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Last Edit: Mar 14, 2011 23:50:47 GMT -5 by Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Mar 14, 2011 23:26:38 GMT -5
(OOC: Not sure if this takes place after or before meeting with Harley, but it won't effect that plot line)
Edward sat at the small table in the back corner. His notebook was opened with swirls of numbers and tiny printed words that made no coherent sense to anyone else but himself. His pen tapped against the upper edge. He had created an amazing plan that almost seemed flawless. Of course, it wasn’t flawless. Batman was always a threat in the back of his mind, yet for some reason every time he started thinking of Batman his mind went back to his latest riddle.
He thought of the way her lips tensed when her eyes had the artistic glaze to them. He remembered how her brown hair seemed stuck to her brow, but it didn’t destroy her intensity. He remembered how with each accomplishment she would smile for a mere moment before focusing on the next task.
Stop it, Nigma. You need to be focusing on your next plan. You cannot have room for error especially with other players in the game.
His pen tapped harder on the edge of his notebook producing a large black spot. He never had this problem before. His mind was trained to create and solve…not to fluster over the silly movements of a girl. He looked up from the table to see other interesting customers. The cliental here was not as nice as the Iceberg, but it provided a spot for Edward to think. He didn’t have to hear the pounding music behind the wall here. Instead all he heard were quiet whispers and movements of dishes. Every now and then, he could even snag a piece of information he could use for later. The coffee shop had become his second office in a way. It was only two blocks away from his main hideout.
His eyes fell back onto the yellow notebook with black marks. He wished he knew how far the Batman had gotten in determining his riddle. Had he spoken to Nina yet? He should meet up with her to see.
No.
It was a small tiny fragment that had no factor in his plan. He needed to focus on the Joker, and whether he would actually go through with their agreement. He also needed to find another rogue to send Batman on a goose chase. He had so much to do…so many pieces to put in place.
Why couldn’t he focus?
Coffee.
Yes, he needed coffee. He looked up in search for the quiet owner, and spotted her wiping the back counter down. He held up his hand in a wave as if ordering her to get over here now.
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Post by megan on Mar 15, 2011 0:00:02 GMT -5
A bit of a lull has taken over the cafe - the customers already present are content and there aren't any new ones waiting to order. Margaret always uses moments like this to catch up on work the work that piles up during busier hours: dishes, wiping down counters, and cleaning up the mess she'd made during busier moments.
She recognizes the man in the back corner - she has a good memory for people despite the number of them that she sees on a daily basis, and she's glad to have such repeat customers; a bit impatient perhaps, but doesn't cause trouble. Just sits by himself with that focused expression on his face. But despite her work load and the attention she's giving all the other customers in her cafe, she doesn't fail to notice that he's different today. Clearly something is disrupting that normal focus, and it looks like it's a very big something.
It's almost a relief to her when he waves a hand, and she only pauses long enough to set aside the rag she's using on the counter before she walks over at her naturally quick pace. "What can I do for you?" she asks in her normal, reserved tone. Clearly, what he actually needs is for someone to talk to about whatever is on his mind, but she's guessing that he's not going to ask for that. But since things are currently slow, she'll be happy to give it to him anyway - though she'll get him whatever it is that he thinks that he needs first.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2011 0:31:36 GMT -5
The older woman came quickly to his table. He had been coming here for a few months now, yet he still hadn’t determined her name. Partially because he didn’t care enough to waste his time with such pitiable information, and partially because the woman didn’t speak out of turn. She spoke when she believed it was her place to speak, and he greatly appreciated it. He assumed most of her customer’s appreciated it. If they didn’t, she probably wouldn’t have the amount of business she had everyday.
Trust.
That’s what she had managed to create between her and the underbelly of Gotham. Edward admittedly felt a sense of trust between the old coffee shop owner. He hadn’t once felt threatened the GCPD would barge in, or be knocking at his hide out a day later. He amazingly enough, didn’t even think the Batman would randomly appear from the shadows. It was stable. He knew when he came here he would get his coffee and think.
“Coffee. Black. Three Sugars,” he stated like a fact sheet instead of a polite order. He wasn’t purposefully trying to be rude, but he wasn’t in the mood to be flamboyantly witty. He had little sleep. He had a plan that had to be finished by the end of the week. He had the Joker to worry about. He had…
A woman that kept popping into his mind like an all consuming tape worm.
