaine's neck before he nodded against his skin with a pleased hum. "Yeah... I wanna do that... put loads of checks next to that one." He grinned and glanced down at the list. "Competition- with other subs. Hah! As if. You have no competition."

Blaine wrapped an arm around Sam back and let himself be cuddled, despite how warm he was feeling. Snuggling up to him was always worth it, in his eyes. Besides, it wasn't purely a matter of temperature, anyway, but of having his ass pressed against Sam's cock, feeling his erection shift and change as they discussed different kinks. As they released each other from the hug, he shifted so that he was no longer actually sitting on Sam's lap, but next to it, with his legs laying across Sam's. That, he figured, would help them get through this. "Aw, thank you, sir," he said, reaching for the water glass and taking a sip. "Well, I don't hate showing off, as I'm sure you've noticed, and I feel like that's bound to happen in an event someday... but yeah, no need for us to force it." He licked his lips as he set the glass down. "Corsets... it's not a turn on for me, but I wouldn't mind that at all. Cutting... that one's a yes, right?"

Sam exhaled as Blaine moved off, feeling relieved in a small way but also still kind of needy. He was grateful, at least, for Blaine's legs being easy access so he could pull one up to drape over his lap, a little shy about his somewhat noticeable erection, at least it was if you were looking at his lap. He cleared his throat and waited for Blaine to take a drink before he reached over and took it himself. "Yeah, we should just wait on that one, since it doesn't seem too unlikely it'll just happen naturally." He shrugged his shoulders and had a few sips of water. "What, you never wanted to be Frankenfurter? Or whatever his name was?" He grinned and rubbed Blaine's leg lazily. "I- yeah, that's one."

Blaine laughed fondly. "I'm a little surprised you know Rocky Horror... You'd actually make a good Rocky, since was designed to be the perfect man." He shifted his legs in Sam's lap, unable to resist the urge to tease him a little. He'd been half-hard himself at different times, his little shorts constraining him, but he was used to denying himself and hadn't thought much of it. "Good," he said, making the checkmark. "I want that, too, sir. It's a little scary - but that's part of it, and I know I can trust you to be careful with me." He cleared his throat and squirmed a little - but seeing the next items on the list helped take some of the sexual tension out of the air. "Can everything relating to diapers just be a no?"

Sam blushed as Blaine said that since he felt embarrassed now for what he said. "You mean I didn't tell you? I was actually gonna be Rocky in a school play. We even got to being full dress rehearsal stage before the principal realized what it was about and said we couldn't do things that raunchy for a high school play. It was a bit disappointing, but... I also didn't need anyone else seeing me in the gold shorts." He chuckled, ducking his head for a moment before he looked back at him. "It is a little scary... but I want to try. As long as I'm careful it should be okay." Biting his lower lip, he was mildly grateful for the mention of diapers. "Urgh, yes, put x's by anything diaper related, or chamber pot or toilet!

Blaine 's jaw dropped. "You ​so​ did not tell me that! Dude, that would have been awesome! But yeah, maaaaybe inappropriate for high school." He ducked his head, grinning. "If the student body got one look at you in those gold shorts, most of the girls and a few of the guys would have rioted. So it was probably before the best." Blaine reached out, cupping Sam's cheek briefly, before returning to the list. "Okay, so... dilation and dildos. Um... no objections here. I guess you just wouldn't want to take it to extremes?"

Sam 's eyes widened. "Really? Never? Oh, man, I could have sworn it would have come up at some time. ​Huh​. Well, now you know." He smirked, though turned back to embarrassment when Blaine said that about the riot, nudging him gently. "Shut up," He chuckled, turning his head to kiss his hand before peering over his shoulder. He pursed his lips for a moment. "This is beginning to feel like one of those personality quizzes where they're just asking you the same five questions, phrased differently! No, no taking it to extremes. Electricity, was a maybe, in small doses. Enem- well... I mean, how we choose to keep ourselves clean is up to us and if you ever asked me to help you with something like that, I would, but I don't see the need to turn it into anything. Not as a punishment, either, I don't think."

Blaine wrote 'in moderation' on the form. "Yeah, I think there are a couple of electricity-based toys on the list, too... things designed for safety and moderation and not, you know, herding animals. I'll go ahead and mark those as 'maybe in moderation,' too." He swallowed. "But... well, yeah, I do see enemas as more just a - necessary fact of life than anything else, but just FYI, having it done ​to​ me does turn me on. Because it's... intimate and embarrassing, I think." He fidgeted with his pen, not as embarrassed as he had been earlier, but still a bit shy about admitting to all this. "I really am just... up for most things. Um. Physical examinations is also a yes from me, obviously. I guess that would be more of a roleplay thing?"

