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What do you do in your spare time, like hobby wise?
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In a house near Nacrene City // co-written with @aerial-aceing-it!
To Marvin, the walk from Castelia to Nacrene felt infinitely longer than normal. Maybe it was the weariness in his legs- Ok, it was absolutely that. He may have lied a little bit about how he was feeling in order to keep from rescheduling the whole affair.
Whatever he was feeling now would be nothing compared to the hell that is scheduling.
He finally knocked on the Ellisâs door just a bit past noon. He hoped whoever answered, Caleb most likely, would let him in quick so he could sit his ass down. His crutches were pretty much the only thing keeping him from faceplanting onto the welcome mat.
Maybe he was being a little overzealous on that line of thought. Heâd hit the door on the way down first.
It wasnât too long before, mercifully, noise came from behind the door, and it twisted open. Behind it, stood a weathered-looking Caleb. Their eyes gained a bit more life when they saw him, and they stepped aside, gesturing.
âHi, s-sorry, come in.â
Oh thank fuck.
Marvin quickly entered with a, âHey, no problem at all.â He did his best to make it look like he wasnât putting nearly his whole weight on his crutches and gave Caleb a polite smile. âLong time no see!â The âYou look like shitâ that nearly followed remained unsaid.
It was returned with a tip of their head, and an attempt at a smile. âIt itâs definitely been a a while.â
It was unlikely to be the most convincing, but they still tried. Their mind was too heavy to properly follow manners, There was too much to say.
Instead, they just led the way into the house, pulling out two of the chairs of the dining table, gesturing for him to sit down.
The offer was taken with haste. Marvin couldnât help but sigh in relief, which he was quickly embarrassed by.
âAh, sorry, I, uh, spent- I was in Sinnoh, right? You knew that. Spent a lot of it hiking a mountain with my roommate, Dylan. We got back a little over a week ago and Iâm still sore as shit.â
Caleb scooted their own chair closer to the table, resting their elbows on the wood in attempt to stop the shaking in their hands from being too noticeable. Though, his words made them stall.
âI I knew that, I have no no idea why, but itâs not my b-business. I get it, though, I I understand.â They wringed their hands together, unsure of what to do with them.
Marvin shook his head, âItâs a long story. Letâs just say it was the worldâs shittiest vacation and leave it at that.â Which was the understatement of the fucking century, but who gave a shit. Certainly not Marvin. Maybe.
That was definitely familiar. They nodded, with a bit of an uneasy laugh, âI know th-that feeling.â
He certainly looked the part, with how clearly exhausted he was, though they werenât much better. It would be believable to say they had aged several years over the past few months, and from the glimpses in the mirror of the dark circles under their eyes, it was obvious.
At least it was under control now. Though, now they had to give an explanation.
A second passed before Marvin set his hands down on his thighs, âAlright, well, I guess this is the part where you tell me what youâve all been up to?â
He looked at Caleb expectantly, an eyebrow raised. Heâd been itching for someone to tell him what the hell had been going on, and with the bare minimum of small talk out of the way, heâd really like to get a move on.
They stalled, and looked away. With a nervous laugh, they rubbed the back of their neck. âI I guess so.â
With a deep breath, they took a moment, getting the timeline straight in their head. âItâs a a bit of a long story.â
For the first time, they fully laid it out.
From Sashaâs random lead in November, tracking down suspects and putting a name to the crime in December, to all the breaking and entering, the meeting with Grimshaw, everything.
Their voice shook when they got to Driftveil, and leaving their daughter out of it, when Cory had somehow tracked them down, and Sashaâs spiral. They almost didnât want to speak about the notebook and the letter, the conspiracy, but regardless, it was included.
Though, they left out the details about the personal connection. That was not their place to speak.
And then how it ended.
By the end of the story, Marvin had leaned as far back in his chair as he could go.
Marvin was staggered, astonished, dismayed, baffled, stupefied, disturbed and quite frankly flabbergasted at what heâd been told. He smeared a hand across his face, pinching the bridge of his nose before pushing down and off his cheekbones. His expression was that of a man grappling with whether or not he spent the past few months, and if he might possibly the next few minutes, being a massive fucking hypocrite.
As self centered as it was, he kept thinking to himself, âWould I have done the same?â
Gone on this wild goose chase, this tirade through Unova. This quest for revenge, for⊠Something. Huh. Caleb didnât really specify what, aside from the fact the dead man was a murderer.
Something in him told him to press Caleb, that there was something they werenât telling him. That there was something that didnât quite add up, that a piece of the puzzle was missing.
He told that part of him to shut up. Frankly, heâd heard enough. He was tired. Not just from bodily weariness, but from the buzz of anxiety surrounding these people that had been persistent for the past few months.
Maybe this wasnât over, that there was more to this.
But maybe his part in this as the skeptic, the critic, the angry little bastard in the corner was through.
Marvin let out a long sigh, âWellâŠ. Shit.â
Tangling a hand in their hand, Caleb gave a tired expression, with some attempt at a smile. âL-like I said, long long story.â
It had certainly been a chaotic few months. Though, even that would be putting it lightly, compared to the emotional turmoil that they had been through.
âNo shit,â Marvin scootched himself back up in his chair, âSo⊠What now?â
If only they knew the answer to that. Instead, they shrugged. âMostly, Iâve be-been busy trying to k-keep her alive, so.. I, I donât know. Not not yet, anyway.â
They smiled, but it held mostly unease and a bit of bitterness.
Out of all of them, she had handled it the worst. Of course she had, with how much their cousin had invested into this. It still made them shudder, remembering when they had found her outside, barely conscious. She needed to take better care of herself, but that was an old tune she hadnât listened to in many years.
â⊠That bad, huh?â He pretended to not notice how none of this added up.
Briefly, they fumbled. They shouldnât have mentioned that.
They shook their hands in front of them, âEr- well, n-not like like that, but, sheâs- reckless. And it- it hit her.. Hard. I-I think you know Sash isnât the the most- responsible, so, thatâs been m-my job.â
Nervousness buzzed under their skin, and attempted to cover for what they had said. She wasnât suicidal, that was the one thing she wasnât. It wasnât much better, but it would be wrong to give that impression.
Marvin considered what they said, weighed it in his mind, and came to the conclusion that shit was kind of fucked in the Ellis household.
He nodded sympathetically.
âRight, right, no, I.. get that. Just- Watch out for yourself too and all that. Donât-â He shook his head, âTake time for yourself is what Iâm trying to say. Taking care of her is kind of you, but who's taking care of you?â
For a second, they couldnât think of words to respond. In the end, it landed on waving it off. âI- Iâm alright, I kn know how to to take care of of myself. I promise. Itâs- itâs just what I I do, to be there f-for Sash, and take care of of Mincy. Iâm okay.â
Marvin knew instinctively that they were not ok.
He also knew that this was not the time nor the place to even begin to unpack all of that.
âIf you say so.â Marvin shrugged.
Caleb put on a smile, folding their hands under their arms to stop them shaking. They were very grateful he had dropped it. Because, in full honesty, they didnât know.
For a beat, it was silent, before, across the room, a door opened from the hallway.
Cory shouldnât have been listening, they knew that, but- it was Marvin and Cal was saying stuff even they hadnât heard yet, but- it looked like they were done now?
It wasnât clear.
They poked their head out of the door, and looked at the two at the table.
As if by some miracle, they managed to catch Marvinâs eyes. He immediately broke out into a grin. âCory!!â Marvin attempted to stand on reflex, but he caught himself and sat back down before he accidentally got up close and personal with the floor.
