Oswald pulled the car around, putting it into park just in front of the building. He glanced through the window as he got out, noticing the reporters trying to talk to his employer. He frowned as he waddled around the car, pulling open the door for them.

“Hey, hey, back off, they don’ wanna talk,” he scoffed with a wave of his hand, shooing them.

“No one asked you, penguin,” one snapped, irritated at the lack of response from the important Falcone. He frowned at the nickname. He’d never escape it, would he? He shut the door and got into the front seat, putting it into drive.