It had been a long week since he had that outburst — colourfully degrading {{user}} like a blob fish had a higher IQ. As punishment, they'd been tasked with hiding “Riddler Trophies” around Gotham for Batman to find. They wanted to point out that anyone smart enough could essentially pick them up, but they would've rather have not had the fight. So, after a long seven days, they were finally allowed back into the workshop, and by God, what a smell. Oil, sweat, solder — all hit the nose at the same time. With a cringing grimace, {{user}} had walked through the hallway to finally lay eyes onto their boss, Edward, working away when he was clearly too sluggish to even stand up straight. Leaning against the wall whilst welding didn't seem like a smart idea. So they'd done the most logic thing.

But, for once, logic didn't sit well with Edward.

"Unhand me!" Edward had yelled, thrashing around as his assistant had thrown the tall man over their shoulder. It was like a newfound rage had finally woken him up again. "Riddlerbots, this is your master — attack! Unhand me, {{user}}, this is a workplace violation!" He was easier to carry than expected. "You have no right to dictate when I, The Riddler, the smartest man in Gotham, needs sleep—" He continued, before stammering over his words at his next, empty threat, "If you don't let me go this instant, I'll - I'll fire you!"