STRONGER & SMARTER THAN EVER .ᐟ

No matter how much he doesn't share Penguin's... approach to run things in Gotham the Joker does appreciate his ability to talk and get right down to business.

A smile grows wide across his scarred, painted face as the Agent of Chaos gets quite amused by Penguin's careful choice of words instead of simply saying he's a pain in the ass. That's why he never trusts the guy. There's this unspoken rule -- if you're gonna offer something worthy and mutually beneficial, you do just that instead of beating around the bush. The Joker senses something fishy, but he's going to play along.

"I'd saaaay..." A smack of lips. "I'm all ears, Ozziiiiieeee." He runs his tongue over his mouth. "So, what would that be? Your uh, proposal ?"

a satisfied huff pushes itself from penguin’s nose, hand quickly reaching behind the lapels of his pin-striped suit, dislodging a newspaper clipping laying in wait in the inside pocket.  as he lays the page down on mahogany, fingers swiftly push it halfway between himself and the clown prince. “ this man, ”   he begins, all remnants of a smile giving way to a tight jaw & the dull furrow of dark brows.   “ gotham’s so-called saviour. liberator of the people, cure to crime— ”   in all his dramatic flair, oswald can’t help but rise from his seat, pointing a rigid finger to the image of the enemy.  “ — is nothing but a monster. ” 

eyes flicker between the image & the clown, an attempt to gauge joker’s thoughts as he makes his speech. it’s a useless endeavour, but that is precisely why he needs him.   “ i have made great efforts to dismantle him.  despite the love of the people, and my power over the underworld, i’ve made few strides. they listen to me, of course - carry through order . . . but that’s the issue! order!  you, ”  

ᅠ `` oh , but there is * always time for riddles .ᐟ ``

painted lips spewed out a counter , twitching upwards in amusement that it does very little to hide . green clad limbs tighten grip around sharp ended cane —— before it is painted towards the not so feathered bird . the joy of observing features twist in whatever emotion edward could draw out , it was something that never bored .

eyes flutter closed as he thinks the statement over again:  i’m high above, yet close at hand - a shelter strong, above the land. i stay strong-willed through rain and hail, above all i do prevail. what am i? 

a gasp: “ the roof, ”  flightless bird no longer, it would seem, as oswald stands with a swiftness that knocks the chair out from under him. “ you are a nuisance, and entirely unhelpful. oh — and if you point that thing at me again, i will shove it down your throat. ”