How about the roof? You know, The roof? I'll catch you if you fall off, promise! [ he dissolves into devious giggles ]
Some fresh air couldn't kill you, either. Oh! I'll bring a picnic blanket, and games! Who do think can solve a rubix cube faster, you or me? [ an absolutely loaded question and he knows it ]
Maybe, but you know I'll give you a run for your money buddy~
---
To say John Doe is happy would be a grandiose understatement. In all likelihood something someone knows that recent events ( arrivals ) could throw things into absolute disarray, but that's not what he's choosing to dwell on, actively. What's there to be worried about anyway? Nothing's better than more and more friends!
He's waiting on the ledge of the roof, his comical picnic basket tucked safely aside. He's in his civi clothes but he does have his grappling hook, because that's so much fancier than stairs.
He's not quite buzzing, having already made his way through an iced capachino, he meticulously scans the surrounding streets in near to giddy anticipation for his buddy's ( buddies ) arrival. He's also gonna have to make a conscious effort to quit rolling his shiny new tongue ring against his lip, because it seems way more fun to see how long it'll take his dear pals to notice.
He perks up like a damn meerkat when he thinks he sees a familiar silhouette, wringing his hands together in a tick of restless delight.
"There you are! Heya guys! Up here!! I've been waiting!" the intensity of that grin is more than enough to unnerve most people, but these guys are not most people at all. His smile is completely manic as he waves excitedly from his spot.
"Can I give ya a hand up? All the good stuff is up here with me!"
Riddler heads out with his emerald green coat and his modified cane. He doesn't rush, because he never rushes with John, never lets that fragment of Ed that wants and craves attention take over and hurry things. If he's ever too eager, he knows John's attention will wane.
When he reaches the building, he looks up, already expecting that he'll be offered a lift up to the roof. How else would they do this?
"Of course." He offers up the hand not holding the cane.
Aw, all dolled up and everything! His foot taps the ground with restless jubilation for a moment before he all too casually steps off the roof, like he's got a damn flying carpet waiting for him. Of course he doesn't, and he waits until the absolute last moment to fire his grapple-gun. The snapping teeth bite the ledge and halt gravity's pull, and John makes only a soft 'oof' at the likely painful strain to his arms. Meh, he barely notices anyway.
He's hanging just low enough to reach Riddler's hand, which he grasps tightly with an absolutely euphoric Cheshire panther grin.
"Gotcha!" he pulls Riddler as he hits the trigger, drawing the other man closer to him (as opposed to hanging beneath him) for the quick trip up. The momentum carries them both an easy foot above the ledge, making it simple and effortless to land solidly on their feet.
"Hey! Good to see ya!" here, have a brief but very tight, very enthusiastic hug. He pulls back just as quick as he pounced, adapting a slight air of sheepishness. "You're welcome for the lift, by the way." Cue a few skewed giggles.
Riddler is completely unworried by the plummet and when John catches his hand and pulls, Riddler wraps his arm around John's neck to help secure himself.
When they land, he lets go, only to be hugged tightly. He lets it happen, then fixes his glasses again. "Well, I wasn't climbing. Always one of the worst parts of high school gym."
No need to fret, John's a professional. Okay maybe not, but he is too smart to needlessly splatter himself on the pavement; unlike some murder-happy vigilantes in the universe of an opposing franchise, he doesn't have fancy regeneration powers to rely on. It's not hard it's just basic physics and geometry. Reckless? No! It's just time efficient, and so happens to be fun, too! Being held on to is totally not a huge deciding factor, either.
"You could have used your cane you know, if you didn't change it up like that," he tease is completely superficial and without offense; he's absolutely just being pesky because he can and he's just so happy.
"But I guess it's not big deal; maybe you just want an excuse to give me a big cuddle," he snickers at the absurdity of his friendly mocking and strolls casually over to the shamrock-green picnic blanket he's spread out over the concrete of the roof. He melts into a cross-legged posture, elbows on his knees and chin in his palms as he gazes adoringly at his beloved companion.
