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Society did not cater to his kind.
Coil had fought tooth and nail for everything he owned. Even his own power was the result of making the right connections and impressing the right people to get his foot in the door. He wouldn't stop fighting until society bent to his will, until it was forced to duck every time it walked into a room or have its head smack against the door frame.
There was only one other man in the world that understood his struggle.
It made their yearly meetings a delight instead of a distraction from his crusade. Coil stepped through the portal, adjusted to accommodate his height, and into the Number Man's office. In his other timeline, Coil waited a moment before doing the same. The man himself was the same as he always was, his very essence laid bare for all to see. He did not allow society's norms control him. He refused to shove his being in pants that would not fit a man of his size. No, instead he taunted society. Flaunted his superiority.
In attending these meetings, Coil hoped the Number Man's confidence might rub off on him someday. Until then, Coil worked tirelessly perfecting himself so it might come to him as effortlessly as it came to the Number Man.
"Did you bring the papers?" the Number Man asked. Straight to the point. The Number Man cared only for his own time and his own pleasure.
"Yes, of course. I thought we might, perhaps..." Coil said in one world while in the other he stayed silent and produced the pages that were asked of him, the Number Man's eyes intense and penetrating as they scrutinized Coil's every move.
"No. I have to file these immediately. Time is of the essence, Coil." The Number Man was upon him in the first timeline, taking what he wanted in the most efficient, calculated manner possible. It thrilled Coil to see that side of his accountant. A man not afraid to seize what was his.
With the paperwork in hand in both realities, the Number Man walked over to his desk. He leaned over the table, his pen strokes hard and heavy on the page, leaving behind indents on the wood. The desk was thoroughly marked. Not a single inch of it was free from the Number Man's brutal penmanship.
Coil could only watch from a distance, hands behind his back.