They jumped when he nearly fell, almost shouting, eyes going wide. âMarvin! Are- are you okay? Uh- nevermind, hi!â
Tentatively, they stepped out of their room, and over to the dining table, fidgeting with their hands. âHi.â
âHey, howâs it going? Itâs great to see you face to face again! Itâs been a while!â
They smiled, giving a small wave to him and Caleb. âIt- itâs fine! Been uh, okay, ish. Itâs nice to see you too!â
Leaning against the back of the couch, they tried to atleast posture straight, so they looked a bit better than they felt.
Marvin quickly realized that it was up to him to continue the conversation. Fuck.
In a matter of milliseconds he began and finished panicking, rejected about fifty different possible topics, and settled on one that had the least likelihood of backfiring.
âSo, not to cut to the chase or anything, butâŠâ Marvin leaned forward, âI heard you made a friend recently?â
Coryâs face lit up immediately, and they saw Cal smile. âOh- yeah!! Itâs uh-â
In whatever weird position was necessary, they reached back into their sweater hood and pulled out the one-eyed sewaddle whoâd been curled up in there, presenting it forward like a trophy. (It was tired, sorry little guy, it would be fine.)
âThis! Is Thimble! I uh- Iâve had it for a few months now!â The grin on their face was enthusiastic, and was actually genuine.
Thimble looked around, and squeaked.
And for a single moment, everything was completely right in the world.
The noise Marvin made was not human in the slightest, but he was too distracted by Thimble to give even the most remote of shits.
âOh my god I love it,â Marvin squealed, immediately flapping his hands as his joy could not be contained.
âThimble.. THIMBLE!!â He slapped a hand over his chest, âOh, my heart, what a wonderful little bug! Iâm so happy for you two!â
Cory giggled, pulling their arms in to cradle Thimble like a baby. They bounced on their feet, way too happy.
âThanks!! Itâs uh, been a learning curve, uh, taking care of a pokemon, but,â they looked down at the sewaddleâs cute little face, âI uh, I think weâve been doing okay!â
It nuzzled its face against their shirt (which was the cutest thing in the world, objectively), and they were giggling all over again.
Oh now wasnât that just the sweetest thing. It was so nice to see Cory with a genuine smile on their face. They deserved all of that joy and so much more.
âWell, considering the fact that it looks both happy and healthy, I think you are doing a wonderful job!â
They were basically beaming, (smiling like a dorky idiot, but who cares), âIâve- Iâve been trying my best! I donât think itâs, maybe as easy as, like, a lillipup or something, for a starter, but I wouldnât change it!â
With a chirp, Thimble turned around in their hands to look at Marvin, tipping its little head and wiggling its little feelers. (Which was always super cute.) (It still looked banged up, with the missing eye and the scratches, but all the bandages had come off awhile ago- finally.)
âI think Thimble agrees!â Marvin laughed.
They giggled, âUh, I guess so!â
After a moment, they paused. âUhm- Sorry for uh- .. not uh, keeping in touch, for awhile.â Donât sound so nervous. âI- It wasnât really, my choice, but I tried!â
Marvin waves his hand in a calming gesture, âHey, I get it. Iâm just glad youâre alright, yâknow?â
Nodding, they gave a nervous smile. âYeah, yeah, uh- itâs- it was all fixed, so, yâknow, just..â their voice got quieter as they mumbled, âyâknow, when- Sasha broke my phone, but whatever.â
Keep the bitterness out of your voice. Heâll know. Cory dropped their eyes to the floor, holding Thimble closer. (Were they alright? Well, no, but, atleast it was better than it had been.)
(They saw Caleb avert their eyes, because yeah. Theyâd been there too.)
Marvin paused. His left eye twitched. âRight,â Cool your jets, man, âRight, that did happen. Right. Well, at least it's fixed now!â
Caleb spoke up, gesturing nervously, âYes, uh, it- took a while, but-but it was taken care of.â And their voice dropped too, âShe- Sash h-hadnât meant to, mostly, it wasnât.. It it just happened.â
(Cory was absolutely certain that was a lie, but duh Cal would be biased, they were related.)
Marvin nodded slowly. He tried his best to convey in the subtlest way possible that he held the opinion that she totally did it on purpose and that was complete horseshit. Rapidashshit? Ponytashit. Mudsdaleshit. Whatever.
âIt just happened,â He repeated, âI guess it did. Happen.â
Marvin quickly glanced at Cal from the corner of his eyes. They didnât suspect a thing.
It was kinda obvious they saw his glance and looked away, whatever emotion it was Cory couldnât tell. (Maybe a part of Cal knew, but theyâd seen how they talked to Sasha, they could never see her that way.)
You should say something.
âShe- uh, she knocked it out of my hands and uh, it- got stepped on when she ran away.â Cory looked between the two of them. âUh- the uh- screen got completely shattered, which was uh, kinda hard to get replaced.â
Marvin winced, âShit. Yeah, you canât type on something like that. Great way to get a really shitty kind of splinter.â
They nodded. âYep, so uh- yeah, thatâs, thatâs why I kinda disappeared off the radar. I uh, have nothing else besides my phone, so.â Cory shrugged.
Everyone had been too busy, and it had taken ages. Caleb was watching Sasha so she didnât drink herself to death, Ayzee and Jacob had to run the shop alone, Clara was in Nimbasa, cuz there was. No other option. Apparently.
(All because Sasha screamed at them in an alley and broke the only thing they had to communicate.)
A beat of silence passed. Marvin squirmed in his seat. Wow. Heâd seen the video, sure, but hearing Cory actually talk about it⊠Damn.
Something clawed at the inside of his ribcage. Some emotion he couldnât place. He sighed, hoping it would alleviate some of the discomfort. It did not.
âWellâŠâ Marvin started, âI⊠Should probably get out of yâalls hair.â
With crutches this time, Marvin stood. Ow. Fuck. Ow again.
Well, time to pretend like he didnât feel pain.
He turned to Cal and smiled at them, âThanks for sitting down for a chat. I appreciate it, really.â
He paused for a moment before he added, âI hope yâall feel better soon. Remember to take care of yourself, yeah?â
They glanced him up and down, and nodded, wringing their hands together again, as they always did. âIt was.. It it felt needed. I, I hope you have good- good things, Marvin.â
âRight back at âcha.â
Marvin turned to Cory, âSorry to split so soon, but my legs are killing me and Iâd rather not end up on the carpet.â
His expression softened, âIt was good to see you, Cory. Thank you for introducing me to Thimble! It was an absolute honor.â
There was not a hint of irony in his voice.
Yikes. Yeah, they nodded, âI- Yeah uh, I get it, no, donât- donât worry.â They laughed a bit, âTruth holds Iâve been there before, uh- thanks! It was. Yeah it was good to see you, I think Thimble likes you.â
Cory gave a soft smile, though of course their expression was kinda pinched from the rest of Everything.
Marvin let out an almost theatrical sigh and wiped his hand across his forehead, âThank god. Iâd be crushed otherwise. I think Iâd have to go into hiding.â
Okay that made them giggle.
After a moment, kinda awkwardly, they held out an arm and hugged him with the one that wasnât holding Thimble.
Dontcrydontcrydontcrydontcrydontcrydontcrydontcry.
Marvin hugged them back, copying their one-armed method so he didnât topple the three of them over.
Pain be damned, it was all worth it just for that.