"So, how you been! What's the sitch? Sit down next to me and tell me everything!" he doesn't specifically mention Oswald because obviously that's a potentially delicate matter, but also, he's here for all the juicy gossip and he's come prepared with a stock of protective wrath, just in case it's needed.
Riddler lowers himself down, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands to look out over the buildings around them. "I might need a drink to start unravelling that. Simply put, he's Oswald from my Gotham, but... he's from five or six months further ahead than me. And when we met him, he seemed ready to try and stab me. He ate only when he was assured it wasn't poisoned and only managed to sleep when he could lock himself in my room and was gone when I woke up. Ed is... upset."
"Sure, sure! Lemme see what I grabbed," without looking John reaches backwards and hauls his cartoonish looking picnic basket in front of him so he can flip open the lid and paw through the mysterious stash.
He pauses though as Riddler continues to explain, jaw dropping open beneath saucer-wide eyes.
"Something Serious must have happened," a ludicrously easy deduction; after all, the same kind of emotional disaster had happened to him and Harley, him and Bruce, like Gothamites are cursed to have miserable chaotic love lives. What the hell, even? He winces with an imitation of empathy that's rather perfect, and probably hides some strange mutation of the feeling beneath.
"I'm guessing he didn't give you many straight answers either," he sinks into cutting calculation, forgetting his search for a few moments. He fishes out a can of fizzy green apple martini and brings it with him as he clumsily shuffles closer, and deposits the drink into his buddy's hand.
"... at least he didn't try to kill you, that's something!" sadly sincere, because by the standards of his own relationships, that is a big plus. "Hey, don't be so blue. A bunch of smart guys like us? We'll figure it out, you can bet on it." He leans to the side, playfully nudging his shoulder against his companion's. "You and me, and me and you. We'll get all the answers."
Riddler hums and doesn't look, still watching the city. "We didn't ask. Oswald... is like a non-Newtonian fluid. The more you push, the less far you get. You just let him do it at his own pace."
Oswald will tell him. When he can't take not sharing it. Oswald loves sharing a good secret at the right time.
Riddler takes the drink, looks at it and looks at John. His expression clearly says "Really? Really?" though he stays silent on the subject of the drink for now.
"No, but he expects me to try and murder him. Which is not great."
"Oohh, so it's a waiting game, is it? You do know him best, hmmm..." he continues to listen with an uncommon look of pointed concentration and lucidity. Secrets, eh? Something to use there, maybe...
"What if... you had a secret, too? A big one? Just thinkin' out loud here... but you think maybe he'd crack quicker if you had something on the down low, too?" his fingers strum along the angular line of this chin; it's just a thought, while he has met Oswald, the guy's not easy to get a read on. He seemed... emotional, fidgety, like he was trying to play cool but flipping his burgers inside. Unpredictable. John respects that; he's just not sure what to do with it yet. Maybe if he could just try and push the guy off a roof or something...
Riddler's expression in response to the drink only earns him and extremely eager and overtly proud smile in response; the glee in his grin shuts his eyes and he flashes a friendly and affirmative thumbs up.
"Eventually he's gonna realize that's not true; you don't gotta do anything about that for it to change at some point... but who likes the boring ol' senic route, anyway?" his buddies are upset here, as much as Oswald is probably ( hopefully ) smart enough to figure that much out, John doesn't exactly wanna loaf around waiting for that to happen, either.
That's not how Oswald works and it's not how they work. Riddler hates secrets, because he likes bragging a lot. Oswald might be provoked into sharing with bribery or coercion, but it will plant resentment and no one can hold a grudge quite like Oswald can. Riddler's revenge is complicated, but not usually overly delayed.
Oswald, he suspects, will wait years if he has to to avenge his mother's murder. And will savour every moment.
