step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

The move told Edward Nygma everything.

“I knew it!” Riddler cried out, all talk of Penguin completely forgotten as he glared at the man across from him. “When you inquired about my ability to play earlier, I suppose I should have phrased it as ‘COULD you play’ rather than ‘would’. You can’t just move your pieces about all willy nilly-- there are RULES to the game, you oaf!”

Ragdoll gave an exaggerated pout.

“Aww, but your hat loving pal let me do whatever I wanted last time we played. He seemed to liiiike it.”

“One, need I remind you that Tetch ISN’T my friend-- he’s a colleague. And two,” Here the Prince of Puzzles paused, his air for dramatics forcing the other rogue to hold onto his every word. He looked down at the nimble nitwit with disdain. “Don’t confuse being desperate for affection-- you of all people should know that. Tetch will put up with anything just so he won’t be forced alone with his thoughts. I, however, expect more from an opponent. So shut up, sit up, and perhaps you’ll actually learn something for once in your life.”

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

“Leaving the poor man high and dry with no one to pick up the slack but little old me? Edward Nygma, you are a cruel, cruel man.” Merkel tutted and shook his head, and then reached out to mirror the opponent’s last move. This time, however, he glanced up and smirked at him knowingly from across the table. He’d been civil for long enough, it was simply in his nature to see how far he could push people before they snapped.

“Your move.” He sang, nonchalantly.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

It was Nygma’s turn to frown-- not only from Ragdoll’s commentary, but from his playing as well. So far the man had simply been mirror with an exception of one off. Mirroring itself was pretty commonplace, as things like ‘the Four Knights Openings’ existed. This, however, was nothing like that strategy, and if anything resembled a poor mans attempt at ‘monkey see monkey do’.  Riddler had a theory, and he was willing to test it as he had his rook move to F3. 

“By all means, choke the man yourself. It was quite therapeutic, if you want my HONEST opinion.” It was while saying this the redhead found the corner of his lips quirking in amusement. Although, it didn’t last long as his mood sobered-- his expression hardening. “You’ll be happy to note I don’t plan on pulling that stunt again anytime soon. Be it for me to ruin the good thing between the two of you-- Cobblepot simply isn’t worth the trouble.”

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

Peter Merkel hadn’t bothered attempting to chat up Oswald, mostly due to the fact he was talking with Scarface. That weird little doll gave him the creeps! And so, he’d continued to sit alone, and think his thoughts.

He had tired of that quickly, but luckily, opportunity happened to walk right through the door, and seat himself at the chess table. In a flash, the contortionist was up and slipping into the seat across from Edward, grinning at him from over the table.

“Hiiii there.” He twiddled his fingers in a sort of wave. “Edward Nygma I haven’t seen you in days! I thought for sure you’d flown the coop again. But here you are, and just in time! Do you play?” He gestured to the board.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

Nygma scoffed, moving his rook to H3.

“I hardly see how that’s my problem. I can’t control what comes out from another, especially when I’m out of commission.” 

Not that Riddler expected the one he attacked to be over it by now, he supposed. Still, despite his better judgement, the criminal continued with the conversation. 

”Pray tell, are your usual acts of aggravating Penguin simply not rubbing him the way they used to? The man no longer feeling that spark? My condolences, truly. I hear Dr. Leland does commendable work with couples these days, you might want to take advantage of her services.”

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

Peter Merkel hadn’t bothered attempting to chat up Oswald, mostly due to the fact he was talking with Scarface. That weird little doll gave him the creeps! And so, he’d continued to sit alone, and think his thoughts.

He had tired of that quickly, but luckily, opportunity happened to walk right through the door, and seat himself at the chess table. In a flash, the contortionist was up and slipping into the seat across from Edward, grinning at him from over the table.

“Hiiii there.” He twiddled his fingers in a sort of wave. “Edward Nygma I haven’t seen you in days! I thought for sure you’d flown the coop again. But here you are, and just in time! Do you play?” He gestured to the board.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

The flirting received an eye roll from the Riddler. Nygma picked up one of his pawn, allowing it to do its jump to H4.

“I’ll tell you if you’ll never say anything like THAT to me again.” Not that he expected Ragdoll to do so either way. So he carried on. “Leland kept her promise with persuading Bartholomew not to send me to a padded suite, but Kellerman still insisted I be kept to myself. Thus, punished to stay in my room until daddy thought I learned a lesson.” 

Dr. Kellerman was his assigned doctor-- and most likely one of the biggest idiots he had come up against with a degree. While Bartholomew could be oblivious, he seemed to at least mean well in his own way. Kellerman, however-- well, his stupidity could be dangerous.  Whether it was from insisting something must have went wrong in Edward’s childhood, to his handling of OTHER patients like Lyle Bolton (good riddance to THAT barbarian), Stephen Kellerman-- in the end-- was more trouble than he was worth keeping for around. Even if he had come in handy in the past, having been able to convince the man of his reformation and thus having been allowed his freedom to start a collaboration with Baxter over at Wacko Toys. (A clever ruse for grander ambitions.)

Still... being locked away for playing a little too rough with the other boys hadn’t been good for his mind-- the large sized book of crossword puzzles he had been given for the month having been worked through within the first few days alone. Having left Nygma utterly bored.