Sam looked up at Blaine when he was speaking, feeling a little guilty that he didn't know half as much as Blaine seemed to. And he was supposed to be the one leading the way. What toys Blaine meant, he wasn't sure and made note to himself to ask about it later. For now, he was listening to Blaine speak about enemas and he smiled softly. "​Oh​. I don't know why I didn't think about that, since I'm not surprised, when you put it like that. Well- then we should try that sometime. And I can't say I wouldn't enjoy giving you a physical examination. Anything where you're naked and I'm touching you all over is good to me." He licked his lips, sliding his hand over Blaine's shin. "Now, bend over and cough," He joked, winking at him before peering over the list. "Eye contact restrictions..." He squinted at it, thinking it over, though while he did his eyes passed down to the next one and he pursed his lips, wondering if they should even talk about that again or if he should just quietly tell Blaine to put an x mark there, or do it himself. It made him ashamed to be turned on by it, a mark left by Master Chang.

Blaine , meanwhile, honestly hadn't considered eye contact restrictions, and so he was carefully thinking it over, not sure what to make of it. "I think the thing about that... it's not really sexy, to me, and it's definitely something I'd ever want to be a part of our day to day lives, but... maybe you might find a use for it? Maybe as part of a, you know, I don't like calling it a scene, but a session of total control, like we were talking about earlier. So I guess it's a maybe for me?" Only then did his eyes fall on 'face slapping.' Without anything being said, he quickly wrote 'maybe in the future,' next to it. He'd made no secret of how much he didn't like that, but knowing that his Master liked it... he wanted to work through that. Someday.

Sam took in what Blaine was saying, trying to fit it in his mind what he meant, then he started chuckling at a scenario in his head. "That would be a funny combination too... "Honey B, you may only go to the bathroom when I say. And it'll be even longer if I see you looking at me in the eyes." " He chuckled another moment before clearing his throat. He in no way wanted to be disrespectful or make a joke out of future sessions, or the people who enjoyed those things, so he sobered up, looking mildly guilty but amused. He looked down to see what and where Blaine was writing, his breath coming in slow but he decided not to comment on it, instead moving on. "Fantasy abandonment." He rose an eyebrow at Blaine. "Would you find it hot or thrilling to imagine me abandoning you?"

Blaine laughed too at the idea of that particular combination - or rather, that way of phrasing it, letting his head drop forward onto Sam's shoulder briefly and feeling a warm, chest-tightening flash of fondness for his goofy husband. "Well, I think you could combine the two, but more like... if we were having a whole intense sort of day, where I had a lot more rules than usual, where I spent most of my time either serving you somehow or on my knees waiting to be used again. That might be..." Unspeakably hot, he thought. "...fun." As Sam moved on down the list, he shook his head emphatically. "Not remotely, Master. None of these seem like fun fantasies, really. Even just... I could see us roleplaying situations that aren't strictly consensual, but - rape," the word sounded awkward in his mouth, "would be overstating it."

Sam looked at him, kind of staring when Blaine had made what he had been finding hard to take seriously suddenly quite serious, and seriously hot, while he was at it. He swallowed, the image flitting through his head. Briefly chewing his lip, he said, "The cage image I had in my head earlier- had something to do with you waiting again to be used, but- uh, I think if it was something you were having to force on yourself, that could be-" He squirmed where he sat, wondering if he was giving himself blue balls going through this list. "Yeah. ​Fun​." He leaned back into the couch and had another sip of his water before carefully resting the glass with its cool condensation on his cheek to help him cool off a little, tilting his head at him. "No, that... does seem like a way more- serious word than we'd ever want."

Blaine watched Sam cool himself down, breathing a little harder himself. "We've got to start getting through this list faster, huh?" With a breathy little chuckle, he quickly crossed the next few items off. "Okay, moving right along... Fear - I think we've both had enough of that for one lifetime, right? And, uh..." He quickly marked off fisting, knowing that Sam would probably never want to do that. "Flame play, does the fire cupping count? I'd be willing to do more with heat and fire, too. Foot worship -" His cheeks went pink again. He'd sort of already done that, just a little bit, as part of overall body worship, kissed Sam's feet and ran his tongue lovingly over one of the arches before mouthing his way back up his leg. "I so would," he admitted, quickly. They needed to keep moving along, after all. "So it's just a matter of if you want it. Forced bedwetting, please god no. Forced dressing and eating, I mean, you can if you want? But you're not really the micromanaging type. Forced homosexuality, not applicable. Forced heterosexuality, even more please god no. Forced servitude, welcome to my life, forced smoking - no, never, bad for the voice."

Sam grinned wryly at Blaine's comment about having to go faster and he nodded once before listening to Blaine rattle off, again faster than he could really keep up with, reading wise. He snorted here or there over Blaine's additional comments, but he shook his head. "I force you to dress sometimes? I mean, ask you do, but that's just kind of usual stuff. I wouldn't force you to eat unless you were like, sick and hadn't had any nourishment in hours and hours or something. Anyway. Hmm, uhm- maybe put a sweeping yes through the gags? I think it'd be interesting to try those. If you're not too put off, of course. Full hood- only a maybe, not sure how I feel about that. At least they're not saying gimp mask. Yet."