"He knows it. But he doesn't, ugh, feel it yet." Feelings. Disgusting. "We're going to the Rubies party, him and me, with my friends Cinder to escort us. The Rubies are very pro marked, but also female dominated. It seems safer to be able to claim spoken for." Or something like that.
John shrugs casually when his idea is discarded; he was just spit-balling, and obviously Riddler's got a far better read on things than he does.
"You guys being, well.... you guys, I probably couldn't think of anything you didn't come up with first... probably," that is to say he's not going to quit puzzling about it. He wants to help. It's almost, almost like he needs to.
A briefly disgusted wince crosses his face in a mirror of Riddler's distaste, because yeah, feelings. A long sigh deflates him and he melts backwards like a liquid until he catches himself on his elbows. His head rolls back with a frustrated, petulant groan and he mutters "I hate waiting." As though to say it's something Riddler and Eddie ( and thus John, vicariously ) are all going to have to endure.
"Unless you got some genius plan? And, hey-- it's probably a good sign that he's willing to see you again, right? And what'dya mean 'spoken for'?" because who doesn't entertain multiple trains of thought at once? Certainly not this guy.
"Oswald will move at his own pace. He always has. There's no point pressing, he'll just get irritible and he still has my switchblade." And while Riddler is quite capable of ignoring pain, he'd rather not have to. And Ed is not so inured to it.
"Spoken for... oh the Rubies are very Submissive dominated and female dominated. A party like this? Best to come with company and Cinders has business with them anyway. Oswald wants to meet the Madame, and I'm just curious."
"So you gotta wait, meaning I gotta wait, vicariously. Doesn't he know how rude that is?" considering his odd psychosis surrounding behavior he perceives as rude, it's a rather tepid statement; honest, shallow irritation, sparse exasperation, largely a teasing sentiment.
"Wait, he took your knife?" give him like two point five seconds to clamp down on that small spike of irritation. Excuse me, John did that first, thank you. He covers his mouth for a few unnecessary coughs, using the brief stolen moments to correct his tone and expression. "You want me to get it back for ya, buddy? Or was it some kinda romantic gesture?" he wiggles his eyebrows and his grin shifts sharply towards teasingly approving and affectionately pestering. Hey, he doesn't wanna step on any toes, okay? Playing with another guy's knife can mean things!
"Hold on--" as one train of thought comes crashing into the other he interrupts himself, squinting glance shifting side to side as he holds his hand with his palm flat beside his mouth, as though passing some delicate information. "So you're like... pretending it's a date? Or is it a real date? With Cinders, or Oswald, or both?" Riddler might be able to guess John had something caffeinated before he showed up; there's sweet coffee on his breath if the pelting of questions isn't enough of a clue. He's also. Bouncing a bit in his spot. Probably because of the caffine, but also, who doesn't get jazzed sharing such juicy gossip? Oh Riddler, oh Eddie, what heart breakers!
"Well... I knew he took it. He was wearing my coat, the knife was in the pocket, he was completely unarmed, I wasn't going to make him wander about without a knife to his name." Oswald didn't ask, but Ed had offered to let him hang onto it until he felt more secure and Riddler... wasn't that invested in the knife to care. "It wasn't romantic, but a... display of trust and solidarity. Being here, having this mark?" He traces his own mark with a fingertip. "It's demoralising. Humiliating, especially for someone like Oswald. People have made assumptions about him, because he's small, because they think of him as effeminate, because he's delicate looking... this is another unwanted millstone."
Riddler snorts and unthinkingly takes a drink of the can, pulling a face. "I can't decide if that's brilliant or terrible. And no, not a pretend date. Or a real one. More like... socially expected plus one."
He's either masterfully hiding his jealousy now, or he's so far in denial about it that it may as well not exist. If he can fanboy over Bruce and Catwoman, he can totally fanboy over this ship, too. And besides that, the logic is so sound and reasonable that a ( secretly ) smart guy like John can't bring himself to be too upset about it. It's fine, everything's good, so what if Oz took Riddler's coat? Those explanations were all perfectly good and sound and... good.
