icebergloungers | High Hopes

"Common interests. You know how it goes, one hand washes the other." He had worked with Jonathan before. He likes would again. He tended to end up regretting it at least seven times out of ten, from outright betrayal to someone being too preoccupied with fear to see a job through or just having to listen to Echo and Query flirt with him and then swoon about his accent later. Still, rogues worked together. Just as rogues messed with each other. That was how it worked and now Harvey was part of them.

"I need his resources, he appreciates the pointers. Profitable partnership, I imagine. He is fascinating. Have you seen him? You know, after." He covered half of his face helpfully with one hand.

"Tactful, Ed." Rolling his eyes, Jonathan got up from his seat and walked through his room, kicking the stuff on the floor out of the way to clear a path so he could pour them both a glass of something. "You fancy some bourbon? I think we're too dry to get into this all proper."

Harvey Dent was fascinating, he couldn't deny it. He'd seen the footage of his incident and it was quite fun. What beautiful screams he had, he would be fun to play with one day. One day. Not yet, too soon. He didn't want to spoil the fun so early in. "Still wet behind the ears, that one. He's only been a rogue for a few months. What has it been now? Six months or so?"

"Roughly. Bit more, but not much." Honestly, he was too impressed with Jonathan for even vaguely keeping track of time to get too pedantic over it. "I'll take that bourbon, if it's any good." He'd also take it if it wasn't all that good. Some talks really weren't meant to be had sober.

"He doesn't want treatment for it, you know? That side of his face, it's a festering wound. I almost poked it." It had been hard to resist the temptation. "I think he likes me. In fact, I think both of them do. Admittedly, I am about to make them a lot of money."

"He'll end up dying from it sooner or later if he doesn't at least get something done. It must hurt horrendously, I can't even imagine." He poured out two glasses and came back over, holding one out to Edward before he flopped into his seat and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. "Shit, acid like that in such a concentrated dose? His skin must have just melted."

Letting out a low whistle, Jonathan took a sip. "Does he definitely have DID? I wasn't sure, given how rare it is and all." Though that did make Harvey all the more intriguing if he did."

"Well, I'm not an expert in the field. Not that most of the wannabes who've tried to therapize me were either, present company excluded." Edward sat up so he could take a sip of bourbon, then he leaned back, crossing his legs and putting his feet up on the coffee table as well. "He definitely seems to be the real deal to me. Different tone of voice, different stance, different expressions. He even seems to have a different level of pain awareness, if I'm any judge, his darker half was much more animated in the... injured area."

It had been fascinating. "Two-Face uses plural first person pronouns. He's rougher around the edges, I'd say."

"That is amazing. Imagine how he'd react to my toxin, I could get a different response and maybe they both have a different f--" He noticed Edward was giving him 'the look' so he cut the fear talk back. Not everything had to be fear, said boring, dullards but whatever. He leaned back and thought over all he knew of Harvey Dent. "Never met the guy, never heard of him until the attack. Only really knew him from that."

He clicked his tongue and tried to think about how to deal with a DID sufferer. "I would be careful with him, exercise caution. He probably has a very warped sense of reality. Probably isn't all in it either, likely how he copes with the horrific pain."

"I assume as much. He's got a temper, he's sensitive to name-calling, does not appreciate face humour. Punched some of the Joker's teeth out, apparently." Or so Harvey had told him and Eddie saw no reason to doubt the claim. Who hadn't wanted to punch the Joker before? A very relatable impulse. "You know the strangest thing about him though?"

Edward frowned, swivelling the bourbon around in his glass and looking at the brown liquid, careful that it wouldn't spill over the edge. "I think he's sweet."

"... What?" Jonathan wasn't overly sure what to say to that because any of their sort, the rogues, the career criminals, the villains of the city, they didn't really tend to be sweet. They could be friends, could be nice to each other but sweet was kind of weird. Kinda creepy. Jonathan pulled out his cigarettes and patted himself down for a light.

"That sort of thing is likely to end up with him getting killed. Not good." He tsked lightly and then pulled free his lighter. "What makes Harvey such a sweetie?"

"When he smokes, rather than be an inconsiderate asshat, he asks first. Whether it bothers me." That was sweet. Jonathan, not sweet at all. Edward spared a withering glare for him, but didn't expect much to come from it. "He blows the smoke in the other direction too. And he's a nervous smoker who isn't in complete denial over his addiction, so there is that too."

Edward raised his glass. "Cheers."

"I'm not in denial, smartass. I'm addicted and I like it. Makes me feel good. Besides, what do I have to fear?" He'd die from everything but cancer at this rate. He inhaled and blew smoke into the air, hoping it spread out and got into Edward's precious lungs. Such a prissy boy. "He asked if his smoking bothered you? That is sweet. Weird though. Someone should warn him about that, people will exploit his good nature."

He held his glass up and smirked at Edward. "I assume that person will be you."

"Oh, who knows? I've been called sweet too." Not that Edward overly felt he was sweet. He knew how to act sweet, he supposed. There was that. He coughed, pointedly, then just focused on his drink and tried to ignore the smoke. Ah, it was the worst. "Yellow teeth. Disgusting coughs. Bad smells." Just a few examples of what else there was to fear.

"So far, I'm just working with him. Things are going well."