After a second they pulled away, and gave him a small smile. âUh- see you soon? Hopefully?â
âAbsolutely! Give me a shout whenever you want to hang out. You know where to find me!â He literally stood in the same place every day he was in Pinwheel Forest. He was not a hard man to find.
Cory nodded, and let him go.
With one last wave, Marvin turned and headed to the front door. All things considered, that went pretty well. Better than expected, actually. He finally got context for the past few months AND he got to see a cute bug! Huge win.
It seemed that way, perhaps, until he got outside, and saw who was sitting on the front step.
There, back facing him, staring off into the woods around her home, was Sasha.
Fuck.
Of course this would happen. Heâd had it too easy. Nothing could ever be easy. There was, like, a military-grade restriction against letting things be easy for him. Goddamnit. Well, there was only one way forward, and that was through.
Marvin shook his head, sighed, and promptly cleared his throat.
Quickly, she lifted her head, and glanced back at him. There had been a suspense in her mind, and it was finally broken.
After a moment, she spoke, voice more quiet and subdued than their last encounter. âOh, there you are. Cal said they invited you over.â
âYeah,â Marvin scuffed his shoe against the porch, âThey were kind enough to catch me up to speed ân shit. I was about to head home.â
For a moment, she simply watched him, looking over his expression. It wasnât off from what had been expected. âRight. Of course.â
Her hair was largely unkempt, though still up in the ponytail, eyes perhaps a bit duller than they were before, dark underneath in a way that never really left her these days. He looked worse for wear himself, but presumably not to quite the level she appeared.
âI take it me being here was a disappointment, at best. Though I canât say Iâm surprised.â
âI mean⊠I was about to go home..â He muttered, averting his eyes to the treeline. For a moment he wished for better health so he might make a break for the safety of Pinwheel Forest. Like some kind of graceful deer. Probably.
With a waving hand gesture, she dropped her head. âWell, we have a back door youâre more than aware of. If being in my presence is truly so terrible.â
Are you fucking serious? Marvin made no effort to hide his expression of disbelief.
âOr,â He said through gritted teeth, âYou could move. Like. Two feet in either direction? For a singular minute?â
She glanced back at the treeline, âIâm aware that you hate me now. Donât believe Iâm not.â
Slack-jawed, Marvin could only stare at her. Before he could formulate a response that was only a little passive aggressive, the clawing-thing in his chest decided to worm its way through his jaws instead.
âWell, you really arenât helping your case, are you now?â He spat.
She simply looked at him, her expression hadnât particularly changed since this began. What reason would there be?
âThere wouldnât be much point to it. Itâs a miracle Cory doesnât hate me too, though I would understand them more.â
If his arms werenât occupied, he would have facepalmed.
âThere is a point. Itâs called not digging your goddamn hole any deeper. Saving face. Whatever!â He huffed, âLike, ok, youâre in a bad spot, I get it. Honestly? Itâs probably not the best time to have this talk! You look like shit! And frankly I think I can make a pretty safe assumption that you arenât feeling much better!â
Somewhere, a creature was crying, off in the trees. It was almost clearer in her ears than his words. She didnât look from his face.
âItâs not exactly a secret. And there wouldnât be much to save, would there? Not now. I failed, what more is there to do?â
âGet back up???â He said, like it was the most obvious answer possible.
âYou donât seriously plan to spend the rest of your life moping over this, right? I mean, fuck, spend a month or two, thatâs understandable! But holy fuck, Sasha, this isnât the end of the world!â Ok, this was not as gentle or as kind as this should be. However, Marvin was tired, he was in pain, and all he wanted to do was lay down in his bed and pretend to be a decaying log for the next twenty-four hours.
âYou failed! Everybody does! Congrats, youâre human! I canât count on my hands and feet the number of times I have failed in spectacular and horrifying ways! It happens! To everyone!â His voice went a pitch higher than heâd like, so he took a moment to clear his throat, âYour failures donât define you, what defines you is how you handle what comes after.â
It had nearly cost everything. Absolutely everything, that was her whole entire world. She was not about to lay down and die, but after everything they had gone through, it didnât feel like she had anywhere to go from here.
It was nearly the end of the world. Perhaps not his, but hers.
Though, even now there wasnât much to refute him. Instead, she said something else.
âYou didnât deny it.â
He rolled his eyes, âOk, here, let me spell it out then.â
Marvin cleared his throat, this time in a very theatrical manner, and put it quite plainly, âI am, quite frankly, pissed as fuck. I donât agree with your behavior, especially with how you treated Cory. Especially that.â
He took a deep breath, letting it out through his teeth, âBut I, somehow, cannot find it within me to hate you, Sasha.â
Now that gave her pause. Her eyes widened slightly, and she simply stared at him, unsure what exactly to say.
âOkay.â Was all she managed.
Marvin sighed.
âLook. I get it. Iâm sorry you didnât get to punch that asshole in the face. But he died a total loser. No accolades, no benefits, nothing. No one will remember his name, no one will mourn him, and he will rot until nothing remains. I donât know what he did to you, but heâs gone. And he wonât do it to anyone else.â
He let the words hang in the air for just a moment, âWe should talk again. When youâre not, like, trying to lay out your neck for me to step on and shit. Metaphorically.â
For once, she was truly at a loss. After a moment, the only option that seemed to make sense was simply to nod, not sure how to read his actions. It did not make much sense. Regardless, here they were. âI.. suppose we should. At another time.â
âYeah, definitely. I think if I donât get home in the next hour Iâll be sleeping in a mud puddle. Again.â He said, like it was only a minor inconvenience.
Oh, right. Her senses werenât so far gone she had failed to notice how worn out he looked, practically about to fall right where he stood. Quickly, she pushed to her feet and stepped up onto the porch out of the way, gesturing with an arm.
âI.. My apologies, Marvin, really, I shouldnât have kept you.â
âApology accepted,â He made his way past her, and turned to give her a small nod.
âIâll see you soon. Have a good night, Sasha.â
She gave a nod in return. âYou too, Marvin. Take care of yourself.â
âI will.â
Marvin turned away from her, finally heading off into the forest. It wasnât the dramatic break away he initially hoped for, but it felt a lot better.
Watching him leave, she leaned back against the wall, listening to the windchime in the breeze, rather than the swirling thoughts she had been left with in her mind.
bug pic
WHAT. WHAT ARE YOU. I'VE NEVER SEEN YOU BEFORE.
Mayday calm down. I don't want to fight you. I just want to talk
MMMMMMMMM i dont give a freakin coyotes ASS abt what U want kliff. what do u even WANT from us????Âż LOL LIKE WHATRE U EVEN THINKING SENDING THIS TO US DUDE.
ooohkay, she was about to type something pretty vile so uh. iâll take over for a sec. seriously, though, you have to admit itâs kind of weird to try and talk to us?we definitely didnât leave off on good terms in any sense of the word, and you spammed mayâs phone with âi just want to talkâ and some pretty... i dunno... manipulative messages.....?
Confrontation
Tracking down a secret admirer is no easy feat, but any reward worth having is a reward worth working for, even if it takes a few months: sometimes, you just have to gamble on it.
An interaction between Mr Edward Nygma, and Mr James Craddock, for your reading pleasure, between two scoundrels in search of lifeâs delights.
The Ghost was a hard man to pin down.