Blaine smiled back, slyly. "Oh, it'll be my pleasure to try every one of these," he said, checking off every gag and putting a double check beside phallic gags. He knew that would be hard to take for any longer period of time, but that only made him more eager to push himself to try. "Full hood... well, to me, the implications of that are much scarier than just being blindfolded, so I'm not sure. I guess just... not for too long, is all I'd ask." He paused, then smirked a little as he read the next one. "Gas masks... well, maybe on taco night. Gates of Hell... I'm not sure what that is? It wasn't in any of Mistress's books as far as I remember. Do you know? Given away to another dom - nope."

Sam 's eyebrows rose when Blaine double checked the phallic gag, making a note of that. "You know, if you want something in your-" He cleared his throat and shook at himself. Focus, focus. "Right, okay, not for long if at all. I'd be worried about how you could breathe, too, it'd make me anxious." Pinching Blaine's waist when he made that joke about the gas masks, he chuckled and then shook his head. "Nope, no clue at all, I was gonna ask you. Maybe I'll look it up later- uhhm, definitely no." His eyes scanned over the blank places between all the checks Blaine had done earlier to get some obvious ones out of the way. He hesitated at Golden Showers, only shrugging non-noncommittally. "There's not really any guns, but if I found a fake one that might be fun to play with."

Blaine yelped as Sam pinched him, laughing a little. "I don't think pinching is on here, sir, maybe we'd better add it." As he wrote down, 'maybe in the future - fake gun only,' he noticed that Sam had skipped one. "Are you... interested in that at all, sir? Golden showers?" As he waited for a reply, he went down the list marking off any redundancies he could find.

Sam was starting to mentally curse how long the alphabet when he realized G wasn't even in the double digits. How much long would this be? He was beginning to think they might need a break, because his cock was aching in his pants. But maybe they would need to break on a good note, not with Blaine asking him that question. He looked flustered. "I- I dunno? Harem, hah, do you think I could pull that off?" He looked amused, shaking his head.

Blaine hadn't seen Sam quite that flustered by anything yet. It was oddly adorable. "Hmm... well... I'm not saying no," he said, with a slight smile, as he put down, "maybe in the future." True, as he'd said, his only previous experience with that particular bodily fluid had been a bad one - but then again, it had come courtesy of the cattle-prod wielding Mistress, and he figured that trying it again, consensually, with someone he was very much attracted to, someone he loved more than he'd ever known possible, it might turn out very differently. "From my point of view, you wouldn't necessarily have to pull anything off, just... relax and enjoy..." Blaine let himself trail off. He liked the idea of sharing Sam, and at the same time, he didn't. "I mean... maybe we should put a question mark on that one, for now." He was starting to get a little tired, too... and then he had an idea. "... sir? Permission to spice this up a bit?"

Sam shook his head, not sure what he wanted to say so he said nothing at the moment, instead he focused on the harem part, swallowing and licking his lips. "I do like relaxing and enjoying." He cleared his throat and slowly nodded before tipping his head up and focusing on Blaine when he asked that. "Hmm?" Quirking a brow, he really didn't know what Blaine meant, and so he had no reason to want to say no. Not that Blaine often wanted to do things that he might say no to, but all the same. "Yeah, of course."

Blaine swung his legs off Sam's lap, and stood up, taking off his shirt. "So, high heels," he said, as he stripped, going slowly due to the papers still in one hand. "I would do it, but again, cross-dressing isn't really one of our things. Hot oils and hot waxing... that's a yes from me." He shimmied out of his tiny shorts, his cock springing free, almost fully erect already. "So is humiliation, in public and in private, but not so much verbal humiliation. I take things too personally, especially coming from you, sir." Kneeling between Sam's knees, he quickly unzipped him, freeing his cock, then ran his hand along the shaft a couple of times. "And I don't have any strong feelings either way about hyponotism," he said, then flicked his tongue against the underside of Sam's cock head. "Immobilization is such a general word, but I'm open to any form of it that I can think of." He blew on Sam's cock, drying the stripe he'd just licked, then flashed his Master a grin. "Now, if you don't mind, sir, tell me what you think for a minute while my mouth is full." No sooner had he finished the sentence than he'd swallowed Sam to the hilt, moaning in relief.

