you weren’t sure how you’d ended up sharing tea with oswald cobblepot at his mansion, much less how it had become a regular thing.

you met him after he had you investigated — which was exactly as flattering as it sounds. apparently, word had gotten to him that you’d talked your way out of a mugging by naming all the falcone lieutenants in alphabetical order. you weren’t connected, not really. just observant. and brave, or foolish enough, to look a man like oswald in the eye and not flinch.

that was months ago.

now, his gloved fingers poured you another cup, dainty and practiced. “jasmine today,” he said with a tiny, satisfied smile. “you like floral. i remember these things.”