"Right, yeah... that," he agrees, slightly awkward. "Well, hey... any buddy of yours, and all that stuff. If I can do something, ya just gotta say so," and John is a murderous little psycho but he does mean that honestly. This city doesn't even try to hide how unjust it is, so he's more willing ( reckless, even) in offering his help to any poor soul ( brave enough to approach him ) with a Sub tattoo. Especially rivals new friends.
"Ooooh okay, okay, I get it... it's a secret date," the devilishness of his grin and the following eerie chuckles underline the jest; he understands ( probably? ) he's just pretending not to, because hijinks. It's a pretty convincing idiot act though, and he doesn't often demonstrate his skill at putting it on and taking it off at whim but, these are his dearest buddies, after all. They already get it. "Are you gonna bring flowers? Chocolates? Better not show up empty handed, that's just impolite."
He just so happens to shift to get comfortable with his basket of mysteries atop his lap. Obviously just a random, thoughtless motion.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2020-06-04 02:11 am (UTC)...
How about the roof? You know, The roof? I'll catch you if you fall off, promise! [ he dissolves into devious giggles ]
Some fresh air couldn't kill you, either. Oh! I'll bring a picnic blanket, and games! Who do think can solve a rubix cube faster, you or me? [ an absolutely loaded question and he knows it ]
no subject
Date: 2020-06-04 02:22 am (UTC)Yeah, I'll meet you there.
And it will be me.
[ It might not be at first, but he's competitive. ]
Action---->
Date: 2020-06-04 07:17 pm (UTC)Maybe, but you know I'll give you a run for your money buddy~
---
To say John Doe is happy would be a grandiose understatement. In all likelihood something
someoneknows that recent events ( arrivals ) could throw things into absolute disarray, but that's not what he's choosing to dwell on, actively. What's there to be worried about anyway? Nothing's better than more and more friends!He's waiting on the ledge of the roof, his comical picnic basket tucked safely aside. He's in his civi clothes but he does have his grappling hook, because that's so much fancier than stairs.
He's not quite buzzing, having already made his way through an iced capachino, he meticulously scans the surrounding streets in near to giddy anticipation for his buddy's ( buddies ) arrival. He's also gonna have to make a conscious effort to quit rolling his shiny new tongue ring against his lip, because it seems way more fun to see how long it'll take his dear pals to notice.
He perks up like a damn meerkat when he thinks he sees a familiar silhouette, wringing his hands together in a tick of restless delight.
"There you are! Heya guys! Up here!! I've been waiting!" the intensity of that grin is more than enough to unnerve most people, but these guys are not most people at all. His smile is completely manic as he waves excitedly from his spot.
"Can I give ya a hand up? All the good stuff is up here with me!"
no subject
Date: 2020-06-05 12:53 pm (UTC)When he reaches the building, he looks up, already expecting that he'll be offered a lift up to the roof. How else would they do this?
"Of course." He offers up the hand not holding the cane.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-06 10:51 pm (UTC)He's hanging just low enough to reach Riddler's hand, which he grasps tightly with an absolutely euphoric Cheshire panther grin.
"Gotcha!" he pulls Riddler as he hits the trigger, drawing the other man closer to him (as opposed to hanging beneath him) for the quick trip up. The momentum carries them both an easy foot above the ledge, making it simple and effortless to land solidly on their feet.
"Hey! Good to see ya!" here, have a brief but very tight, very enthusiastic hug. He pulls back just as quick as he pounced, adapting a slight air of sheepishness. "You're welcome for the lift, by the way." Cue a few skewed giggles.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-07 12:52 pm (UTC)When they land, he lets go, only to be hugged tightly. He lets it happen, then fixes his glasses again. "Well, I wasn't climbing. Always one of the worst parts of high school gym."
no subject
Date: 2020-06-15 11:12 pm (UTC)"You could have used your cane you know, if you didn't change it up like that," he tease is completely superficial and without offense; he's absolutely just being pesky because he can and he's just so happy.
