[Some small but stubbornly resilient part of him expects to be laughed at, to hear an off-colour soap joke reminding him of how small and weak he can be without his guns, his men. But what he gets humbles him; all the support he had needed behind bars, lying in bed and crawling into a far corner of his mind when it was too dark to read, waiting for the hours to pass. He's quiet a while, contemplating Ed with a soft, tired look. His eye gleams as it catches the light.]

Well, I'm hardly a leading authority on romantic love - I've never even been in a relationship. [He chokes out a mocking laugh.] When the only people attempting to seduce you are your own stepsister and Sofia Falcone, it kinda says something. ...And I won't pretend that my reasons for being alone are a mystery to me.

[He sniffs, his lips pinching as he looks Ed over. What his parents offered him is his only frame of reference but it's sad to think Ed may not even know that much.]

I have seen how easy it can be to fall for the illusion of what one imagines love to be like, or the idea of love itself. [A furrow appears between his brows, as if all this is only just occurring to him.] I was so... consumed by my own loneliness, I did not stop to consider whether you truly wanted me at all. I suppose I didn't really care so long as I had someone for myself. ...But you were right. [Swallowing.] Not only that, but I believe that you know more about love than you realize.

[A beat.]

You, Edward Nygma, against every logic-driven fibre of your being, gave up that submarine and the perfect escape to join me in the fight for this city - you made this choice with the knowledge that you might not have come out of it alive. And if that is not love, then... [he tosses his hands helplessly, smiling] ...I guess I have no idea what I'm talking about.