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

Peter Merkel hadn’t bothered attempting to chat up Oswald, mostly due to the fact he was talking with Scarface. That weird little doll gave him the creeps! And so, he’d continued to sit alone, and think his thoughts.

He had tired of that quickly, but luckily, opportunity happened to walk right through the door, and seat himself at the chess table. In a flash, the contortionist was up and slipping into the seat across from Edward, grinning at him from over the table.

“Hiiii there.” He twiddled his fingers in a sort of wave. “Edward Nygma I haven’t seen you in days! I thought for sure you’d flown the coop again. But here you are, and just in time! Do you play?” He gestured to the board.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

Riddler raised a brow, searching the other rogue’s face for some sort of trick or deceit-- the limber lunatic was known to be just as jolly as the Joker, after all. He allowed himself the opportunity to relax into his seat, purposefully showing the man he was no threat to HIM.

“Naturally,” Nygma responded, letting a hand rest against his cheek as he leaned onto the table. “Quite frankly I’m more surprised that YOU would. You never seemed like the type.” The man couldn’t even find the time to learn how to fix his illiteracy, however in the world would have have made time for more intellectual pursuits? 

Still, company after so many days alone in his cell was enough for him to consider taking the man up on the offer-- reaching for the white pieces that were resting in the box on the side of the table as he carried on.

“I’m not used to see you playing by your lonesome, “ The redhead said sarcastically, setting up his side of the board. “You’re usually following somebody or another-- like a dog begging for scraps. Starving for attention, are we, that you’re climbing into my lap, hoping I’ll scratch that itch?”

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

Peter Merkel hadn’t bothered attempting to chat up Oswald, mostly due to the fact he was talking with Scarface. That weird little doll gave him the creeps! And so, he’d continued to sit alone, and think his thoughts.

He had tired of that quickly, but luckily, opportunity happened to walk right through the door, and seat himself at the chess table. In a flash, the contortionist was up and slipping into the seat across from Edward, grinning at him from over the table.

“Hiiii there.” He twiddled his fingers in a sort of wave. “Edward Nygma I haven’t seen you in days! I thought for sure you’d flown the coop again. But here you are, and just in time! Do you play?” He gestured to the board.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

It was around this time that the door to the room had been opened once more, as another patient was escorted inside. As a reflex, a good many inmates let their gaze linger over: and it was by doing so that one would be able to see that the likes of Edward Nygma was now among them. 

While the Riddler did his best to hold his airs of importance, this was only mildly ruined by fact his face was adorned by a compression wrap-- his jaw fixed securely in place. (Making the man look more like he was about to enter a match for a junior wrestling meet more so than recreation time with the most maladjusted members of Gotham.) Nygma, however, didn’t let this damage his pride nor swagger-- bourgeoisie meant nothing to the likes of him anyway. He merely wished to enjoy the privileges that had only been granted back that day.

Edward’s eyes lingered over the room, his gaze snapping towards the speck of obnoxious orange fins among the sea of mundane. The villain found his teeth clenching, his nonchalant attitude souring. However, just as fast, Riddler huffed silently to himself, making a purpose to look around the room for something else. The man had been embarrassed enough by the likes of Penguin. He meant nothing to him, this wasn’t becoming an obsession, he had to remind himself. Batman was at least a worthy opponent, in his own right. It made sense to ponder and plot about how to best the likes of him. The Dark Knight against Prince of all Puzzles-- a competition of nobility at play. But Cobblepot, that peasant?  No, not even worth an iota of thought. The man had been lucky. 

Luck did not equate to genius. 

And it was with that thought that Edward’s gaze landed onto the chessboard over by the side of the room-- his mind only momentarily fluttering with the nonsensical fancy of wishing Tetch or Crane could have been there to play with him. Still, it was out of the way, and would allow him time to access the rest of the room.

And, more importantly, away from the sofa where someone he wasn’t considering was sitting.

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

Another collective grumble, but they did as they were told, sitting and turning their attention to Waylon. He returned their looks, eyes darting around to see all eyes on him. After a moment of silence, he gave a weak shrug.

“I wouldn’t mind learnin’ how to knit.”

________

A week had passed since then, and Oswald found himself being led down the hall to the recreation lounge. He’d requested it, as he’d been going batty in his cell all alone.

He scanned the room once he was there, absentmindedly rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had just been. He frowned and groaned when he spotted Peter waving at him from the other end of the room, where he was just, sitting on the floor in what looked like an uncomfortable position.

“Someone else… anyone else!” Oswald muttered to himself. “Ah-hah! Bingo.” He spotted Arnold Wesker sitting on the couch. He made his way over, coming around the front of it to face the man who was quietly and happily knitting.

“Hey, down in front, I’m tryna watch the tube, here!”

“Huh?” Oswald raised a brow; Wesker hadn’t even looked up. “Oh.” He glanced over to see his doll sitting on the couch beside his blank eyes staring up at him.

“Move over, Pinocchio.” Oswald shoved the doll all the way over and sat down next to Wesker. “Whatcha got there? Makin’ booties for the grandkids?”

