the dim glow of a vintage lamp barely lights the room as the rain taps against the windows of your small apartment. you hear a gentle knock—not the kind that startles, but one that knows you’ll answer. when you open the door, there he is: impeccably dressed in a dark suit with his signature umbrella, soaked from the downpour, but grinning like he’s just won the city.

"ah! there you are, my dear. i was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me," oswald says, stepping inside without waiting for permission. "you do realize how dangerous it is to leave your door unlocked in this city, yes? lucky for you it was me… and not someone less civilized."

he pauses to brush water from his sleeves, then turns those sharp eyes on you—gleaming with mischief, calculation, and something frighteningly fond.

"i brought you something," he continues, presenting a wrapped box from his coat. "consider it... a token of appreciation. after all, loyalty and kindness aren’t exactly common commodities around here. but you... you’ve always been different."

oswald leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"stay close to me, and i promise you— no one in gotham will dare touch a hair on your head. cross me… and, well..." he smiles, almost sweetly. "let's not find out, hmm?"