By his nature, he was a wanderlust. He moved where the money was; flitting between cities, countries, and continents, never content to stagnate. There were a few things he was guaranteed to materialize for, though: horse races, expensive antiques, and important news. He was a habitual horse better who had scarcely missed an important race in the continental United States, and had a mysterious fixer heâd mentioned once or twice by the name of Squire Shade.Â
And, as it so happened⊠Just a few miles south of Gotham, on a bright and unusually warm February morning, a derby was taking place. Itâd been greatly publicized the past few weeks, as it was an annual and highly contested event, and would make prime bait for anyone who happened to know Craddockâs gambling habits.Â
And there were some quite clever men out there who would hold an interest in that sort of thingâŠÂ
The air was clear, the wind was a little chilly this early in the morning, and the sun cheerfully shone, promising to warm up the stands; the crowd of a few thousand tramped through the dirt, milling around with one another whilst the racers readied themselves and the stands were slowly opened to spectators. It seemed almost like a festival; a little snapshot of a traditional spring carnival. Vendors sold merchandise, food, and drinks to patrons, and, of course, the stadium doled betting slips for the gambling patron. The air buzzed with electric interest; anticipation sparked off of everyoneâs lips.Â
No sign of the Gentleman Ghost for the moment⊠but that was the thing about ghosts, wasnât it? They didnât show themselves unless they wanted to.Â
==
If you wait in the right place, theyâll come.
Edward eyed the odds sheets with a wry smile, nostalgic. How his father loved listening to him prattle as a child, looking over the betting forms and picking his dear Pop a winner just about every time. It was a fun experience for them both: a few hours together, a few thrown races to sweeten the pot, and then a jackpot here and there just to even things out...and a very fair cut for young Edwardâs good work, as a simple sno-cone wouldnât suffice.
Calmly, he glanced over his betting slips: broad coverage, but heâd put his money on a mid-range racer. Mint julep in hand, he meandered off to find a good seat with some elbow room.
==
The ambient anxiety of the crowd was only growing; people with prying eyes looking towards the starting gates, craning their necks to see even though there was nothing yet to even look at.Â
The crowd was thick, but not so thick as to swallow up every seat. Edward had arrived early enough to get a spot that wasnât too far, wasnât too close, and where he wouldnât be browbeaten by the sun that was steadily rising.Â
About five minutes before the start of the race, there was just the smallest glimpseâ something that could be ignored if a person wasnât looking for it. A shimmer in the air, above the standsâ that looked, for just a moment, like a billowing cloak, before winking out.Â
He was here, it seemed, cutting it close⊠But didnât see fit to grace the populace with his signature, ghostly physique.Â
==
Ah. There he was: and who needed a seat when the air itself was at your command?
Edward watched him for a moment, sighing inwardly. Was it nice, he wondered, to fly? Was it relaxing, tiring, how did it feel to place your body in any relation with the world you wanted? Perhaps it was different when one was non-corporeal, but was it like zero-gravity? Something else, more elusive and yet even more wonderous?
Something as simple as existing in oneâs own capacity was beautiful, really, when in the right eyes. It was something he might know someday, but for now, he could dream freely about how much magic there was yet to be found.
Smiling, he stuck his forefingers in his mouth and gave a whistle.
==
It drew looks from people who were close by, made curious by the sound, but they quickly disregarded it as the horses and jockeys began to get to their positions.Â
He had gotten someoneâs attention, though. A moment later, there was a soft voice in Edwardâs right ear, disembodied but familiar; âWhy, I didnât know you liked the races, Mr. Nygma. Fancy seeing you hereâŠâÂ
==
âAre you kidding?â he smiled. âMy father and I had some of our best times at the races: I was his best bookie. Join me, James? Thereâs plenty of seats.â
==
âIs that rightâŠ?âÂ
Craddock seemed to consider the offer for a moment. Then, to Edwardâs right, the empty seat became suddenly occupied with the familiar attire of the Gentleman Ghost. He fidgeted in his opacity, seeming a little uncertain whether he really wanted to be opaque, but settled.Â
âYouâll excuse my rudeness in having been hidden,â Craddock murmured. âI get looks, you know. Iâm a little overdressed in some areas, and underdressed in others.â
==
âThat happens to me sometimes. When it does, I just ask why they decided not to look good today, and it usually gets them to back off.â he chuckled, fiddling with his cuffs. âItâs a mark of your caliber as a person, James: no need to hide your class.â
Underneath the thick veneer of charm, Edward fidgeted, excited. By all accounts, James had to be the secret admirer. He had to be. Was he? No doubt about it but maybe? Had to be, and how exciting: one ought to flirt a little and be sure.
With another sip of his julep, he gestured toward the starting gates. âHave you got a favourite? Iâve put the bulk of my faith in 1,000 Deaths.â
==
âI appreciate the words, but no matter how nice my garments or how upright I carry myself, the average mortal tends to be put off byâŠâ he gestured vaguely to his face. âAh, well.âÂ
He seemed to think for a minute, but it had always been hard to read Jamesâs thoughts with no visible face.Â
âMost of my stake is on Whetstone,â Craddock obliged. âHandsome thing. A very strong lineage, though quite young⊠not the favored to win, but still with a chance.âÂ
The announcer began speaking; the stadium chatter dampened, just for the moment. The tension was palpable, and James leaned forward, knee starting to bounce in impatience.Â
==
âWhetstone, hm? I put a smaller bet on him, just to keep my options broad.â
I wonder if heâs watched the lineage line of all of these horses. Heâs been around long enough, he could easily trace which racerâs from which stock. My word, he probably knows these horsesâ family trees for winning pedigreesâŠ
He settled back, brows raised as his mind bussed off merrily about horse family trees, but tuned back in at the opening trumpet. Setting aside his drink, Edward braced his elbows on his knees, rapt.
âGood luck.â
==
The race was exceptionally quickâ as derbies are supposed to be. Craddock kept the bench beneath him in a death grip, and he leaned so far forward that he mightâve toppled over.
His form was jitteringâ the material of his clothes starting to turn sludgy as his concentration waned. Had Edwardâs attention been turned off the race and to his companion, he wouldâve seen the featureless head of the Ghost flicker in-and-out of transparency; not long enough or solid enough to catch a good glimpse, but enough to signal his mind was elsewhere.
âDamnation!â was the Ghostâs hailing cry when Whetstone finished third, behind 1,000 Deaths and a hereto unmentioned horse called Brushed Gold.Â
==
Tsking, Edward rolled his eyes and frowned at his betting slips. âSo much for thatâŠâ
Loathe as he was to admit it, it was something he rather liked about the derby: there was always a chance he could be wrong, and that kept life fresh.
âThat wasnât even one of my picks. Luck certainly isnât on my side here, hm?â
He had not, in fact, noticed the loosened grip on Jamesâ form, eyes trained on the horses. With a scowl, he sipped his julep.Â
â...Sorry for third place, chum.â
==
James gave a short, agitated sigh. âShade will have staked everything on Brushed Gold. Mark my words. That bastardââ
He stopped short, and tilted his head in interest. Intrigue in anything other than the horses and their riders was a rare thing for him on a racetrack, but the julep had caught his eye. He hadnât taken much notice of the concessions at these sorts of things before, a little preoccupied by more pressing mattersâ like whether Squire Shade had fixed this race, too.
â... Oh, what do you have there?â
==
âOh, this?â he asked, lifting up his drink. âMint julep, a derby tradition in the south. Of course, itâs out of place during April in the north, but why not have fun with the occasion? If Iâm going to lose, at least I can enjoy my drink.â
He grinned a bit. âWant a sip?â
Can I contract illnesses from ghosts? Time to find out.