He didn’t care. He just needed conversation.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

Arnold had been weary ever since the other inmate had gotten in his space, but otherwise knew his place as he watched the conversation carry on. It was only once his boss had finish saying his piece, that the Ventriloquist dared to ask the question that was on his mind. He finished off his row before starting a new one, keeping his focus on his work so as to avoid eye contact.

“Um, Mr. Cobblepot... have you ever considered NOT answering his riddles? Especially if doing so will just get, well, get him riled up and hurting you again?” 

Not advice he personally wouldn’t have followed, mind you. Arnold Wesker knew he was easily intimidated, and would give into anything if he thought it would save him from violence-- save for betraying Mr. Scarface. Even he had a limit. STILL, Penguin on the other hand had more... conviction about him. If he didn’t want to play a game with the other rogue, surely he could just... not do so.

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

Another collective grumble, but they did as they were told, sitting and turning their attention to Waylon. He returned their looks, eyes darting around to see all eyes on him. After a moment of silence, he gave a weak shrug.

“I wouldn’t mind learnin’ how to knit.”

________

A week had passed since then, and Oswald found himself being led down the hall to the recreation lounge. He’d requested it, as he’d been going batty in his cell all alone.

He scanned the room once he was there, absentmindedly rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had just been. He frowned and groaned when he spotted Peter waving at him from the other end of the room, where he was just, sitting on the floor in what looked like an uncomfortable position.

“Someone else… anyone else!” Oswald muttered to himself. “Ah-hah! Bingo.” He spotted Arnold Wesker sitting on the couch. He made his way over, coming around the front of it to face the man who was quietly and happily knitting.

“Hey, down in front, I’m tryna watch the tube, here!”

“Huh?” Oswald raised a brow; Wesker hadn’t even looked up. “Oh.” He glanced over to see his doll sitting on the couch beside his blank eyes staring up at him.

“Move over, Pinocchio.” Oswald shoved the doll all the way over and sat down next to Wesker. “Whatcha got there? Makin’ booties for the grandkids?”

He didn’t care. He just needed conversation.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

Whether it was from being addressed or Scarface’s sudden yelling, Wesker found himself flinching. The man squirmed as he felt all eyes on him, glass and organ alike-- there was a reason he preferred being in the shadows of others, after all.

“Oh, um, I’m sorry? I don’t think I know what you mean.” The Ventriloquist responded, finding himself shying away as he went back to his knitting-- looping the yarn around a plastic needle.

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

Another collective grumble, but they did as they were told, sitting and turning their attention to Waylon. He returned their looks, eyes darting around to see all eyes on him. After a moment of silence, he gave a weak shrug.

“I wouldn’t mind learnin’ how to knit.”

________

A week had passed since then, and Oswald found himself being led down the hall to the recreation lounge. He’d requested it, as he’d been going batty in his cell all alone.

He scanned the room once he was there, absentmindedly rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had just been. He frowned and groaned when he spotted Peter waving at him from the other end of the room, where he was just, sitting on the floor in what looked like an uncomfortable position.

“Someone else… anyone else!” Oswald muttered to himself. “Ah-hah! Bingo.” He spotted Arnold Wesker sitting on the couch. He made his way over, coming around the front of it to face the man who was quietly and happily knitting.

“Hey, down in front, I’m tryna watch the tube, here!”

“Huh?” Oswald raised a brow; Wesker hadn’t even looked up. “Oh.” He glanced over to see his doll sitting on the couch beside his blank eyes staring up at him.

“Move over, Pinocchio.” Oswald shoved the doll all the way over and sat down next to Wesker. “Whatcha got there? Makin’ booties for the grandkids?”

He didn’t care. He just needed conversation.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

“Oh,” Wesker’s voice trembled as he quickly righted the puppet next to him-- before his boss could even begin to be angry. Satisfied, Arnold pushed up his glasses back to sitting on his nose as he addressed the other rogue.

“Booties? Oh, oho, you’re joking, sir.” This came out as a little laugh, just as shaky as the rest of him. Still, he smiled genuinely. “No, it’s a blanket. I’ve been working on it for a few days now.” He held it up, so as the other man could inspect it. It was a pastel yellow, and from what Penguin could tell, nothing about it LOOKED defective. “Do you, um, like it? I was thinking Mr. Scarface could certainly do with another-- he gets so cold at night, you see.”

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

Another collective grumble, but they did as they were told, sitting and turning their attention to Waylon. He returned their looks, eyes darting around to see all eyes on him. After a moment of silence, he gave a weak shrug.

“I wouldn’t mind learnin’ how to knit.”

________

A week had passed since then, and Oswald found himself being led down the hall to the recreation lounge. He’d requested it, as he’d been going batty in his cell all alone.

He scanned the room once he was there, absentmindedly rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had just been. He frowned and groaned when he spotted Peter waving at him from the other end of the room, where he was just, sitting on the floor in what looked like an uncomfortable position.

“Someone else… anyone else!” Oswald muttered to himself. “Ah-hah! Bingo.” He spotted Arnold Wesker sitting on the couch. He made his way over, coming around the front of it to face the man who was quietly and happily knitting.