Therefore, it was no surprise that Edward actually missed the clues on the owner’s expression. A worry look and glancing eyes were as easily deduced as how to win tic tac toe, but Edward wasn’t there. His mind was racing off into a loud storm filled with too many riddles. He couldn’t keep up as he tried to sort them all through.
He sighed, rubbing his hand along his tired face before turning back to the notes. You solve a puzzle by working through the steps. He could do it. He just needed his notes to stop blurring together in a black mess of scribbles..
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Last Edit: Mar 15, 2011 1:07:42 GMT -5 by megan
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Post by megan on Mar 15, 2011 1:04:17 GMT -5
Giving the order a small murmur of acknowledgment, Margaret heads back behind the counter and makes it to order with the quickness and ease of many years of practice. It would seem like mere moments before she returns and quietly sets the cup of coffee in front of the man. But instead of quietly turning away to continue with her other work, she does something probably wholly unexpected; she sits down across from him.
"I've owned this place and have been running it by myself for over twenty years," she says abruptly, "And I know what a person looks like when they've got something on their mind that needs to be talked out - so don't you dare lie to me and tell me any different." And then she stops and waits expectantly, ready to hear anything. There's an observant quality to her eyes as well - one that takes in a lot more than it seems to at first glance.
Sure, she got a lot of customers by having the good sense to keep her mouth shut and pretending to not pay any attention to matters that didn't concern her. But she also keeps a lot of customers because of this trait: if someone needs her and she doesn't have to go too far out of her way to do it, then she helps them. In the end, most people appreciate occasionally getting what they need on top of getting what they want out of their visit to her cafe.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2011 20:31:25 GMT -5
The smell of coffee on swirling along his nose did nothing to drag him out of his daze. He had begun relating to the curve of his ‘a’s to the curve of Nina cheek…yelling at himself to focus on what the words actually said. So when the sound of the chair across from him moved and the owner plopped herself down, he flinched like a scared child.
Her words only made sense in the middle of her little intervention. He frowned. Didn’t he just give her credit for basically minding her own business? He immediately preferred when she wasn’t speaking. He came here to think not to talk…especially not to talk with some average woman who dedicated her life to making coffee for thugs and occasionally geniuses like himself. He had better things to do then grace her with a conversation to edge away her concern. Why did she care anyways? He ordered. He paid. He left. It was a simple method that she was throwing off completely and ruining his already horrid mood. He wondered if the older lady even realized who he was.
“There is always something on my mind, but that doesn’t mean you have a prestige stature to hear it,” he commented causally not trying to be mean enough that she kicked him out of his second office but also not kind enough that she would stay. He then glanced back down at his notes in order to get the idea he didn’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t like there was actually something bothering him. He just had a lot on his plate at the moment. Any normal person would be overwhelmingly stress; it’s surprising he wasn’t in a full break down.
Well not surprising to him, he never felt out of control.
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Post by megan on Mar 15, 2011 22:05:19 GMT -5
The words Margaret gets in return prompt a small pursing of the lips, but his attempt to dismiss her goes completely disregarded. It's been her experience that the most abrasive of people are the ones who need to talk to her the most - quite possibly because they've driven anyone else they might have talked to away from themselves. And simply calling her... what did that even mean anyway? No matter, it's not the worst that she's heard.
"It's not what's on the top of your mind that I want to know about," she answers carefully, as if assuming that the reason that she didn't get the answer she wanted was because she was misunderstood, "It's whatever's stopping you from thinking about that for more than a minute or two." Leaning back in her chair and starting to watch him even more carefully, her voice is tired when she adds, "Or you can just sit there and let me guess - it works out to be about the same to me."
It's always the smart ones that give her the most trouble with this sort of thing - assuming that she's some sort of idiot just because she's never gone beyond running her little cafe. But that's not the reason she's stayed here for so long, no: life happened. A whole lot of it, and all at once. And she rather suspects that she learned as much from that as anyone with their fancy degrees. Her ability to quickly get a sense of a person, for example, is not something you learn in college. Not in the way she does it, anyway: it's like an instinct based on how they move rather than a conscious effort to pick up on the minute details. She merely has to remember what this man looked like all the other times she's seen him, compare that with what he's like today, and speculate on what could have made the difference.
