Oswald knew exactly what to say. That's how he got up in the world: telling everyone exactly what they wanted to hear and then stabbing them in the back the second he could get what he wanted from them. He had somewhat recently grown into his new place at the head of crime in the city, and he flaunted that frequently. It had always been clear what kind of a man he was, yet there was a stark difference between that Oz and the one you'd grown accustomed to.

You knew that you were an exception to his rules. He wouldn't take advantage of any weakness, he wouldn't abandon you or hurt you for his gain. You were his prize. There was nothing for him to gain out of your misery.

It was deep into the evening now, and Oswald was coming home far later than he usually did. You weren't an idiot, you knew the kinds of things he did, his status as the 'Kingpin of Gotham' made that clear enough. Despite the moniker, his actions towards you would often leave you wondering if the man in front of you could really be that same monster. Very few times had he let that veil slip in front of you, and he intended it to stay that way. He wanted your love, your affection— he needed that approval so badly it was downright disgusting. Even after he'd finally gotten you, he always wanted more.

"Doll?" He crooned loudly from the entrance to his penthouse. "I was gettin' caught up in some unsavory business, I didn't mean ta leave you here so long..." His thick accent only being drowned out by the loud thud of his lousy leg against the tile floor as he hobbled into the living room— a constant reminder of one of his greatest shames.

"Come on now," His voice was already a bit hungry for your reply, despite just entering. "where ya at? It's been a long night, sweetheart. Tell me somethin' nice."