Sam sat up a little straighter when Blaine hopped off the couch and took his shirt off, his mouth going a bit dry as he watched him strip, almost not even sure what he was doing until he started spouting off opinions. Clearly, Blaine had a higher opinion of his restraint and focus than Sam did of himself, finding himself nodding slightly when Blaine said he took verbal things too personally from him. Letting out a whine when he felt his hand and then tongue on his cock, his hand flew up to fist some of Blaine's hair, his breathing coming in ragged before he tipped his head back as Blaine took him into his mouth. "Oh, ​shit!​" He shivered and gripped his hair. "N-no high heels. Y-yes on the h-hot things. Depends on the type of- of humiliation-" He gasped. " Could never talk b-badly about you-" He bit on his lip, unable to think about or care about hypnotism or immobilization at the moment.

Blaine 's lips curved up around Sam's cock, though his mouth was so full that it would have been hard to tell. He'd stumbled into a perfect game: Sam's pleasure gave him a sort of vicarious relief, yet he wasn't nearly as distracted as Sam was. He gave a soft, affectionate sounding moan. Of course Sam could never say anything mean to him; what had he been thinking? He let Sam have a few extra seconds, a couple of extra bobs of his head, then pulled off with a loud pop, sitting back on his heels and grabbing for the paper again. "Very good, sir, but the longer you talk, the more you get," he said, ticking off boxes with an smug, self-satisfied expression. "Initiation rites, interrogations, kidnapping - these all sound like roleplay scenarios to me. Yes, but nothing too close to home. Injections, I'd do, but I know you'e not comfortable with that, and you don't have to try. Lectures for misbehavior..." he glanced up briefly, "judging from the look on your face I have one coming any minute now. Let's see, lingerie - more cross-dressing. Manacles and irons, well, if the situation calls for it, but leather cuffs are sexier to me. It's ropes verses chains all over again. What do you think?" And with that he dove back in, his head bobbing eagerly on Sam's cock.

Sam shuddered under the attentions of Blaine's mouth, his lips parted while Blaine made that noise and bobbed his head a little longer before sitting back, so nonchalant, as far as Sam could tell. Or at least in comparison. He himself was flustered, his blood pounding through his veins, looking shocked when Blaine was giving rules about this business. "You make talking very difficult, I'll have you know." He swallowed thickly, managing to just laugh when Blaine said it looked like he was about to give him a lecture. That was very true. "Definitely put a check mark next to that." He playfully narrowed his eyes at him before panting. "Lingerie is- more interesting to me than heels or corsets or whatever else there was. But not necessary. And y-yes, leather cuffs are nicer than manacles, they just make me think of- of the island, if how my wrists felt raw from the stiff metal, so unforgiving."

Blaine gave him a full thirty seconds extra, since he'd went on for a while about his preferences, then pulled off, more reluctantly this time, and wiped his mouth. "Lingerie can be a check, then. I'd rather not do bras, but silky underwear, maybe?" He looked up at his Master from under thick, half-lowered eyelashes. "Or maybe transparent lace? Is that the sort of thing you'd like to see me in?" Clearing his throat, he stopped teasing and went back to the list. "Modeling for photos, sure, mouth bits - that's basically like a gag, so I'd say yes. Mummification... I mean, so long as you don't try to take my brain out through my nose or anything. Nipple piercings, not really my style... nipple weights, maybe. Pain... I'll take as much as you want to give. Phone sex with your friends, I'm guessing that's a no? Feel free to move your hips this time - fuck my mouth, please, sir..." Sam's cock was too inviting to stay away for long, and he took him in again with an eager whine.

Sam groaned, beginning to wonder if he wouldn't just cum while trying to tell Blaine his preferences. Would Blaine stop if he could tell his Master was going to cum? Shivering and panting quietly when Blaine pulled off again, he tried to focus on the list, but ended up having to hold it with one hand, Blaine curls with the other. "No, no bras. Not attractive without boobs. But- silky- and transparent lace-" He nodded his approval and groaned, his eyes shutting fast for a moment. "Yes, photos. In the lace. Not sure 'bout mummification. N-no phone sex without- me-" he gasped and gripped Blaine's hair to hold him still a moment while he thrust up into his waiting mouth. "Oh, fuuck."

Blaine didn't want to stop again, and with Sam's fingers threading through his hair, holding him in place, it would have been an uphill battle anyway. His eyes were welling up, and he had drool on his chin, but still he wanted more, wanted to make him cum. Breathing hard through his nose, he hollowed his cheeks as much as he could, sucking eagerly, groaning as his own neglected cock strained and rubbed against the edge of the couch. He squeezed Sam's thighs and made a pleading noise, trying to let him know that he wanted him to let himself go.

Sam was in the throes of it now, unable to think about much else but cumming. They'd made it down to- well, he didn't know what, sounded like P, that was more than half way now and he knew he couldn't last any longer, needing it too much. Grasping Blaine and holding him there, he tossed the list onto the cushion next to him and held Blaine's head with both hands as he swiftly pumped his hips up, shuddering and groaning aloud when he came down his throat and into his mouth, melting like butter against the couch after he finished, a soft whine coming from his lips as he released Blaine, his gaze mostly unfocused as he looked down at him.