==
â... A little,â Craddock confessed. Again, he knew the sweet siren song of food and drink, and that it would never taste nearly as good as some corner of his mind rememberedâ but there was no harm in it. âI, too, would wish to dull the sting of my lossâŠâÂ
He would be having words with Shade soon, hopefully sometime before the bastard pinched every penny from his pocketbookâŠÂ
â... if you donât mind?âÂ
==
âItâd be odd to ask and then not offer. Here.â he said, holding the glass over, straw presented. Ghosts were fascinating, really. Where did the drink go? He knew he didnât really taste it well, but if the spirit was willing enough, would it compensate for the missing flesh?
Was this what people considered an indirect kiss?
...Be quiet, brain, donât get all excited over inconclusive information.
âHave all you like.â
==
With a grateful nod, Craddock takes the glass. He takes a modest sip, the liquid suspended humorously in the air for a moment before it travels down an invisible windpipe and out of sight.Â
âOh,â he says, and he sounds strangely delighted. âOh, I actuallyâŠâ
The taste was more striking than he had suspected (which was not saying muchâ a mouthful was still no better than what he suspected a droplet or two would be) and it proved an unexpected pleasure.
âSo interesting, on the tongueâŠâÂ
==
âYou like that? Itâs a very summery drink, always drunk at the Kentucky Derby.â
But Iâm sure you knew that much.
â...Iâm sorry, I have to ask...have you been following Whetstoneâs family line through the racehorse generations?â Always with the questions: he even annoyed himself, now, with how he blurted them out. âOr any or all of them?â
==
He brightened.
His hat, of its own accord, lifted itself off his head and placed itself in his lap; he removed, from within it, a bleached-white pen and a colorless scratchpad.
âAs a matter of fact,â he said. âI have. I donât have my completed ancestry chart in front of me, but I still rememberâŠâ
He began drawing little boxes and lines, filling in a dizzying amount of names. The family tree branched into a maniacal, tangled root system.
âAs you can see, thereâs a few important derby wins by his ancestry⊠The earliest I can recall is 1897âŠâ he paused, and started highlighting names.
âItâs a hobby of mine, tracing these. I did try ever so hard to get my horseâs lineage, to see if he had any interesting ancestry, but that never truly went anywhereâŠâÂ
==
Edward perked up in turn, in twinned delight of being on the mark with his suspicion and well-received in his query. Watching James draw out a lineage chart from memory was dazzling: his heart did a little leap to see his penmanship. Every detail was as enchanting as another, and he remembered so much so well..!
âWhatâs your horseâs name?â
==
He paused. The pad and pen returned themselves to his hat, which he placed on his head.Â
âWhen I first realized I had the beast,â he admitted, âI was not feeling particularly⊠creative. I referred to it as âthe Horseâ for some timeâŠâ He gave a slight laugh. âAfter calling it all sorts of things. Damnable creature. Demon from hell. Wicked beast from the underworld. After a while, just âmy Steedâ, and that stayed. I suppose I should get around to a proper name some day.âÂ
==
â...That does beg the question: was it always a skeleton, or was it a living horse at some point?â Edward wondered aloud, muttering into his glass. âAnd if it was a living horse, what compelled it to become a ghost..?â
After a moment, he shuddered. âIâm going to assume itâs just a necromancerâs experiment.â Much kinder to the mind than the notion of a vengeful horse, knowing the nature of such beasts. âM-moreover, horses donât need names, strictly speaking, so long as they know who youâre talking to.â
==
James had opened his mouth to correctâ but stopped just short of it.
He knew very well where Steed had come fromâ well, that wasnât strictly true, but he knew why the beast came forth at his beckoning.Â
But he got the feeling this was one thing that Edward would be happier not knowing. James was loathe to ruin that handsome look of interest etched on his face with an honest answer.Â
As he stared a moment at Mr. Nygmaâs face, James realized there would be an expectation to respond, and he mentally backpedaled to where the conversation had been.
O, Lord, let me keep my wits for just a moment longer⊠Donât stare at his beguiling smile, Craddock.Â
âAh, yes, thatâs reasonable. I have no other beast of burden, so Steed wonât be puzzled by the name.â
==
âItâs very cool that you can summon a horse, mind you.â Edward grinned, glancing up to look James in the monocle. âYouâre...hah, well.âÂ
He turned to his julep again, hiding his smile. â...quite the interesting character, James. I appreciate your patience with all of my questions.â
==
âAh, I am happy to answer them.â
He had asked for payment for such queries beforeâ but it seemed a little ungentlemanly to ask now. Besides⊠this rather public place was not the kind of area to indulge⊠in that sort of payment.Â
Scandalous. Imagine if Shade were watchingâŠ
He had started tinging that strange, mother-of-pearl pink for a short time again, before settling back to his normal coloration. There was a slight, almost unconscious tug at his collar.
âYouâre one of very few whom I would share secrets and knowledge of this kind withâ I consider you a valued friend, Mr. Nygma.âÂ
==
As out of his depth in the realms of romance as Edward tended to be, even he could parse out a blush when he saw one.
He hummed, inspecting the ghost for a moment before his lips curled into a broad, knowing smile. Smug as anything, detestable, and easily recognized as a magnet for many a fist.
âSomething on your mind~?â
==
Oh, he did not like that facial expression. It made him think Edward knew something horrible and secret that he didnâtâ James instinctively brought his hand to his face on the off-chance that heâd let his countenance run around unchecked.
No, that wasnât itâŠ
âAh, no, I⊠was just wondering when the next race wouldâŠâ he petered out, very well knowing that this lie was not going to get better the longer it went.
â...â
==
âAh, right. Time to go place some fresh bets, is it?â he asked, duly âdistractedâ from his line of query. Let it simmer a bit, and itâll all come to a head.Â
âIâm going to try out a few Iâve never heard of...call it an inspiration, given the last race. If some nobodyâs going to win a surefire race like that, then itâs time to start paying more attention to the nobodies.â
==
Craddock nodded.
âMine have been placed well in advance,â he murmured. âIâll keep your place safe for you⊠ah, and perhaps get something for you to eatâŠ?â
He seemed a little more subdued than usualâ warily waiting for the bar of the Riddlerâs suspected trap to spring. There was some small amount of dogged wariness and suspicion thatâs readable just from his posture, even if his face gives nothing away.Â
==Â
âYouâre right, I should.â said Edward, rising and stretching with a quiet grunt in his nose, a few joints popping. âIf you donât mind keeping the seat?â
==
âOf course,â he had no earthly idea what compelled him to add, in this non-violent crowd on a lovely, non-violent dayâ âReturn safelyâŠâÂ
People had already mostly drained out of the stadium, moving for snacks, souvenirs, collections of winnings, talk amongst themselves, or a bathroom trip.Â
What does he know that I donâtâŠ?Â
==
âWith any luck.âÂ
Edward gave a little wave as he meandered off, pondering his next bets as he walked, as well as whatever nightmares the concession stand might offer that resembled sustenance. A hot dog? Technically food, good enough. Nachos?
You should ask him, honestly. But is this the place and time?
...Truly, is there a better one? Weâre face to face, so to speak, and itâs always better etiquette to ask in person rather than across the internet, especially with matters of the heart.
And heâs so...cute, really, when heâs flustered.
Just donât scare him off by being a bastard, Edward, of all the things you could doâŠ
He sighed, placing a few bets at random, as well as one on Whetstone, and then wandered back to his seat with his assortment of edibles.
