With a sigh the Riddler opens the door to his penthouse. He had just come from Oswald's house, but Oswald had refused to see him. Somehow Oswald knew about Riddler going through with his plan of helping the Red Hood meet the cities biggest drug lords. Obviously he wasn't taking it very well. Edward hadn't expected to get the cold shoulder from his oldest and dearest friend.
The worse part was that Oswald was more than just a friend to Edward. Especially given the most recent interactions between them. Edward loved Oswald. Had he even told him that? The Riddler wasn't even certain now. Damn shock therapy. However, he was certain that he had definitely shown him. That was something that no amount of shock therapy could take from him. It was in a rudamentally basic and very primal way, sure, but sex is more than a physical entity. It's emotional as well. And for two men, with testosterone pumping through them, it's a jesture of submission. It's a treaty that speaks of trust. It was fully giving yourself to another. It was embarking on something completely sacred.
It had been spontaneous. Definitely not something that had ever been on Edward's to-do-list. But it WAS NOT something that Edward walked into blindly with little or no thought. In one flash it just all presented itself clearly in his mind. One kiss brought up, and at the same time, answered a thousand questions. The only logical thing he saw to do was to claim Oswald's as his, while at the same time surrendering himself to him completely.
Edward's eyes stare at the wooden floor as he walks across it, heading to his office. Had he moved too quickly? Had he come across as someone who sleeps around? Had reality crept into Oswald's mind? Did he see the whole thing as a mistake? Was he now in regret and pushing him away? Was that the whole reason Oswald was so mad about the whole Red Hood thing?
Edward reaches out to the door to his office. He turns the knob and opens it. He walks into the pitch black room as he had a thousand times. The blacked out room was to keep prying eyes from sneaking peeks at whatever illegal things he may have been cooking up in his office at any given time. It served also to give the Riddler comfort. A life lived looking over your shoulder all the time was something that Edward hated doing. There were dozens of neighboring buildings that could easily make perfect vantage points to anyone with a sniper rifle.
The Riddler knows that to his immediate left, four feet from the floor, was the light switch. His hand reaches over instinctually and flicks it on. As the room illuminated Edward's eyes raise. What he sees freezes his feet in place and causes his mouth to drop with confusion. There, sitting at his desk, slouching in the seat, was the Red Hood. His hands were folded in his lap. The white eyes of his hood were menacing. Edward wonders if the criminal has come to kill him?
"H-how the hell did you get in here?" The Riddler asks. He raises his hands slightly in a gesture of surrender. Sudden movements usually aren't wise when dealing with criminals.
"Through the flaws in your security system," the Red Hood dryly answers. He sits up and leans over the desk, hands still folded.
Ops! Esta imagem não segue as nossas directrizes de conteúdo. Para continuares a publicar, por favor, remova-a ou carrega uma imagem diferente.