Blaine shuddered along with Sam. For a moment the vicarious pleasure was so intense that he felt like he could nearly reach his own climax, but it passed, and he was left whimpering faintly, his senses heightened by the desire still pulsing through him. As Sam let go of his head and he pulled away, he gasped, choked a little, and wound up with cum running down his chin. Laughing weakly, he let his head rest against Sam's knee, gazing up into his eyes with a fond look. "Plastic surgery," he said, softly, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist. "I'm guessing that's an easy no?" His cock twitched, and he did his best to ignore it, his eyes locked on Sam's.

Sam exhaled shakily after Blaine drew off of him, having to shiver again just from the sight of some of his cum running down his chin, swallowing thickly. Reaching over, he stroked the back of his neck and chuckled. "Definite no. Only thing you're allowed to gain is muscles or some cushy pounds here and there, the rest of you has to stay perfect, the way it is. Now quick, come lie down on the couch before you lose too much heat." He licked his lips, fully intending to take Blaine into his mouth, less about returning the favor and more about how he wanted him moaning and squirming underneath him, and Sam was sure he'd be too distracted by Blaine's arousal to focus elsewhere.

Blaine scampered to obey, not quite catching on to Sam's intentions yet. "Well, I think you're perfect, too, sir," he said, patting Sam's knee as he stood up. He grabbed the paperwork and settled himself back on the couch, with his legs across Sam's lap again, ignoring his throbbing cock and focusing instead on the next couple of entries. "Pony slave - I think I'm more suited to being a puppy, but it's your call, sir. Cock whipping is a definite yes from me. I'm not sure what this next one is, though..."

Sam watched Blaine get on the couch again, his eyes locked on his erection even as Blaine was being a good boy and keeping to the list. He nodded his agreement with Blaine on both points before raised an eyebrow. "What does it say?" He asked curiously before he wrapped his hand around Blaine's cock and gave it a few pumps, then bent down over him to close his lips around the head of it, sucking more of him into his mouth with a quiet groan, feeling greedy.

Blaine 's brow furrowed, his eyes still on the page in front of him. "Riding the horse, and then there's a dash, crotch tort. I guess short for torture? I can kinda picture that, maybe. Like a wooden horse? I don't like the word 'torture,' but I do like most kinds of paaaah..." The sudden movements of Sam's hand quickly reduced him to wordless noises, and as he watched those perfect lips close around his long-neglected cock, all he could do was gasp, his hips stuttering forward in quickly aborted movements. "Oh god, thank you sir," he breathed, letting his legs fall open a bit more and reaching out to brush Sam's cheek.

Sam didn't pull off right away after Blaine spoke, since he was too eager to taste him, to please him. To Sam, it wasn't even entirely selfless, like returning a favor, more something he wanted for himself, to be able to hear and feel him falling apart with Sam's attentions. One of his favorite things about sex was to see Blaine's reactions and feel it when he came. He couldn't quite picture what Blaine was trying to describe, nor could he focus enough to care at the moment, especially not with Blaine gasping, making him want to smile if he wasn't so distracted. His hand moved down, giving Blaine's balls a careful squeeze and tug after all they'd been talking about.

Blaine let out a low moan as Sam lightly tugged at his balls, trying to keep his hips still, to prevent himself either from instinctively squirming away from the pressure, or from thrusting up past that perfect mouth. His instinctive response was to tilt his head back, flopping back into the couch, but at the couldn't bring himself to do anything that would cause him to lose his view of Sam's lips wrapped around his cock, or force his hands away from stroking his face and hair. "You look so gorgeous, doing that," he gasped, after a few minutes. He started to find it hard not to squeeze, and rather than risk being rough with his Master, he tore one hand away and fisted the fabric of the couch cushion behind him. "Please..."

Sam had almost forgotten what they were interrupting to do this, since nothing else was on his mind but what he was doing, to pay attention to how much pressure he was using on Blaine's sensitive balls or to keep his head bobbing steadily, quicker. The sounds he was pulling out of his boy were heavenly to him and he hummed around him. When he heard the plea, he realized Blaine would probably be wanting permission, so he lifted his head off of him briefly, replacing his mouth with his other hand to look up at him. "You can cum. Whenever." He chuckled before moving his hand aside and leaning back in. He splayed his hand over Blaine's stomach and dragged it up his body as he hallowed his cheeks around him.

Blaine trembled under Sam's hand, which trailed heavily along his body as if rising up to claim it. He was still half-sitting up, his muscles straining to hold the position, but he didn't want to lose his view of Sam for even a second. His breathing was hard and fast, and his other hand finally lost its careful control, lightly tugging at his blond hair. "Going to," he responded, since warning him seemed only polite. "Master..." He only had time to get out one word before he came, hard but silently, and then slumped back onto the couch, finally letting himself lay down fully. He lost his grip on Sam as he did, but took his hand instead, letting them rest together on his chest.