==
Craddock was not alone on his arrival. As a matter of fact, it almost looked like seeing double.
Two men in mantled white coats and tall hats, sporting a signature eyepiece and no face⊠the differences were small, and only noticeable if searching.
The second wore a bow-tie instead of a cravat, wore glasses instead of a monocle, and was slightly bigger around the waistband than Craddock.
They seemed to be arguing. They had very similar voices and accents, tooâ though the doubleâs seems to be slightly richer, more aristocratic.
âI canât give that to you,â Craddock was saying.
âYou stakedââ
âI know what I staked. Just take whatever you want from the mausoleum.âÂ
âBut itâs a pain to go all the way out thereâŠâ
âA walk would do you some good, Shadeââ
Shade, who had been occupying Edwardâs seat, seemed to notice him coming.
âLater, then. Letâs hope Whetstone does better, mmm?âÂ
The second ghost took his leave, sinking back through the bleachers as if swallowed by quicksand.
Craddock turned, brightening noticeably on spotting Edward. âMr. Nygma! Youâve returnedâ burdened with food.â
His voice implied a smile.
==
âIf thatâs what it can be considered.â he replied genially, inspecting his seat for ectoplasmic residue before taking his seat. âAssociate of yours, James?â
Heaven forbid he call anyone a âfriendâ offhandedly: thatâd be presumptuous.
âOr just a copycat for fashion?â
==
James grimaced; not that Edward could tell.
âAssociate is a good word for him⊠That was Squire Shadeâ Iâm sure Iâve mentioned him before.â
He was concerned Shadeâs presence mightâve bothered the mortal, and he carried on: âHis was just a temporary darkening of my doorstep. Heâll collect his earnings and go back to Europe. Itâs nothing to be concerned withâŠâ
It occurs to him now to fish for whatever had Edward in such good spirits a moment ago. Heâll have to be subtle.
â... Especially not at the moment. Trustworthy company makes ugly company look all the worse, donât you agreeâŠ?âÂ
==
âNothing makes me appreciate a good cup of coffee like drinking a very bad one.â he agreed, settling back with his snacks. âTake what passes for my lunch today: eating this will make even the ordinary meal Iâm having later taste even better than it already would.â
Truly, he didnât mind Squire Shade as a concept, but there was something irksome about someone being in his seat, talking to his colleague (who sounded annoyed about it) that ruffled his feathers just a touch.
âCare for a nacho?â
==
âOooh, yes. Iâve seen them before, but not tried one.âÂ
He took a chip, and in exchange returned the julep, which was looking a little less full than Edward remembered.Â
âOh, it crunches.â Ghost murmured, as if to himself. âInterestingâŠâ
==Â
Edward, noting the state of his julep, couldn't help but smile a bit as he nibbled his own chip.Â
"You know, I could buy you a julep, if you would like one." Or does this one taste better because it's mine?
==
âI would,â he hazarded. âItâs rare I find something that I can taste and find worth tasting⊠Iâd pay you for it, of course.âÂ
There was the loveliest little smile playing over Edwardâs lips, and it made the Ghostâs stomach feel strangely warm. This was the kind of thing he wouldâve taken a beau out forâ a lovely warm spring day at the racetrack⊠James had courted many a lady in such a place, though never a gentleman overtly.Â
Change subjects, James.Â
â... Iâll confess I have not kept in touch as well as I should have,â the Ghost began. âHow have things been in Gotham, lately?âÂ
==Â
The proverbial trap twitched, as James asked just the right question. Edward's expression became downright sunny.
"It's been a very interesting few months, actually. I've been receiving these charming little notes from a secret admirer, and it's just been delightful for me. The mystery, the eloquence in wording, it's all been just so exciting! I've never had one before, have you?"
==
Oh no.
The Ghost could feel the bar of Edwardâs trap moving to snap his neck, not unlike the noose thatâd taken his life. His hands itched to touch his throat.Â
âOh, have you?â James mirrored the other manâs cheery disposition, seemingly unfazed. âThat must be quite exciting. I do so love the intrigue, the romance of an unknown suitorâ I received letters like that in my life, but not during my death.âÂ
==
"It's been absolutely compelling.â Edward agreed cheerily. âOf course, the one downside to the entire situation is not being able to know how to reciprocate, or whether Iâd like to at all. Itâs a good thing that this admirerâs classy, with a certain je ne sais quoi, otherwise Iâd toss their work out along with all of the weird fan letters I used to get in Arkham.â
He sighed (if a pinch dramatically) and sipped his julep. âHow can I ever respond to the anonymous? Itâs like whistling into the wind.â
If youâre going to fess up, nowâs your chance.
The wire creaked, threatening.
Confess.
==
Do ghosts sweat?
Well, they donât, but Craddock definitely felt like he was. He knew he should say somethingâ seize the opportunity now, while it was convenient⊠Edward had proved receptive, openâ
But would it be the same if he knew it came from a ghastly spectre like myself?
âThey havenât left so much as a clue to their identity? How agonisingâŠâÂ
Damnation, Craddockâ the deeper you dig, the more difficult it will be to get out ofâŠ!
==
âThey have. A few, actually.â he replied easily, listing on his fingers. âFamiliar tone of address, so itâs someone I know. Recently discovered the anonymous feature, and their first instinct is to go send mischief to someone whoâll appreciate it. The real smoking gun, though, is the language choice. Antiquated, lyrical, boldly professing, dramatic...and not just anyone would lean on sending someone a flirty note a âghastlyâ action.â
Edward looked to James with a small yet infuriatingly knowing grin. âSound familiar, James Craddock?â
==
Each word was like the footstep up to the noose, each one more damning than the last. James did start sweating about mid-way in, his form starting to wobble and bubble in a rather curious way. The unintentional salmon sheen his body took on only damned him more.Â
âI,â he said, unintelligently. âI- It sounds⊠good sir⊠quite like you are⊠accusing me of⊠indecent behaviorâŠâ
Itâs as flimsy an excuse as any that can be raised, but his instincts tell him to stall as long as possible.
The problem was he couldnât just escape this as he might a persistent lawmanâŠÂ
==
âAn accusation would imply that itâs a bad thing.â said Edward, tone silky. âBut, not to put too fine a point on things: if you have something to say, youâre allowed to say it to my face.â
==
The highwaymanâs instinct was to escape and regroup when better prepared. Craddockâs not a coward, per se, but he knew how to preserve his own lifeâ oh, hmm, poor metaphor, he supposed. He had self-respect enough to not partake in a losing battle.
But he knew that wouldnât win him any favors.Â
This was his stageâ and he must perform.
âYou are⊠interesting to me,â Craddock said, carefully. âIn a way that few people were when I was alive⊠and even fewer now that I am deceased. Perhaps I mightâve⊠expressed unsolicited fondnessâ I have made mention before, mark you, that ghosts are prone to fits of melancholy⊠They swing to the other side of the pendulum, quite often, as well⊠and I was in a⊠joyous mood, a jocular type ofâŠâÂ
He spared a fleeting wish that the next race would begin already.Â
â... I meant nothing untoward by it.â
==
â...That is, perhaps, the most roundabout âyesâ Iâve heard in some time.â Edward murmured fondly. âBut, ah...hereâs some reassurance, as the recipient.â
Gently, he took Jameâs hand into his own, and kissed the top of his knuckles. Just so, just lightly, just enough.
âI like it, and Iâm glad I was right to suspect you.â he said, patting Jamesâ hand genially. âFeel free to continue, it makes my heart go pitter-pat.â
==
The rush of affection James felt was absurd.