"But I guess it's not big deal; maybe you just want an excuse to give me a big cuddle," he snickers at the absurdity of his friendly mocking and strolls casually over to the shamrock-green picnic blanket he's spread out over the concrete of the roof. He melts into a cross-legged posture, elbows on his knees and chin in his palms as he gazes adoringly at his beloved companion.
"So, how you been! What's the sitch? Sit down next to me and tell me everything!" he doesn't specifically mention Oswald because obviously that's a potentially delicate matter, but also, he's here for all the juicy gossip and he's come prepared with a stock of protective wrath, just in case it's needed.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-16 03:08 am (UTC)Riddler lowers himself down, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands to look out over the buildings around them. "I might need a drink to start unravelling that. Simply put, he's Oswald from my Gotham, but... he's from five or six months further ahead than me. And when we met him, he seemed ready to try and stab me. He ate only when he was assured it wasn't poisoned and only managed to sleep when he could lock himself in my room and was gone when I woke up. Ed is... upset."
no subject
Date: 2020-06-16 07:26 pm (UTC)He pauses though as Riddler continues to explain, jaw dropping open beneath saucer-wide eyes.
"Something Serious must have happened," a ludicrously easy deduction; after all, the same kind of emotional disaster had happened to him and Harley, him and Bruce, like Gothamites are cursed to have miserable chaotic love lives. What the hell, even? He winces with an imitation of empathy that's rather perfect, and probably hides some strange mutation of the feeling beneath.
"I'm guessing he didn't give you many straight answers either," he sinks into cutting calculation, forgetting his search for a few moments. He fishes out a can of fizzy green apple martini and brings it with him as he clumsily shuffles closer, and deposits the drink into his buddy's hand.
"... at least he didn't try to kill you, that's something!" sadly sincere, because by the standards of his own relationships, that is a big plus. "Hey, don't be so blue. A bunch of smart guys like us? We'll figure it out, you can bet on it." He leans to the side, playfully nudging his shoulder against his companion's. "You and me, and me and you. We'll get all the answers."
no subject
Date: 2020-06-17 08:31 am (UTC)Oswald will tell him. When he can't take not sharing it. Oswald loves sharing a good secret at the right time.
Riddler takes the drink, looks at it and looks at John. His expression clearly says "Really? Really?" though he stays silent on the subject of the drink for now.
"No, but he expects me to try and murder him. Which is not great."
no subject
Date: 2020-06-18 02:15 am (UTC)"What if... you had a secret, too? A big one? Just thinkin' out loud here... but you think maybe he'd crack quicker if you had something on the down low, too?" his fingers strum along the angular line of this chin; it's just a thought, while he has met Oswald, the guy's not easy to get a read on. He seemed... emotional, fidgety, like he was trying to play cool but flipping his burgers inside. Unpredictable. John respects that; he's just not sure what to do with it yet. Maybe if he could just try and push the guy off a roof or something...
Riddler's expression in response to the drink only earns him and extremely eager and overtly proud smile in response; the glee in his grin shuts his eyes and he flashes a friendly and affirmative thumbs up.
"Eventually he's gonna realize that's not true; you don't gotta do anything about that for it to change at some point... but who likes the boring ol' senic route, anyway?" his buddies are upset here, as much as Oswald is probably ( hopefully ) smart enough to figure that much out, John doesn't exactly wanna loaf around waiting for that to happen, either.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-18 02:02 pm (UTC)That's not how Oswald works and it's not how they work. Riddler hates secrets, because he likes bragging a lot. Oswald might be provoked into sharing with bribery or coercion, but it will plant resentment and no one can hold a grudge quite like Oswald can. Riddler's revenge is complicated, but not usually overly delayed.