“Hey, down in front, I’m tryna watch the tube, here!”

“Huh?” Oswald raised a brow; Wesker hadn’t even looked up. “Oh.” He glanced over to see his doll sitting on the couch beside his blank eyes staring up at him.

“Move over, Pinocchio.” Oswald shoved the doll all the way over and sat down next to Wesker. “Whatcha got there? Makin’ booties for the grandkids?”

He didn’t care. He just needed conversation.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

Joan nodded, helping the inmate get to his feet. She motioned for one of the orderlies on standby to come over. Glasses only enhancing his stoic and ‘no-nonsense’ attitude.

“Mr. Garrison, please attend to Cobblepot and take him to get checked over. I believe Nurse Davis should be the one on duty.”

Luckily a male nurse, Leland couldn’t help but think, even if she tried not to let it color her handling of the patient. The doctor squeezed Penguin’s shoulder one more time in comfort, before turning back to the room.

“Please, back to your seats. I’d prefer this incident not deterring us from the session.” The only polite way to refer to what happened without placing any blame. Joan made her way over to where Nygma had been placed into a straight jacket, still sitting on the floor. The man avoided eye contact, no doubt embarrassment coloring his ire this time around-- and his ego had yet again been chipped away at. Despite the fact the man had been in the wrong, she couldn’t help but pity him regardless.

“Edward... Do you think you can sit with us still? I’d hope by the end of the session we can show that you’re not a danger to yourself or others, and can remove your restraints.”

She REALLY hated having to use the jackets, after all-- and still, she would like to avoid having to follow protocol and have Nygma locked into solitary confinement. Personally she thought the act unjust and only hindered patients, so she would prefer having reason to avoid it all together.

Riddler was pulled to hit feet by the orderlies that had hogtied and wrestled him to the floor to begin with-- as if he was some kind of common swine. The very nerve! Nygma seethed, teeth gritted tightly and as wound as the rest of him. Still, avoiding eye contact, he took a subtle exhale of breath as he allowed himself to cool and to regain his nonchalant demeanor.

“Why, of course doctor. And miss the opportunity to show off this season’s fashion? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Sarcasm was certainly better than the rage he had earlier, so Dr. Leland took it.

“Thank you, Edward.” Joan eyed the others, who were still standing. “Seats, please. We still need to check in with Waylon.”

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

“Who, me?” Ragdoll gestured to himself, only now deciding to knowledge her. “I’m doing so much better now that my friends are back.” Now he gestured in Penguin’s general direction with one hand, to Riddler with the other. The fact he barely knew Riddler at all made no difference. “I was so lonely.”

“Lucky me.” Oswald muttered.

“Yeah so since when were you two friends, anyway? Last I saw ya, you were just as annoyed at him as the rest of us for tryna’ boss us around and landin’ us back in this place. Can’t help but feel I’m  missin’ somethin.” Waylon questioned.

“Ohh, well, funny story, see-”

“For the last time, we ain’t friends!” Oswald suddenly cried out. Ragdoll stared at him, his grin briefly disappearing. Then he glanced back up at Waylon and whispered very loudly,

“I’ll tell you later, then.”

Waylon actually smiled, both in amusement, and the possibility of actually being permitted company later.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

Joan Leland’s eyes had opened very wide at the reaction. She momentarily watched, stunned, as the patient wailed about his woes of friendship. While the doctor wasn’t buying the act in the slightest-- though she supposed after what occurred Penguin was granted the right to be a little dramatic-- her need as a medical provider won out in the end. The hand placed on Cobblepot’s back gave him a small rub of comfort, as she attempted to check him over.

“Are you alright, Oswald?” She asked again, trying to keep the focus on himself rather than the show the inmate was putting on. “Do you need to be escorted to the infirmary?”

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

“Who, me?” Ragdoll gestured to himself, only now deciding to knowledge her. “I’m doing so much better now that my friends are back.” Now he gestured in Penguin’s general direction with one hand, to Riddler with the other. The fact he barely knew Riddler at all made no difference. “I was so lonely.”

“Lucky me.” Oswald muttered.

“Yeah so since when were you two friends, anyway? Last I saw ya, you were just as annoyed at him as the rest of us for tryna’ boss us around and landin’ us back in this place. Can’t help but feel I’m  missin’ somethin.” Waylon questioned.

“Ohh, well, funny story, see-”

“For the last time, we ain’t friends!” Oswald suddenly cried out. Ragdoll stared at him, his grin briefly disappearing. Then he glanced back up at Waylon and whispered very loudly,

“I’ll tell you later, then.”

Waylon actually smiled, both in amusement, and the possibility of actually being permitted company later.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

The look on Riddler’s face was the equivalent of a man who had just been slapped in the face, while standing on holy ground in front a group of nuns, on the day of his mother’s funeral. Or at least, one would assume that something of such intensity happened to the man, as Edward looked at Oswald with utter shock and pain. Dr. Leland didn’t even get a chance to comfort the inmate, before Nygma was leaping from his seat-- a throaty roar escaping him as he went straight for the man who had turned his existence into total suffering.

Dr. Leland could screamed in surprise, jumping up from her chair so fast that it fell back onto the cement floor with a sickening CLACK.