First, like a fist to the stomachâ then cloying and heady, sticking in his lungs and his brain. He received it well⊠heâs open to it⊠he...
Suspicion was there, but as an afterthought to the hope fluttering in his breast.
Itâd been a long time since heâd had something like this, and as much as he liked to deny it, now that he was no longer flesh, the spirit grew strongâ and it hungered for contact with the living, with the desperate ache of a lover separated from their beau.Â
Before Edwardâs eyes, the ghost seemed to meltâ metaphorically, yes, and literally, as his body forgot its shape and began to run like syrup.
Just as quick, the ghostâs ectoplasm churned and retook its shape.
âMy apologies, my apologies, ahhâ if I had, known the reception would beâ I never would haveâ So childishly...â He shied his head to the side. âGive me a moment, toâ collect myselfâŠâÂ
==
âTake your time.â said Edward, preoccupying himself with his lunch, hand still atop Jameâs.
Heâs worried about seeming childish when Iâm the one who makes games and puzzles and toys...who has the right to be so adorable?
Moreover, he gelled, which was fascinating to ponder. Ghosts blush. Ghosts have physical reactions to being embarrassed: bodywide, presumably because all they had was a manifestation of themselves, rather than a body to pilot from the heart and soul.
No wonder he hid his face: it took away the unspoken expressions that his own form could betray under duress.
âI find it charming, personally.â
==.
âFalling apart at the seams is not charming,â James muttered, insistently. âThis is unbecoming for one such as I.âÂ
After a moment, he straightened, smoothing away a glob of ectoplasm back into his shoulder. He regained his composure.
â... Iâm⊠happy you like it,â James admitted. âI havenât courtedâ in quite some time, and it was jesting, partiallyâ I didnât think you would take it seriously.âÂ
==
âWell~. Do you want to make it more serious, or shall we have flirting? Iâm content either way.â
Iâd rather be serious, but no pressure. He knew heâd already had James raked across the coals today, no need to be overly pushy now that itâs in the open.
âI confess, I do admire you quite a bit myself! I hadnât said much on it because, well... I always got caught up in the excitement of knowing you at all.â
He fidgeted a bit at that, quieting down: all the smug bravado in the world canât make up for a weak and ill-timed admission.
â...If, that helps to know, any.â
==
âNot to put you on the spot⊠but does your admiration fall with me, or the nature of my person?â James asked, gently.Â
==
â...Hm.â
Edward sat back, sipping his julep as he gave this some thorough consideration.
There was, without a doubt, a large fascination at play with the supernatural. Pretending it wasnât would just be insulting to both parties, so nevermind to that: itâs given. But what is there besides that, to their dynamic?
Edward considered, eyes shut, on feelings. This was very different than his arrangement with Bruce, for the simple fact that there was no sense of tension or panic. This wasnât the horrific grips of a crush, literally crushing his mind, this was...light, airy, cheerful, exciting. All of the good things they talk about with these sorts of situations. James was nice. James was fun, sneaky, pesky, patient, kind without sacrificing the fact that he was a bastard. It was comforting, really, to spend time with someone who kept himself to a certain standard even as a crook. It was...warm.
â...both, but thereâs...warmth, here. Not like when Iâve got a new subject to study, of a new game to try out, or a new language to learn. This is excitement, but itâs...comfortable, too, if that makes sense. Youâre good to me, and I like being around you.â he said, after a long pause. Brows furrowed, he added: âI have to admit...I donât have much experience in affairs of the heart, so I donât know if Iâm making sense...but thereâs more there than just discovery, even if I canât name it.â
==
The Ghost nodded, as if Edward had relayed a truth he was already well aware of.Â
âYour candor isâŠ. Relieving,â he sighed. âI was not sure if you could feel that way for a spiritâ or, if you did, it was only because of that.âÂ
There was a small pause.
âIn honesty, part of my attraction to you is how⊠alive you are.âÂ
==
âHow alive I am?â he asked curiously, offering the remains of the julep. Thereâs enough to be worth taking. âIs that why you keep taking my pulse?â
==
 He drank.Â
âYou have no idea how absolutely beautiful it is to be alive,â Craddock said, dreamily. He seemed a little faraway. âThe smallest breath to me is the most wondrous thing. Your pulse⊠so sweet, Edward. So lovely.âÂ
==
Edward watched him, gaze softening from bright curiousity to tender affection. No matter how a busy mind could scream and over-analyze, there was little anyone could do about the honesty in their face.
Ah. That was it, wasnât it? There was something, right there, that he adored. So many people he knew treated life like a calloused and dull affair to be tolerated, but James, just like Edward...James cherished life, its splendors, its opportunities. There was so much to enjoy about existing...was that what kept him all along? A love for life so strong that death couldnât claim his heart?
âMhm~?â
==
He seemed to shake himself out of it.
âItâs⊠Iâm uncertain if this peculiar love is a common condition among ghosts, or just I that feels it. But it is⊠strong, and oh-so thrillingâŠâ
There was the slight, pearly blush again. âI am sorry if I concealed part of the truth from you when asking for the payment I did, those months ago. It was⊠a lapse in judgement. Selfishness.â
==
âIt doesnât matter if itâs common among ghosts: itâs something I really like about you.â said Edward fondly.Â
...is the pulse thing sexual, though? No, donât ask him that. Thereâs more important questions, and those can wait too.
âI donât mind the delay: being selfish is fun sometimes, isnât it? I like that youâre a scallywag, too.â
==
He laughed.Â
âOne of the finest. Youâre lucky.âÂ
His pride seemed to have recovered, twice-over; puffing like a particularly cocky rooster, primping himself now that Edwardâs affections had been secured.Â
==
âI most certainly am~â he smiled, awfully proud himself. There was the small issue of his other boyfriend, but thereâs surely time enough to negotiate that after the glowâs settled out a bit. Either it will be or it wonât, but hopefully, since Selinaâs in the picture for Bruce, perhaps Edward can have his cake and eat it too, just as well.
Thoroughly pleased with himself, Edward rubbed a thumb over Jamesâ knuckles. â...I really did like those notes, you know. Made me feel special.â
==
âWell, you are,â James murmured. He lifted Edwardâs hand, and with a moment of hesitation, pressed a kiss to his knuckles. The contact of his lips was as cold as the graveâ and leathery as an old boot.Â
âI could keep sending them, if you like it.âÂ
==Â
He shuddered, as he always did at contact, but chuckled as well. Ah! He has lips! Theyâre freezing and tough: this is filed away immediately in his mind among other tidbits of interest.
âYou should, especially since I would have little recourse but to send a few back myself.â assured Edward. âAs I said before, itâs hard to reciprocate without an address to send notes to...and Iâve had time aplenty to accrue my compliments.â
==
âAh, yes,â Craddock murmured to himself. âI⊠I should make a permanent residence in Gotham, shouldnât I? There will be more reasons to visit now... more reasons to stay.â He seemed to be convincing himself into it, and with a determined lift of his chin, declared: âIâll⊠make an effort to get a haunt of my own. Iâm sure Shade knows mortals who handle that kind of thingâŠâÂ
His purse is curling up and dying at the thoughtâ but heâd had a few lifetimes to get enough money for a proper home in Gotham.Â
==
âOnly if you want it in writing...and even then I could send it to wherever you want it to be sent.â said Edward calmly. âAfter all, if youâre visiting Gotham, thereâs no need to go through all of the trouble of getting a place when you could just...visit mine.â
Again, that foul, smug smile of his has crept deep into his cheeks.