Sam probably had a different idea of how tight of hair gripping was tight compared to Blaine, since he didn't think much of it except that it felt good. He groaned happily to taste his boy had cum in his mouth, swallowing it down and cleaning him off with careful licks while Blaine dropped down and moved his hand to hold Sam's instead on his chest. He exhaled as he drew back, his eyes hooded as he looked up at him and then smiled. Lifting up off him, he wiped his chin with the back of his arm and crawled up to hover over Blaine, brushing his nose against his. "My beautiful Honey B."

Blaine made a soft murmuring noise in response, returning the nuzzle as best he could in his dazed state. His eyes had fluttered closed, but they reopened to see Sam hovering over him. "You're the beautiful one, sir." His free hand came around to rest on the small of his back, as he titled his head to give him a little kiss - which he then deepened after tasting himself on Sam's lips. When they broke apart again, Blaine's brow furrowed, suddenly remembering. "Oh... but we still had like forty things to go?"

Sam didn't know if there was much better than a sated and naked Blaine under his body, maybe it would only be improved with having his wrists tied up and cum dripping from his ass, but... at the moment Sam was enjoying the touch. He exhaled and leaned in closer to kiss him back so Blaine wouldn't have to move too much to do it, shivering as he felt it deepened and his lips parted, then slowly broke away after a few long moments. Opening his eyes, he looked down, blinking before chuckling quietly. "Huh. Yes. I think I meant to say that I'm not sure I like the word torture either, especially not where your crotch is concerned."

Blaine laughed at that, letting his hand slide up Sam's back to cradle the back of his head, pulling him in close. "Well, I like it when you hurt me, you know that. I even like it when it hurts a lot. But the word torture just implies something different, to me. It doesn't sound anything like what we do." With one hand, he reached feebly for the papers on the floor, not really moving enough to grab them, as he was so comfortable where he was. "The actual thing they're trying to describe might be okay, though."

Sam saw Blaine trying to grope for the pages and leaned down, his chest against Blaine's for a moment as he reached down to pick up the papers and brought them back up, carefully sitting back and tucking himself back into his pants with one hand. "You- on some kind of wooden horse thing that is hurting your crotch? I think I may need to look for images of this, because I'm having a hard time picturing how it works and- I dunno. If you do anything, if I do anything, what goes on." He licked his lips and leaned into the couch with a sigh.

Blaine shrugged sheepishly against the couch cushions. "I don't really know either," he admitted. "I guess it's a 'maybe in the future, need more information' sort of thing." As Sam sat up, he pulled himself up too and settled in at his side, with his head resting on Sam's shoulder so he could read, too. He didn't bother dressing again; he was warm enough cuddling with Sam, and he was already resigned to cleaning the couch. "Where were we... religious scenes, that's a no from me, saran wrap is a sure, I guess? Scarification - I'd be cool with it if you wanted to do more. Sensory deprivation is a yes, within reason. Where did I put the pen?" His head swiveled around a few times before he spotted it and retrieved it from between the cushions.

Sam nodded in agreement to Blaine's word. Even if as a Master it might cause him some mild embarrassment, Blaine was just better at saying things, phrasing them, at getting to the idea that Sam would sometimes struggle to jump to before Blaine managed to, but honestly it just made him grateful that he felt in tune with him enough that Blaine could phrase his thoughts for him. "Yes, maybe in the future." He wound an arm around Blaine, making no move to mark these things down as Blaine was reading them out, chuckling to his words. "You don't want me dressed like a priest and me telling you to get down on your knees and pray?" He joked before raking his hand through Blaine's mussed curls, letting him look for his pen. "Scarification can have a "maybe in the future" next to it."

Blaine chuckled, shaking his head, but not so much as to disturb Sam's hand in his hair. He was still basking in the afterglow and in Sam's attention, in general. He knew it was a joke, but somehow a part of him wanted to explain his thinking anyway. "No, I - I may not be religious, but I do take that stuff seriously." He scanned the page, making notes with the pen as he made his way down. "Serving as art, yes, as an ashtray, probably not, as furniture, yes, as a maid... well, only in as much as I already do. Serving as a waiter, yes, serving other doms, supervised, yes, unsupervised, no... is that where you are on those, too?"

Sam went "Ahh," quietly. Honestly, he ought to. He was raised a good Christian boy, even if that faith had been shaken in years of late, and never having to think too hard about whether he thought strippers were bad people or homosexuals were bad, things like that. "Definitely not that, then," He agreed and listened to him going on, chuckling. "Oh, but where will I flick the ash of all those cigarettes I smoke?" He chuckled, pulling on of Blaine's curls loosely before he nodded. "Yeah, completely agree on all fronts. Uhh- sexual deprivation, short term, yes, long term, depends, shaving head hair- definitely never making you get rid of this glorious hair, or getting rid of mine."