“EDWARD! Get off of him!”

 The woman ran towards the two, her concern only growing as Penguin gagged for breath. He was choking him!

”Guards!” 

She cried, doing her best to pull the patients apart-- her strength nothing against the ire of the Riddler. 

“GUARDS!”

Edward only continued to squeeze all the harder, no longer was he a being of rational thought. All that flooded through him was anger-- his pride murdered once more for a spectating audience. WELL, it was his turn to pay back the respects-- AND THEN SOME!

Edward Nygma would yet again be met with disappointment, and then pain, as the orderlies burst into the room-- tackling him to the ground as they were successfully able to pull the two apart. Riddler ceased his thrashing, his wind literally and figuratively knocked out of him, as he came back to the world by the screams of Leland and the manic laughter of Ragdoll’s filling the room.

“Oswald! Are you alright?” The doctor asked, having thrown herself to the floor to check on him the moment his attacker was removed. Her eyes were wide with panic, as she tried to help him at least sit up.

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

“Who, me?” Ragdoll gestured to himself, only now deciding to knowledge her. “I’m doing so much better now that my friends are back.” Now he gestured in Penguin’s general direction with one hand, to Riddler with the other. The fact he barely knew Riddler at all made no difference. “I was so lonely.”

“Lucky me.” Oswald muttered.

“Yeah so since when were you two friends, anyway? Last I saw ya, you were just as annoyed at him as the rest of us for tryna’ boss us around and landin’ us back in this place. Can’t help but feel I’m  missin’ somethin.” Waylon questioned.

“Ohh, well, funny story, see-”

“For the last time, we ain’t friends!” Oswald suddenly cried out. Ragdoll stared at him, his grin briefly disappearing. Then he glanced back up at Waylon and whispered very loudly,

“I’ll tell you later, then.”

Waylon actually smiled, both in amusement, and the possibility of actually being permitted company later.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

Hugging? No. But she had to agree with the doll for a change at least on one matter: this animosity had gone on for too long.

“Edward... do you feel as if Oswald is to blame for your current state?” While Leland did want to move on to Waylon, perhaps it was better to get this out of the way so that things could carry on.

Riddler rolled his eyes.

“You mean for my new sense of headwear that would even make the likes of the Hatter cringe at its tackiness? Or perhaps you’re referring to the fact I’ve ended up back here, dredging among the squalor, forced to be a good boy so maybe big Papa Barth will let me sit in his lap so as to give me a treat?” At this the man paused, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Hmm. No. No I can’t say I blame Cobblepot for that, even if one would certainly call him a player in what transpired.”

All airiness that had encompassed the man curdled and soured, as his ire turned back to the other redhead in the room.

“No, Dr. Leland, my opinion on the matter is quite simple. Riddle me this:  It is hate and has hate in it, but in the end hate it is not. What would you say I feel?”

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

“Who, me?” Ragdoll gestured to himself, only now deciding to knowledge her. “I’m doing so much better now that my friends are back.” Now he gestured in Penguin’s general direction with one hand, to Riddler with the other. The fact he barely knew Riddler at all made no difference. “I was so lonely.”

“Lucky me.” Oswald muttered.

“Yeah so since when were you two friends, anyway? Last I saw ya, you were just as annoyed at him as the rest of us for tryna’ boss us around and landin’ us back in this place. Can’t help but feel I’m  missin’ somethin.” Waylon questioned.

“Ohh, well, funny story, see-”

“For the last time, we ain’t friends!” Oswald suddenly cried out. Ragdoll stared at him, his grin briefly disappearing. Then he glanced back up at Waylon and whispered very loudly,

“I’ll tell you later, then.”

Waylon actually smiled, both in amusement, and the possibility of actually being permitted company later.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

Nygma nearly rolled his eyes at the others’ antics, slipping out from under Ragdoll’s stringy arms--lest he catch some disease just from breathing in air so close in proximity. The fact Penguin couldn’t see that the man was toying with him simply irritated him all the more that such a simpleton had gotten one over him not once, not twice, but THRICE! It was enough to make the likes of the Riddler STEW in hate and loathing.

Leland, however, took this moment to take back leadership of the session.

“Remember our talk of boundaries, Peter?” The good doctored sighed out, more so by the fact she felt like she had to remind the lanky circus performer time and time again. She chose to overlook Cobblepot’s commentary altogether, knowing better than to get into a talk of how it was more than acceptable to enjoy others companies. Still, her gaze landed on Nygma, the man refusing to make eye contact purely for the sake of it. 

“Edward?” Leland probed. This only caused the man’s scowl to intensify.

“OH, just dandy, doctor.” Was the man’s sarcastic lilt. “Despite the horrible throbbing of my skull, I would say I’m having the grandest of times!”

The talk of pain bought sympathy from the woman, causing her to furrow her brows from concern.

“Pain? Are the medications you’re on not enough for your jaw?”

If Nygma needed a higher dosage, the doctors would need to be notified. This comment, however, did finally get the redheaded patient to look back at her, though his scathing mood didn’t lessen.