==
That did not seem to have occurred to him, busy grandly dreaming of a Gatsby-esque existence of quiet solitude and pining. It takes him a moment to recover.Â
â... you seem like youâre suggesting something rather⊠crude, Mr. NygmaâŠâ the smile bled through his voice.Â
==
âIâm simply pointing out that I have a spare bedroom that is no longer occupied by a massive computer array.â he said primly, eating a nacho before continuing. âAnd that itâs pragmatic to offer it as space, in the event that youâd rather not go through real estate paperwork.â
==
âMmm, a massive computer array,â Craddock seemed quite merry. âSo Iâm not the first love youâve invited there.â
He had a small mouthful of julep. He couldnât tell if it actually made his hunger for taste any better or worse. He had another mouthful.
âThe proposition is interesting, anyway. Iâm sure the arrangement would be beneficial to both of us.â
Heâs outright teasing now.
==
âComputers arenât my first love, and that one, well...came with a rather long story attached, thatâs for another time, where Iâm less sober and more irate.â
It did, however, seem to be the time to mentionâŠ
âThere might be a hiccup, mind you, in this cozy little affair here...you see, I was asked out by another suitor on Valentineâs day, days after you sent your first messages.â Edward admitted, if a bit grimly. âMind you, he himself has another he sees, so naturally Iâll have to ask him if an arrangement between you and I would offend...I donât see why heâd decline it, but itâs only respectful to ask first.â
He mulled over a nacho, frowning slightly. âAnd if he says no, I have a lot of thinking to do...and for once, Iâd really rather not.â
==
Ah, was any giddy leap complete without a plummeting fall?
Was he disappointed? Yes.
Was he crushed? Not quite.
âHnnm,â he said, the extent of his verbal acknowledgement. âOh, look. The next race is about to start.âÂ
==
Ah. There it was, the rare and unmistakable sensation of guilt, settling thickly into the pit of his stomach.
âSo it is. Have you got any new bets?â
At least that was a nice five minutes...and, as always, at least we have the now.
==
âI sunk a fairly consistent amount into Whetstone,â Jamesâs fingers rolled an interesting tattoo across his knee.Â
James wasnât unfamiliar with the idea of polyamory. He knew the women he saw during his life had an endless string of boyfriends, and he was only one of the mob. He knew the men heâd courted, so carefully and privately, had their heartâs desire elsewhere. It was not new to him.Â
But he had thought that maybeâŠ
...
He didnât feel much like watching the race anymore. Losing to Squire Shade would be grating, and EdwardâŠ
Stick it out, James. This is far from the worst outcome of today.Â
==
âI gave him a fresh bet for this race, myself.â
Damn it. Damn it all to absolute Hell, in what world was it fair to spend 37 years in ambivalence only to come around and find any affections at last split between two? And now, lurching around in him, was the maelstrom of doubt and humiliation, the latter ten times worse than the former in any capacity. The silence was deafening, the mood wrecked: heâd ruined everything as usual by saying too much.
Let go of his hand and stop disappointing people, Edward.
==
Ghost, meanwhile, is silently rationalizing a mile a minute.
Who is this other? How do I compare? Is he Edwardâs first choice?
Then, a small, unusual part of his psyche chimed in with his criminally underdeveloped sense of empathy:
Does choosing hurt him?
That was a disturbing thought.Â
He ought to withdraw, kindly, as a gentleman. This other, whomever they might be, would be the ideal choiceâ mortals are better paired with mortals.
A thought occurred to himâ solace, comforting as a frostbitten man seeking fire, or the heat-scorched for shade. James let out a small, kindly little laugh. It rings, clear and gleeful, like a bell.
==
The laugh snapped Edward out of his spiral of self-loathing, frown lifting from explicit discomfort to bemusement.Â
â...um...yes?â he offered, curious. âWhat is it?â
==
âThat doesnât matter,â James said, swallowing the last of his laughter. âOh, God, it doesnât matter at all to me.â
He took Edwardâs hands in his, stared at him directlyâ there was a flicker of something there for a fraction of a second, like a reflection in a mirror passing by. Dark, intent eyes, haunting for just a momentâŠ
âYouâre speaking to one of the most selfish, stingy men on the planet, Edwardâ did you think jealousy would seize me so hard that Iâd be struck stupid? Iâd be a fool to lose thisââ he gestures between the two of them, ââover something so small. I donât care who they are, I donât care that you love themâ itâs enough that you love me.âÂ
==
Edwardâs eyes were open, jaw slacked and mouth agape in wonder of what heâd just been told, as the trumpets sounded to queue the racers to their starting gates. A flush crept easily across his nose and cheeks as he began to smile once more.
âReally?! You mean it?â
==
âYes, really. Who would say something like that and then recant it?â Perhaps a bit harsh, but the Ghost was buzzing with nervous energy. âIâll accept whatever you give me, Edward. Itâs enough that itâs anything at all.â
==
âYouâd be amazed by how many people tend to say things without thinking them through.â he breathed, cheeks pink and eyes bright in excitement. âI, I have to admit, I thought you were about to drop the whole thing then and there.â
==
I was, he almost said, but that would win him no favors.Â
âI am cognizant of my faults,â Craddock said, instead. âIâm far, far too selfish for that.âÂ
==
âArenât I lucky, then, that you are.â he chuckled, utterly relieved. âAnd people talk like itâs a bad thing, to want and keep things.â
There is a sneaking feeling in the back of his mind that James is putting on a brave front, but then, so is Edward: thereâs an open end that cannot be resolved immediately, therefore itâs best not picked at, so much as treated and patched until real answers can be gotten.
âI donât think itâs a fault, when itâs honest.â BANG, and the horses are off.
=end=

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LEDs Still Can't Beat a Flash: LitraTorch 2.0 LED Light Review
It has one really big flaw but is otherwise pretty perfect.
At the same price point, I think a photographer can get a better flash than the LitraTorch 2.0 LED light.
The long term complaint from many photographers is that learning how to use a flash is hard. And with the prevalence of LED lights, it seems like the industry is trying to fight the tried and true flash. But at similar price points to the LitraTorch 2.0, I think a photographer might getâŠ
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We interrupt your dash for an outfit change!!! This is something I was meaning to do for a little bit, but I kept putting it off because I couldnât edit the sprites. But thatâs no longer the case! Look forward to seeing a new outfit reveal soon... :3c
unrelated, but these were some weird color combos to work with.... maybe these three should interact less /j (more like, maybe I should quit doing only analogous character pairings...)
Quirk free dialogue:
Hiraeh: ...Shit.
Hiraeh: Hey Purrol, any chance you have one of those privacy screens or anything that I can borrow?
Purrol:Huh? Uh, yeah, sure... How did you know?
Hiraeh: Lucky guess tbh.
Purrol, thinking while waiting: ...Am I that predictable...?
Hiraeh: Thanks again for the help, Purrol!! Real quick, how does this look?
Purrol: Ohh, my... gosh...
T: Hey, fuckface!
> Someone found your shitty blog.
> And some asshole, aka you, has been documenting our shit. People from North Park are already talking--
K: Dude, what--
T: Donât âdude, whatâ me! Your blog was leaked. How have you not seen all the papers lying around?
K: I--
T: Donât even start, McCormick. This is your fault for having to butt your nose into everything. So congratu-fucking-lations for ruining my life yet again.





