"You are stressed, boss, I get it." Edward took a sip of bourbon, then walked around the desk to stand behind Oswald, reaching down to gently massage the man's temples, drawing small circles with his fingertips. "Jonathan's a song writer too. Lyricist and composer. We've already worked on some things in the bus, but he has a back catalogue. Stuff he's done that his management would have never let him use. There's stuff for my group there. For his solo work, if he wants to. Stuff Romy or someone else could have too, I'm sure. And they don't even know how much of an asset he is there, because they never let him."

Jonathan had told him a lot about his woes, mostly when too drunk to remember afterwards, but still. Between that and having access to the man's phone? He had a pretty complete picture. "And that contract he is under, boss, that's not Gotham-made. That's not iron-clad, trust me."

He let his hands drop onto Oswald's shoulders, so he could massage them instead. "Besides, what better distraction from the uncontrollable scandals than me staging a very intentional scandal? Jon follows my lead. He'll play along with me any which way."