“Oh, my jaw is doing well enough, all things considered. I was mostly speaking of the insufferable headache of having to go all  vis-à-vis with pediculous pillocks once more.” 

And with that his gaze landed on Penguin, as if to purposefully demonstrate his point. 

@step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery

“Who, me?” Ragdoll gestured to himself, only now deciding to knowledge her. “I’m doing so much better now that my friends are back.” Now he gestured in Penguin’s general direction with one hand, to Riddler with the other. The fact he barely knew Riddler at all made no difference. “I was so lonely.”

“Lucky me.” Oswald muttered.

“Yeah so since when were you two friends, anyway? Last I saw ya, you were just as annoyed at him as the rest of us for tryna’ boss us around and landin’ us back in this place. Can’t help but feel I’m  missin’ somethin.” Waylon questioned.

“Ohh, well, funny story, see-”

“For the last time, we ain’t friends!” Oswald suddenly cried out. Ragdoll stared at him, his grin briefly disappearing. Then he glanced back up at Waylon and whispered very loudly,

“I’ll tell you later, then.”

Waylon actually smiled, both in amusement, and the possibility of actually being permitted company later.

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

Relief washed over Leland at Cobblepot’s words. And despite his attitude towards Merkel, she had enough awareness to know that-- like with another redhead of the group, her eyes slitting towards Nygma for a brief moment-- that Oswald enjoyed having company more than he let on. Perhaps being similar tended to be where their current bouts of bickering stemmed from.

That, of course, was a topic for another time as the doctor instead chose to carry on the session.

“I’m very pleased to hear the latter, Oswald. The path of improving one’s health begins with having a well rested mind and body, after all.” The groans she received from the group were expected, and this Leland couldn’t help but find endearing in its own way. 

“That, however, brings us onto Peter.” The use of the name caused said patient to ignore her, pretending as if he didn’t know who she was referring to. If Joan didn’t have the patience, she might have rolled her eyes. “Ragdoll,” she tried again, “How have you been?”

Joan Leland watched the clock hanging over the wall, more so to make sure they were nearing time to start the month’s group therapy session. The doctor did a quick sweep across the room, just long enough to take in the moods of the inmates. Arnold Wesker, calm and quiet as always– the Scareface puppet sitting on his lap, somehow looking very alive and annoyed despite his wooden nature. Oswald Cobblepot was to the man’s left, arms across his chest, looking just as annoyed– though that could have been because he was purposefully keeping his gaze away from Peter Merkel next to him. The contortionist’s habit of provoking the man, while technically following the rules of keeping to himself, well… she would have given the man credit for his creativity, if Leland didn’t find herself worried about the way the man was twisting his spine about. A quick peek at Edward Nygma was enough to show even he was ignoring the man’s antics– but otherwise seemed apathetic to everything around him. 

Dr. Leland’s eyes fell to the last seat to her right, frowning as it remained empty.

“Hmm,” the woman said to herself as she glanced back up to the clock. “It appears they are taking a moment to escort Waylon.” For a moment she considered calling the security station to see if perhaps there had been a problem during transportation, however, with the man’s size and condition… Jones was known for needing extra hands to keep him in line– even on a good day. Still, she nonetheless sighed, as she addressed the group, doing her best to smile politely.

“We’ll give them a couple more minutes, and then we’ll start either with or without him. I’m sorry for the delay, either way.”

“Oh, please,” Nygma said with a sarcastic lilt, waving a hand with his devil-may-care attitude, despite his pained and clenched jaw. “There’s no rush, this is all a waste of time, no matter if we’re a full band of misfits or not.”

“Still, “ Leland responded, jotting down to inquire from Edward’s doctor if the man was taking anything for pain alongside his other medications– and to perhaps recommend doing so to see if that may help with his irritable mood. “I wouldn’t wish to keep you all waiting.”

Waiting, however, did give her time to think about things. Such as the news of the fight that had recently gone down between Nygma and Cobblepot. Something she planned on discussing during the session, certainly. Yet… the doctor couldn’t help but lament about the fact usually Edward was more collected during his stays in Arkham– the fact he didn’t have someone there to engage with him that the man considered worth conversing too no doubt coming into play. This, in turn, made Joan think about the one patient so far who had the skill of keeping Nygma playing nice with others.

Dr. Leland’s frown returned as she couldn’t help but think of Jervis Tetch, and his escape a couple months prior with his partner– Jonathan Crane.

To say she was angry wouldn’t have been accurate. While it did, indeed, leave her feeling a bit… well, embarrassed that her encouragement of the two being allowed to share a cell was what led to the two being able to escape and cause a hospital wide riot– she wasn’t upset at them. Confused about how they were able to get Mr. Bennett to work for them– despite the security cameras not showing a single mind control card placed on his person. Yes it left concerns, but she wasn’t upset with her patients. Dr. Bartholomew had talked to her about what had transpired, putting down notes in Tetch and Crane’s files that they will not be sharing a cell upon their return.

Still… despite what happened, Joan couldn’t help but feel she had been on the right track with them. Once Jervis and Jonathan have been returned, she would continue to fight for her treatment plans she had in place. However…. she would still need to find out what exactly happened that caused the security guard to be bribed into working with them in the first place. As well as what would would make both Nygma and Bolton agree to being placed under the Hatter’s control for their escape plan. There were just… too many questions and not enough answers about what had truly transpired.