"Being an irritating know-it-all also has draw-backs but your not gonna stop any time soon, are you? Let's face it, we all have our vices and we like 'em, even if they fuck us up." If he was going to smoke and wreck his health, that was his business - just like it was Edward's business whether or not he kept on correcting people.

"I would ask what you're planning but I know you won't tell me. All I got to say on it is hat you don't know the guy so watch yourself. Newbies can't be predicted."

Proving Jonathan's point, Edward muttered under his breath. "Y, O, U, apostrophe, R, E." He couldn't just let that pass, so maybe there was something to what Jonathan was saying. Obviously there was, but that didn't change that he'd have to send his clothes to the drycleaner to get the smell out and that he could already feel a headache coming on. Ugh, smoking really did suck.

"I'll learn to predict him, that is one of the many points of the exercises. But it is heart-warming, Jonathan, how you worry for me."

"F, U, C, K space Y, O, U." Jonathan spelled out for him, not sure what he thought he heard but no doubt, it was some pedantic bullshit. Slowly, he inhaled more smoke and blew it out so Edward would no doubt smell of smoke and smell it all the way home too. He loved getting texts from Edward whining about his dry cleaning bill. Oddly satisfying.

"I'm not worried, I'm just reminding you. Someone has to. You always get so excited to join forces, make new friends, do team ups and it always blows up in your face. Present company included." He just felt someone had to tell Edward to stop.

"Always is a gross exaggeration. At times, but that comes with the territory. Either way, this is hardly a team-up in the conventional sense, I don't intend to even be on any job together with him. It will all work remotely." Because he had technology that far outshined anything Luthor Corp could do and while he doubted that Jonathan would care, part of him wished he could get Jervis lucid enough to effectively brag to him about it.

"The only people I team up with are the people under my employ and as long as I can afford them, Echo and Query will remain loyal. They wanted me to extend their greetings, by the way." Well. "Technically they wanted to give you kisses, but you get the gist."

"I do. Those girls are really something, huh?" He raised an eyebrow but didn't linger long on the thought. He wasn't really looking for love, friends or fucking so they held no interest to him but it was awfully funny. He knew how much it bothered Edward that they fawned over him. Nothing annoyed Edward more than people being easily charmed by him and his Georgia ways.

"Well, if I ever need hence girls, think I can lure them away from you." He was only teasing, he felt like Echo and Query were loyal but he liked to have his fun. He even laid on his accent real thick. "Lord have mercy, those girls are sweet."

"What the hell was that, you redneck hick?" Edward might have intended for that to sound insulting, but he was too entertained by the exaggerated accent, so he ended up having to laugh, shaking his head. "See, I should have recorded that, maybe I can use it to lure people into trusting me."

That was the issue, really. Edward knew how to charm people, talk them into things, he was certainly gifted at flirting so people wanted to sleep with him, but there was just nothing as trustworthy as a good old Southern accent. Apparently. "Anyway, I don't think I need to worry about my girls, even so. They follow the green, if you catch my drift, and everyone knows you're raggedy."

"I'm glad I moved to a bigger city, people this side of our great country are so easily charmed by an accent. Some nice southern manners and suddenly everyone is up for listening to you." He didn't have to do much to win people over these days, it was pretty entertaining. Not only was Gotham a perfect fit for his experiments but it was also a place that seemed to love a Georgia boy.

"I don't think I'd ever like henchmen or women or whatever. I don't need them. More people adds more complications. As has been proven in the past, I'm not good with extra people added to my equation." Hence why he always screwed Ed over in the end. It wasn't intentional.

"True, true, Jon-boy, you just aren't that much of a people person and definitely not a team player. But luckily for you, I like you anyway." He winked and leaned forward, mostly to find the bottle. He was feeling entirely too sober still. "The girls just like listening to your voice. I told them that it gets old when you have to listen to it drone on and on about fear or, worse, you have to listen while under fear toxin influence, but they are too charmed. Where's that bourbon? There's your way to charm me."

"Drinks always work better to charm me too. Don't think people do much good at that." Getting to his feet, he walked over and snagged the bottle, setting it down on the coffee table. Dropping back into his chair, he put out his cigarette in the ashtray. Sipping his drink still, he considered everything Edward had told him before frowning, a thought coming to his mind.

"You know, Harvey will be the first rogue I've never given some sort of therapy too. Interesting. Makes him an unpredictable element for me."

"Ah, lucky him. Though he might feel left out. Maybe I ought to gift him a voucher for a free therapy session." That would be the worst present to give anyone. Edward finished pouring his drink and then took a sip. "I got a feeling that he won't find you nearly as charming as my girls do. Although it's fun, he gets oddly phallic with his gun."

He paused, then shrugged. "Or maybe that's just my interpretation, so that may say more about me than about him."

"Sounds like more a you thing. Interesting. Let's talk about it, shall we? What gave Edward Nygma a phallic desire? Shall we talk about your father?" Jonathan trolled, clearly expecting no answer to that besides some swears and more bourbon. He didn't really try to analyse Ed any more. Seemed ultimately a waste of his efforts.

"I do so love our therapy sessions." And with that, Jonathan finished his drink and poured himself another. "To good mental health."

"To good mental health, doc." Edward raised his glass and grinned at his friend. There was maybe no honour among thieves, but he was not quite cynical enough to believe that there was no friendship among rogues. Even if Jonathan would be the first to chastise him for that thought.

High Hopes

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