Blaine hummed happily as Sam lightly tugged on his hair. He'd had a friend a long time ago who used to tease him about liking it when Sam pulled his hair. She'd never know just how right she was. "Depends on what? How long? Because I've heard people sometimes hold off for weeks and weeks, and like..." He turned slightly, giving Sam a very earnest, if melodramatic, wide-eyed stare. "I just couldn't. I think I'd ​die.​ And thank you for never shaving my head, that one wouldn't be lethal or anything, but I'd totally cry." He cleared his throat. "Sleep deprivation isn't sexy to me, but I guess it's not a hard limit. Sleep sacks... sure, I guess. Spandex clothing, sure, speech restrictions... maybe as part of those periods of intense control that we were talking about? Spec-" Blaine didn't even finish the word, turning pink again instead. He'd thought he'd gotten over all his embarrassment from earlier, but apparently he still had untapped wells of self-consciousness. "I, uh, maybe. Would you be comfortable with that?"

Sam shrugged and nodded "Yeah, on how long. To me, short term is more like, matters of hours, longer might be just a day or two-" Sam made a face at the idea of weeks, shaking his head. "No, I like mutual orgasms too much for that. I like the way you look, the way you feel when you're cumming too much. It adds joy to my sex life, I'd be depriving myself, in a way." He bit his lower lip momentarily before chuckling at Blaine's melodrama. "I won't ever do anything to make you die. Or cry about hair loss. It's too precious to me." Smiling, he leaned in and kissed the top of Blaine's head, nudging his nose against his scalp before looking down. "Sleep deprivation is a no, I need my sweet -" He stopped himself from saying "teddy bear" when the image of the stuffed animal with his name stitched on it passed his mind and he scrunched up his face before smiling slightly. "What are sleep sacks? Spandex is necessary for superheroes, ​obviously​, I agree with speech restrictions." He saw Blaine turn pink and looked more carefully at the word, feeling initial fear at the word since he was sure something like that had been used on him. "That's- part of the medical stuff, yeah?"

Blaine responded to Sam's sweetness by pressing kisses into his shoulder and neck, positively glowing. "Your teddy bear?" he said, softly, not looking him head on enough to realize that he'd stopped the sentence for a reason. But Sam had called him that before... "I haven't heard you sing that in a long time," he mused, referring to the Elvis song. "Right, so... it's a bondage thing, I assume? I haven't actually seen one in person, and I don't know if it would actually be a turn-on for either if us to have me fully restrained all night, but I've got no reason to say no. Might be worth a shot, although if my arms are secured in it, I might be a bit less cuddly, so it might not be worth it." He rubbed the back of his head, a bit awkwardly. "I- yeah, it's the..." Lost for words, he mimicked the opening duckbill motion with his hands, then hastily added, "I don't think it has to be an extreme thing at all, but if it's weird for you, maybe we'd better not try it."

Sam gave Blaine a soft smile for completing his sentence. It sounded better coming from him, maybe because he didn't sound judgmental when Sam had worried he might be. "No, I haven't sang it in a while, but I do love it. I should teach it to you so you can sing it to me," He chuckled quietly and then looked at him as he listened, furrowing his brow. He remember being bound and trying to sleep like that, but whether it was the bondage of the vibrating plug he was forced to wear, it was one of the longest, most uncomfortable nights he had had. "Yeaah, I dunno about that. Maybe as a punishment? It's a bit less mean than me saying you can't sleep with me." He shrugged his shoulders and then watched Blaine struggle with his awkwardness, swallowing and nodding. "We'll put it on the maybe pile, then. You have more interest in the medical stuff than I knew, so I'm not gonna say no to it without thinking about it."

Blaine nodded, but he was pretty sure that actually, he did know most of the lyrics. He made a mental note to surprise Sam with a serenade. "Well, I - I don't really think it would have to be a punishment - I mean, obviously I do love being able to cuddle with you, but being in bondage isn't just a turn on for me, it also... if I'm in a safe place, with someone I trust, it makes me feel really secure and peaceful. That's one reason I'm looking forward to getting my new collar so much; it's like a smaller version of that. So as long as I had you near, it... wouldn't really be a punishment." Smiling, he gave an exaggerated shrug. "Sorry. Um... spitting, maybe, spreader bars, yes, stocks, also yes, straitjackets... maybe? I don't know. "

Sam smiled when Blaine just nodded assuming it meant he was amendable to the idea. He went quiet, realizing that he had been more thinking of it like a punishment for himself, but as long as he was able to touch Blaine to his heart's content, maybe the rest wouldn't matter. Nodding instead, he gave him a soft smile. "I'm really glad we found you a nice collar. To have you be wearing one of mine, not something the Mistress picked- well... I'll be really happy." He exhaled and looked back down at the list. "Where would you see straitjackets fitting in? Similar to the sleep sack type thing? "

Blaine frowned thoughtfully, starting off into space for a second. "You know, I guess I don't really see it fitting in. The implication is a little dark. It's more like... if you find a use for it, I'm okay with it, but I guess it's probably not our style... oh, suspension bondage." He gave a tiny smile. "Yes, please. Inversion is okay, too; I know I can trust you to put reasonable limits on it and keep me safe. Let's see..." His eyes scanned over a list of obvious 'no' answers, until he got to one he just had to read out loud. "Tampon... training... in ass. Well, I thought nothing could shock me anymore, but it looks like I was wrong."