This, yet again, would have to be a thought for another day, as the door to the room opened– Aaron Cash and a couple of the burlier looking guards under his position helping to escort in the patient they were waiting for: Killer Croc. The inmate was an imposing figure– his arms chained and kept that way even as the mutated man was sat in his seat next to Edward. Waylon’s tail swayed slightly from his own irritation, and Leland couldn’t help but sympathize. She wished they didn’t have to keep him so tightly under close watch– no doubt he treatment feeding into his sense of feeling othered for his condition. Yet… This was the rule in placed, especially after the man had attacked Cash, biting his hand off during one of their squabbles.

Still, Leland smiled encouragingly.

“Good afternoon, Waylon. It’s very nice to see you were able to join us.”

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

“And worse, that he’d still be ALIVE if he did.” Edward growled in his own defense more so than clearing the Penguin’s good name. Ha, that was a laugh!

“No need to sling accusations,” the doctor butted in, doing her best to seize control once more. “We will get to that in due time. Oswald, please,” she stressed the word with a bit of command. “Tell us how you’ve been since returning. No trouble with being back on your medications again?”

‘And more importantly, no additional side effects of the fear toxin?’ Joan couldn’t help but think to herself. While Copplebot wasn’t her patient-- Bartholomew having thought having a woman doctor taking care of him was... problematic-- Dr. Crane, however, was. And a part of her tended to feel responsible for the man’s actions-- even while outside of the hospital’s walls-- despite logically knowing she wasn’t.

Joan Leland watched the clock hanging over the wall, more so to make sure they were nearing time to start the month’s group therapy session. The doctor did a quick sweep across the room, just long enough to take in the moods of the inmates. Arnold Wesker, calm and quiet as always– the Scareface puppet sitting on his lap, somehow looking very alive and annoyed despite his wooden nature. Oswald Cobblepot was to the man’s left, arms across his chest, looking just as annoyed– though that could have been because he was purposefully keeping his gaze away from Peter Merkel next to him. The contortionist’s habit of provoking the man, while technically following the rules of keeping to himself, well… she would have given the man credit for his creativity, if Leland didn’t find herself worried about the way the man was twisting his spine about. A quick peek at Edward Nygma was enough to show even he was ignoring the man’s antics– but otherwise seemed apathetic to everything around him. 

Dr. Leland’s eyes fell to the last seat to her right, frowning as it remained empty.

“Hmm,” the woman said to herself as she glanced back up to the clock. “It appears they are taking a moment to escort Waylon.” For a moment she considered calling the security station to see if perhaps there had been a problem during transportation, however, with the man’s size and condition… Jones was known for needing extra hands to keep him in line– even on a good day. Still, she nonetheless sighed, as she addressed the group, doing her best to smile politely.

“We’ll give them a couple more minutes, and then we’ll start either with or without him. I’m sorry for the delay, either way.”

“Oh, please,” Nygma said with a sarcastic lilt, waving a hand with his devil-may-care attitude, despite his pained and clenched jaw. “There’s no rush, this is all a waste of time, no matter if we’re a full band of misfits or not.”

“Still, “ Leland responded, jotting down to inquire from Edward’s doctor if the man was taking anything for pain alongside his other medications– and to perhaps recommend doing so to see if that may help with his irritable mood. “I wouldn’t wish to keep you all waiting.”

Waiting, however, did give her time to think about things. Such as the news of the fight that had recently gone down between Nygma and Cobblepot. Something she planned on discussing during the session, certainly. Yet… the doctor couldn’t help but lament about the fact usually Edward was more collected during his stays in Arkham– the fact he didn’t have someone there to engage with him that the man considered worth conversing too no doubt coming into play. This, in turn, made Joan think about the one patient so far who had the skill of keeping Nygma playing nice with others.

Dr. Leland’s frown returned as she couldn’t help but think of Jervis Tetch, and his escape a couple months prior with his partner– Jonathan Crane.

To say she was angry wouldn’t have been accurate. While it did, indeed, leave her feeling a bit… well, embarrassed that her encouragement of the two being allowed to share a cell was what led to the two being able to escape and cause a hospital wide riot– she wasn’t upset at them. Confused about how they were able to get Mr. Bennett to work for them– despite the security cameras not showing a single mind control card placed on his person. Yes it left concerns, but she wasn’t upset with her patients. Dr. Bartholomew had talked to her about what had transpired, putting down notes in Tetch and Crane’s files that they will not be sharing a cell upon their return.

Still… despite what happened, Joan couldn’t help but feel she had been on the right track with them. Once Jervis and Jonathan have been returned, she would continue to fight for her treatment plans she had in place. However…. she would still need to find out what exactly happened that caused the security guard to be bribed into working with them in the first place. As well as what would would make both Nygma and Bolton agree to being placed under the Hatter’s control for their escape plan. There were just… too many questions and not enough answers about what had truly transpired.

