Chapter Text
The LED sleigh bells chimed in a repetitive sound as the reindeer legs blinked to emulate running. It ought to be festive, but to Edward it felt glaring and monotonous. As if Gotham City needed more lights and sounds. If there was a Santa Claus, he would probably opt to pass the city up entirely for the garish display alone.
Edward sipped his coffee. It was a perfect blend of gingerbread spices and caffeine that he wanted on a snowy late afternoon. When he worked in California, it was his winter treat on the way to his morning job. He never imagined years later it would bring him such comfort, but then again, he never imagined being in and out of Arkham Asylum. Or that they would give him a clean bill of health. He ought to be glad to escape the padded confines of the asylum. And yet…
He sipped again, hoping to push away the thoughts that tried to climb into his skull. There was something upsetting about standing in the bustling Gotham Square amid the Christmas rush and being unknown. Nobody stared at him. Nobody even noticed him, bundled up in black clothes instead of his preferred green, leaning against an old brick building that was likely going to be ripped down in a few years, replaced with something shiny and new. And with an unaffordable rental price. People walked by him carrying packages, barely paying any mind.
But he was the Riddler! He wanted to scream; demand they turn their heads to acknowledge him.
“Not anymore, old chum,” he whispered to himself, exhaling a cloud of air over the lid of his coffee. He wasn’t anyone now, just another jobless denizen with a brain too big for any entry level position and an ego too battered and bruised for a simple nobody.
He had hoped coming here would lighten his mood, but he had already timed the seconds for the holiday decor, saw three ridiculously easy ways to steal money for his new life (which was difficult to resist), and watched the sun sink behind the skyscrapers, bringing the city into an early evening. And he had only been standing here for half an hour.
Boredom had always been his worst enemy, and now it threatened to take his very home. He had been fired for three jobs in the past two months, even one given to him as a charity case by Gotham’s favorite billionaire. He couldn’t take orders well, he found corruption too easily, he couldn’t look the other way when shady business happened under the table, and worst of all, he had a rap sheet to boot. After the fiasco with the toy company, he no longer could partner with a business, either. And to create his own, well, what was he supposed to sell, puzzle books to children? A tell-all novel of his shitty life? No, he was too brilliant to not see the inevitable.
Edward Nygma was not employable. The roof over his head would disappear, and the food in his meager refrigerator would soon run out. Luxuries like this stupid coffee would be out of his reach for good.
His eyes teared up. He sniffed and wiped them away in annoyance. Crying about it did nothing. The outside world didn’t care about how hard he worked or what he did to get his previous clean bill of health. All they cared about was if he would make money for the good city of Gotham. What a load of—
“Edward?”
He glanced over to see a large black umbrella littered with snow. Beneath it was a squat man with an incredibly long nose and a single monocle.
“Oswald?” he gasped.
“My good fellow! How wonderful to see you!”
They shook hands heartily, and Edward’s mind went into a million directions at once. Why was Oswald in Gotham Square of all places where anyone could see him? Not to mention the Batman?
“But why are you—”
Oswald interrupted him by holding out a few grocery bags. “I was just fetching a few perishables for myself. Would you mind joining me on my way home?”
Perplexed but resigning himself, he took a couple of bags in his free hand and followed beside him. “Alright,” he muttered. “But can you at least tell me why you’re out here and not… elsewhere?”
“Can’t a person simply enjoy the festivities? Come no, Edward, there’s no need to ask everything that comes to your pin-feathered mind. You look like you need a good conversationalist and I happen to be the best. So do try to keep up. I’m afraid it’s a little too cold for my taste, even for this old bird.”
Edward pursed his lips and quickened his pace to keep up with him. In truth, he was glad to see a friend. He hadn’t realized he missed seeing anyone from the rogues until Penguin appeared. Perhaps there was more luck for him in the world than he sometimes believed.