#stillpenguinking

It was packed, as usual, and after a few quick commands, he made it to the bar, where he assumed Oswald would be. But, when he got there, he saw that Oswald wasn’t serving drinks this time. Still, no matter.

“Barkeep,” he called, snapping his fingers loudly to get the man’s attention. Get me a glass of creme de menthe. White.” The woman hadn’t sat down, so he turned to her and nodded to the chair beside his. “Come on, sit down,” he said. She did. Then he turned his attention back to the barkeeper. “And get the owner to come out here. Tell him it’s important.”

He was sick of not being able to drink, so he snapped his fingers to get the attention of one of the waiters. “Close the club. Lock the doors. And send the manager over here.” The man’s expression went blank, the way they always did, and he said, “Of course,” in an empty voice. He walked away, and Kilgrave reclined on the couch a little, and glanced at the woman sitting beside him, who hadn’t said a word since she’d been told to sit down. He’d almost forgot she was there.

Though she’d promised Harley she would stay away, Isabella couldn’t. She simply couldn’t. She stood on the doorstep of Oswald’s home, and stared up at it, thought Edward’s in there. The fact that he was sitting on Oswald’s couch, sleeping in Oswald’s bed, eating from Oswald’s cutlery, was absolutely sickening. It was so wrong she could hardly stand it.

She’d never actually been inside Oswald’s home, but, in her mind, it was a dark place, like something from a Gothic horror novel, with black walls and high ceilings and dusty mirrors. There was probably umbrellas everywhere, and penguin-themed objects, and everything was purple and ebony. The idea of Edward in such a dank, loveless, place was chilling. He didn’t belong there. It was like trapping a butterfly in a box.

And, goodness, she wanted to see him. Just for a moment. Even if he was busy, and shut the door in her face, even seeing him, checking his injuries, would make her feel so much better. It wasn’t as if she was going to enter the building, or break any of her promises to Harls. She wasn’t planning on talking to him. She just had to see him.

So, she took a deep breath, and walked up to the front door. And then, without a second’s hesitation, she knocked briskly.

 514A walked through the room like they owned the place, graceful hand grazing over a smooth figurine as they approached- silent- the lone being in the office of the lounge. 

  Dark eyes rose up and fixed on him, sitting alone on his throne: the rising crime lord who no matter what always managed to fight off all contenders for the crown. Admirable and despite the bleak history with their mama, 514A did feel a touch of fondness for Oswald’s nature.

 “ Mr. Cobblepot ” They said in a soft voice, not intended to startle or scare, and the younger came up behind Oswald’s chair: leaning over with a tilt to see the other. They pulled on a small smile. “ You continue to do well- always has been your finest trait ”

Send me ♥ for a sexual/naughty text