This, yet again, would have to be a thought for another day, as the door to the room opened– Aaron Cash and a couple of the burlier looking guards under his position helping to escort in the patient they were waiting for: Killer Croc. The inmate was an imposing figure– his arms chained and kept that way even as the mutated man was sat in his seat next to Edward. Waylon’s tail swayed slightly from his own irritation, and Leland couldn’t help but sympathize. She wished they didn’t have to keep him so tightly under close watch– no doubt he treatment feeding into his sense of feeling othered for his condition. Yet… This was the rule in placed, especially after the man had attacked Cash, biting his hand off during one of their squabbles.

Still, Leland smiled encouragingly.

“Good afternoon, Waylon. It’s very nice to see you were able to join us.”

[step-up-to-the-rogue-gallery]

Arnold momentarily looked down at his lap, the implication having hit its mark.

“I... just thought it wouldn’t hurt to have another blanket,” was the man’s weak response. Dr. Leland couldn’t help but sympathize with him.

“I think that’s more than reasonable. I would love to see it once it’s finished, Arnold.” She turned towards the doll, her genuine smile slipping into her forced professional one. “Anything you’d like to add before we move on to Oswald?”

Joan Leland watched the clock hanging over the wall, more so to make sure they were nearing time to start the month’s group therapy session. The doctor did a quick sweep across the room, just long enough to take in the moods of the inmates. Arnold Wesker, calm and quiet as always– the Scareface puppet sitting on his lap, somehow looking very alive and annoyed despite his wooden nature. Oswald Cobblepot was to the man’s left, arms across his chest, looking just as annoyed– though that could have been because he was purposefully keeping his gaze away from Peter Merkel next to him. The contortionist’s habit of provoking the man, while technically following the rules of keeping to himself, well… she would have given the man credit for his creativity, if Leland didn’t find herself worried about the way the man was twisting his spine about. A quick peek at Edward Nygma was enough to show even he was ignoring the man’s antics– but otherwise seemed apathetic to everything around him. 

Dr. Leland’s eyes fell to the last seat to her right, frowning as it remained empty.

“Hmm,” the woman said to herself as she glanced back up to the clock. “It appears they are taking a moment to escort Waylon.” For a moment she considered calling the security station to see if perhaps there had been a problem during transportation, however, with the man’s size and condition… Jones was known for needing extra hands to keep him in line– even on a good day. Still, she nonetheless sighed, as she addressed the group, doing her best to smile politely.

“We’ll give them a couple more minutes, and then we’ll start either with or without him. I’m sorry for the delay, either way.”

“Oh, please,” Nygma said with a sarcastic lilt, waving a hand with his devil-may-care attitude, despite his pained and clenched jaw. “There’s no rush, this is all a waste of time, no matter if we’re a full band of misfits or not.”

“Still, “ Leland responded, jotting down to inquire from Edward’s doctor if the man was taking anything for pain alongside his other medications– and to perhaps recommend doing so to see if that may help with his irritable mood. “I wouldn’t wish to keep you all waiting.”

Waiting, however, did give her time to think about things. Such as the news of the fight that had recently gone down between Nygma and Cobblepot. Something she planned on discussing during the session, certainly. Yet… the doctor couldn’t help but lament about the fact usually Edward was more collected during his stays in Arkham– the fact he didn’t have someone there to engage with him that the man considered worth conversing too no doubt coming into play. This, in turn, made Joan think about the one patient so far who had the skill of keeping Nygma playing nice with others.

Dr. Leland’s frown returned as she couldn’t help but think of Jervis Tetch, and his escape a couple months prior with his partner– Jonathan Crane.

To say she was angry wouldn’t have been accurate. While it did, indeed, leave her feeling a bit… well, embarrassed that her encouragement of the two being allowed to share a cell was what led to the two being able to escape and cause a hospital wide riot– she wasn’t upset at them. Confused about how they were able to get Mr. Bennett to work for them– despite the security cameras not showing a single mind control card placed on his person. Yes it left concerns, but she wasn’t upset with her patients. Dr. Bartholomew had talked to her about what had transpired, putting down notes in Tetch and Crane’s files that they will not be sharing a cell upon their return.

Still… despite what happened, Joan couldn’t help but feel she had been on the right track with them. Once Jervis and Jonathan have been returned, she would continue to fight for her treatment plans she had in place. However…. she would still need to find out what exactly happened that caused the security guard to be bribed into working with them in the first place. As well as what would would make both Nygma and Bolton agree to being placed under the Hatter’s control for their escape plan. There were just… too many questions and not enough answers about what had truly transpired.

This, yet again, would have to be a thought for another day, as the door to the room opened– Aaron Cash and a couple of the burlier looking guards under his position helping to escort in the patient they were waiting for: Killer Croc. The inmate was an imposing figure– his arms chained and kept that way even as the mutated man was sat in his seat next to Edward. Waylon’s tail swayed slightly from his own irritation, and Leland couldn’t help but sympathize. She wished they didn’t have to keep him so tightly under close watch– no doubt he treatment feeding into his sense of feeling othered for his condition. Yet… This was the rule in placed, especially after the man had attacked Cash, biting his hand off during one of their squabbles.

Still, Leland smiled encouragingly.

“Good afternoon, Waylon. It’s very nice to see you were able to join us.”