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The text message simply said ‘very clever’ . Bruce was sure it was meant sarcastically. The only compliment Oz seem capable of giving him was about Bruce’s looks. Always mentioned in a rather aggressive way, in fact.
Bruce shook his head, deciding to file that under ‘worry about it later’. ‘Usually am.’ Bruce replied. ‘But what instance are you referring to now?’ He asked quickly before Oz could send a snarky reply.
Oswald Cobblepot’s incarceration at Blackgate didn’t last long. He had led a prison riot, and while prison guards were trying to subdue the inmates, Oz disappeared in the chaos.
It took him three months to escape, and that’s only because of his broken leg I’ll bet. Bruce remembered. Oswald had always been good at dodging punishment when they were children. A skill he carried into adulthood apparently.
Less than a week after fleeing custody, Oz began sending Bruce texts. The phone number was never the same, always either a disposable phone or one he had stolen from passerby. Bruce always knew it was Oz though. Mainly because the texts consisted mostly of insults...and strange comments about Bruce’s appearance.
Bruce scratched at the back of his neck as he waited for Oz’s reply.
“I’m sorry Sir ,” The aggravated voice of Ms. Fields (Wayne Industries’ Head of Marketing) reminded Bruce that he was in a meeting. “If I may separate you from Twitter for five more minutes, I’m sure your followers won’t mind.” She sneered. Bruce smiled sheepishly.
“My apologies, do continue.” Bruce acknowledged.
The woman narrowed her eyes at him briefly. As she continued her presentation, Bruce’s phone vibrated. He waited until Ms. Fields was fiddling with the projector to glance at the message.
‘You’re an idiot.’
‘No wonder it was so easy taking your company from you.’
‘You annoying little pretty boy.’
Bruce turned his attention back to the presentation. He didn’t really need to be paying attention, but the haggard look on his PA’s face was enough of a plea. The personal assistant usually got the brunt of complaints whenever the heads of the departments didn’t feel like Bruce was giving them enough of his time (and money for that matter). Oz was still sending rapid fire texts, to the point where everyone in the meeting could hear Bruce’s phone vibrating without pause.
Ms. Fields looked as though she was about to have an aneurysm. Bruce was actually beginning to feel sorry for the woman.
“Sorry, please excuse me for a moment.” Bruce apologized as he removed himself from the room. Damn it Oz, why can’t you send one reasonable sized text instead of every sentence by itself? Bruce grumbled silently. Once he was in the hallway (and away from Ms. Field’s death glare), Bruce opened his phone.
‘I was being sarcastic btw.’
‘About you being clever.’
‘Anyone could’ve figured it out.’
‘You’re not special.’
‘...How DID you know?’
‘I didn’t leave a note.’
‘I wasn’t even in Chicago at the time, I had someone else from there send them.’
Bruce sighed.
‘You should take up meditation or something, and find some freaking calm. The flowers sent to Vicki were Bachelor Buttons (which mean anticipation) and Bird’s Foot Trefoil (which means revenge). That and the freaking bomb planted in my car (RUDE btw), made it ridiculously easy to figure out. Also: when did you get into flowers???’ Bruce asked.
‘Shut up!!!!’
‘You’re easy!’ (“What?” Bruce wondered aloud.)
‘Also Google exists you tit.’
‘Did she like them?’
‘Nevermind that.’
‘Good on you for not having your boyfriend save you this time.’
Okay, now Oz was just trying to give Bruce a headache.
‘My what now?’ Bruce demanded.
‘Batman.’ Oz replied. As if that would clarify things.
‘...So you went from believing Batman was on my payroll, or believing that I’m having sex with him...I don’t know where to begin with that.’ Bruce told him.
‘Well looking at your bank statements didn’t show any suspicious large sums being paid out. I can’t think of another reason why he would go out of his way to protect you and that idiot Dent.’ Holy shit two sentences in one text. Wait.
‘You hacked into my bank account?? God Damnit Oz would you leave my shit alone!!!’
The meeting room door opened and Bruce’s PA poked his head out. The poor man looked as though he aged ten years in just a few minutes.
“Sir? Ms. Fields wants to know if you’re “going to bother returning to the meeting, or should she continue since you don’t give a rat’s ass anyway?” He inquired in a monotone.
“You weren’t supposed to tell him the last part!” Ms. Fields yelled from within the conference room.
“You’re taking notes, right?” Bruce asked the exhausted looking PA.
“...Yes, Sir.” The man replied hesitantly.
“Then continue without me, I’ll read the notes later,” Bruce ordered. The brief look of fear that flashed across his PA’s face made Bruce pause. “Sorry Daven. I’ll make it up to you as soon as possible, alright?”
“...I want tickets to the next Gotham Knights game.” The PA, Daven, requested.
“I’ll get you the best seats in the stadium,” Bruce promised. Daven slipped back into the meeting, quietly closing the door behind him. Bruce looked back at his phone.
‘No.’ Was the only reply Oz gave him.
‘Whatever. Look, I’m not dating Batman ok? We just...close’ Bruce tried to explain.
‘So you’re fuck buddies. Got it.’ Oz replied immediately.
‘Christ! NO OZ!! It is physically impossible for me to date Batman!’ Bruce typed out quickly in a fit of annoyance. He meant to delete it, realizing that it would reveal too much.
Bruce hit send by mistake. “Shit!” he cursed. There was a long pause from Oz’s end.
‘He’s not your type then?’ Oz asked. Bruce choked on his own laughter. This was getting ridiculous.
‘Yeah, you could say that.’ Bruce replied. Oz did not text him back for the rest of the day.