Sam had to take a moment to realize what inversion meant, then saw it next to Suspension and realized, blushing and deciding not even to share that moment of stupidity. "We'll try upright suspension and try that a while before trying flipping you upside down." He nodded and looked over the list again, some things Blaine was just writing off or already had of obvious things. His eyes widened when Blaine read that one out, blinking a few times. "Uhm... ​why​? No, I think we can stick with plugs or things like that."

Blaine snickered a little, wrapping his free arm around Sam's shoulders. "That's what I'm wondering, too - why. Why would anyone - well, no, I'm curious about some pretty kinky stuff, myself, so I guess I shouldn't laugh at any one else's, um, interests." Seeing how close they were to the end of the list, he started checking things off quickly. "Thumb cuffs - having a hard time picturing what that is, so it's a maybe, I guess? Tickling, yes, triple penetration," he ducked his head, "maybe... oh look, they did have sounding on here as a separate thing, so I should have just waited. Vibrator on genitals... yes. Voyuerism... watching other people, maybe, watching you with other people, no. Watching videos of others, sure, making videos of us... yeah. Yeah, that could be fun. And water torture... probably no, right?" He let out a sigh of relief. "And that's everything. Everything I was ashamed to admit to being interested in, and everything we hadn't even thought of yet."

Sam shrugged his shoulders and looked up at Blaine, smiling softly, though he knew he was guilty, just earlier, of criticizing other people's "interests" rather unkindly. He squinted at the list, then looked at Blaine when he said maybe to triple penetration. "I think I'd have to make friends before that could ever happen." Wetting his lips, he relaxed into the couch, watching his slave rather than looking at the list at this point, curious about his answers to things but silent to the end while Blaine rushed through the rest. "Yeah, probably no water torture. That was kind of a long list!"

Blaine waved away Sam's objection at first, still checking over the list to make sure he hadn't missed anything. "Could use toys..." But then he looked up, looking him in the eye with a half smile. "But I mean, of course, you'll make friends, sir. I imagine people must love you already." He flopped over into Sam's lap dramatically, letting the notebook and papers drop to the floor. "Oh my god, so long. I was so desperate at first, especially after we picked out my collar, and then after we came it was just like, okay, let's get this done with, and now I'm exhausted... but I'm glad we did it, I think." Looking up at Sam, he hesitated for a minute, wondering if it had been a bit of an annoying request. "Thank you for going through all that with me. You're the sweetest."

Sam stroked his hand down the nape of Blaine's neck and onto his neck where it met his shoulder. "No one loves me." He quirked a brow before hastening to add, "Except you, of course. Which is all that matters. Why would I need love from anybody else?" Letting out a puff of breath, he began to smile down at him when he started explaining what he had been experiencing in this last hour or- however long this had taken. "You're saying that like it was a chore for me," He playfully scolded him. "It was an important thing for us to do, as a Master and his boy. We both wanted to go through and talk about what all we wanted to do and learn more terms, and I definitely learned a lot. But you don't have to thank me, honestly."

Blaine reached up, idly stroking the stubble on Sam's chin. While a part of him liked knowing that he had no competition as Sam's best friend, he didn't like to think of his husband not having people he could talk to on the job, not being appreciated among his peers. But he said nothing, for now. Sam had only been a Keeper for a few weeks, after all. "Oh, I don't have to thank you for a lot of things, but I'm grateful, all the same. That you chose me. That you're collaring me. That you're such a wonderful, talented, funny, good person." He pressed his lips together. "A part of me still can't believe I'm home to stay. Not because I'm - traumatized, or anything, I just feel so, so lucky, that I get to spend the rest of my life loving you."

Sam furrowed his brow slightly. "Chose you?" He asked quietly, a little shocked by that phrasing, since the romantic in him was automatically saying there was no choice, never a choice, that Blaine had come in and swept everything else away. Which wasn't altogether untrue, in all honesty, but the longer Sam thought about it, there were people he definitely rejected in favor of Blaine, so perhaps that was like choosing him, in a way. "Huh... well... you're the best ever, I was only being smart." Smiling at him, he swallowed at the compliments and felt a little choked up by Blaine's next words, drawing him up from his lap so he could hug him into his chest. "You are home... as much home as we can have now. I want you with me forever."