Oswald, he suspects, will wait years if he has to to avenge his mother's murder. And will savour every moment.
"He knows it. But he doesn't, ugh, feel it yet." Feelings. Disgusting. "We're going to the Rubies party, him and me, with my friends Cinder to escort us. The Rubies are very pro marked, but also female dominated. It seems safer to be able to claim spoken for." Or something like that.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-18 08:59 pm (UTC)"You guys being, well.... you guys, I probably couldn't think of anything you didn't come up with first... probably," that is to say he's not going to quit puzzling about it. He wants to help. It's almost, almost like he needs to.
A briefly disgusted wince crosses his face in a mirror of Riddler's distaste, because yeah, feelings. A long sigh deflates him and he melts backwards like a liquid until he catches himself on his elbows. His head rolls back with a frustrated, petulant groan and he mutters "I hate waiting." As though to say it's something Riddler and Eddie ( and thus John, vicariously ) are all going to have to endure.
"Unless you got some genius plan? And, hey-- it's probably a good sign that he's willing to see you again, right? And what'dya mean 'spoken for'?" because who doesn't entertain multiple trains of thought at once? Certainly not this guy.
no subject
Date: 2020-06-24 04:23 am (UTC)"Spoken for... oh the Rubies are very Submissive dominated and female dominated. A party like this? Best to come with company and Cinders has business with them anyway. Oswald wants to meet the Madame, and I'm just curious."
no subject
Date: 2020-06-27 04:02 am (UTC)"Wait, he took your knife?" give him like two point five seconds to clamp down on that small spike of irritation. Excuse me, John did that first, thank you. He covers his mouth for a few unnecessary coughs, using the brief stolen moments to correct his tone and expression. "You want me to get it back for ya, buddy? Or was it some kinda romantic gesture?" he wiggles his eyebrows and his grin shifts sharply towards teasingly approving and affectionately pestering. Hey, he doesn't wanna step on any toes, okay? Playing with another guy's knife can mean things!
"Hold on--" as one train of thought comes crashing into the other he interrupts himself, squinting glance shifting side to side as he holds his hand with his palm flat beside his mouth, as though passing some delicate information. "So you're like... pretending it's a date? Or is it a real date? With Cinders, or Oswald, or both?" Riddler might be able to guess John had something caffeinated before he showed up; there's sweet coffee on his breath if the pelting of questions isn't enough of a clue. He's also. Bouncing a bit in his spot. Probably because of the caffine, but also, who doesn't get jazzed sharing such juicy gossip? Oh Riddler, oh Eddie, what heart breakers!
no subject
Date: 2020-06-28 10:27 am (UTC)Riddler snorts and unthinkingly takes a drink of the can, pulling a face. "I can't decide if that's brilliant or terrible. And no, not a pretend date. Or a real one. More like... socially expected plus one."
no subject
Date: 2020-07-01 01:05 am (UTC)"Right, yeah... that," he agrees, slightly awkward. "Well, hey... any buddy of yours, and all that stuff. If I can do something, ya just gotta say so," and John is a murderous little psycho but he does mean that honestly. This city doesn't even try to hide how unjust it is, so he's more willing ( reckless, even) in offering his help to any poor soul ( brave enough to approach him ) with a Sub tattoo. Especially
rivalsnew friends."Ooooh okay, okay, I get it... it's a secret date," the devilishness of his grin and the following eerie chuckles underline the jest; he understands ( probably? ) he's just pretending not to, because hijinks. It's a pretty convincing idiot act though, and he doesn't often demonstrate his skill at putting it on and taking it off at whim but, these are his dearest buddies, after all. They already get it. "Are you gonna bring flowers? Chocolates? Better not show up empty handed, that's just impolite."
He just so happens to shift to get comfortable with his basket of mysteries atop his lap. Obviously just a random, thoughtless motion.