And what she knows or guesses about who he is other than a regular at her cafe is, like a lot of things, something that she's never going to talk about.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2011 23:53:12 GMT -5
Her response is completely ridiculous and caused him to look up at her with irritated features. Did she seriously believe he had misinterpreted her? He prayed that her obliviousness was a façade to lower his expectations of her, but knew it was most likely caused from her lack of brain function. The fact that she was speaking to him as if he were a kindergartener learning basic math only caused a tingle of pain along his leg.
His hand jumped to his pocket and pulled out his candy. If this woman continued to bother him, he would have an empty pocket by the end of it. He popped the candy into his mouth as he attempted to ignore the rest of her words. Did everyone in the world have to be sooo…stupid? No, not everyone some people were rare…but once again he forced the thought away.
and let me guess…
The word caused an eyebrow to rise along his forehead as his attention went to the coffee shop owner again. “Guess? Like a riddle…” he said in a quiet tone, talking more to himself then to her. Talking to her was exhausting and it had only started, but watching her deduce a riddle like himself would be entertaining in a sad pathetic way…like watching a three legged dog attempt to walk.
“Okay,” he finally decided, “If you can figure out the enigma I have no reason to protest.” He crossed his arm over his chest as leaned back in chair waiting patiently for this failed attempt.
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Post by megan on Mar 16, 2011 0:23:02 GMT -5
There's just the slightest look of triumph in Margaret's eyes as he at least consents to let her take a guess. But it's not going to be a shot-in-the-dark type of guess; she knows people.
Knows that every time this man has turned up in her cafe, he's had that deeply focused look on his face that he just can't seem to maintain today. But whatever problems he'd been pondering so deeply, they didn't seem to frustrate him; no, they were simply complex and not actually more difficult than he could manage. However, what was interrupting him today was different; he was avoiding it - perhaps it was a problem that was beyond him, or perhaps it was something he'd simply rather not consider. What sort of problem would such a smart man avoid?
She knows, based on the way he interacts with others including herself, that he's not the type that allows himself to get close to anyone. In fact, he seems to make a point of doing just the opposite. So one thing he certainly avoids is relationships... Putting two and two together after that realization is simple enough.
It does take her several long moments to reach that conclusion, but eventually she says, "So tell me about this woman." And while it is, as she said, a guess, it's one that she can put a lot of confidence behind. People she can't read are few and far between, especially when she really concentrates at it. She can't claim to be any great intellect, but she does have her talents.
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Last Edit: Mar 16, 2011 2:09:33 GMT -5 by Deleted
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Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2011 2:06:16 GMT -5
He watched her carefully with an arrogant smirk dancing on his face. He did love to see the little people attempt to come up with logical responses. It was interesting to note the way she puzzled over it. He wondered if parents got this much entertainment from watching their children attempt their homework. When she still seemed stuck in thought after a few long minutes he almost laughed and shooed the woman back to the kitchen. Come again when you have studied and prepared, he almost taunted but then the words left her mouth.
He frowned. The quick burst of giddiness draining from his system by the one question. Woman? There was no woman, even though an unwanted image of Nina entered his thoughts. She wasn’t a woman…well she was…but that didn’t mean she was bothering him. So what if she was a challenging player who out-witted him on occasion, she was just like every other person in Gotham.
Useless.
“I haven’t spoken to my mother in years,” he deflected, “so unfortunately I have nothing to say. Nice try, I would offer you a second chance, but as you can tell, I am working on something.” He grabbed his pen quickly and pointed at his notebooks. “It’s hard to work when someone’s interrupting your thoughts,” he commented, nodding to the older woman...even though his subconscious was blaming someone else for that burden. He once again looked down at his notes so his hat hid most of his face as he tapped on his notebook impatiently. He hoped his body language gave hint for the woman to leave. He had come to the conclusion that she was intellectually slower, but no one had such a low IQ to miss all of his obvious signs of displeasure.
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Post by megan on Mar 16, 2011 2:40:41 GMT -5
The evasiveness causes Margaret to frown slightly; she'd thought that she'd made it pretty obvious by now that she wasn't so easy to get rid of. Such a stubborn man, this one. And the way he works around it tells her that she was right: any idiot could tell that she hadn't been referring to his mother, so that he said that instead of telling her she was wrong makes it clear that she'd reached the right conclusion.
Aside from picking out that detail, she disregards the rest of his irrelevant statements and instead responds only to the last one. "Yes, I'm sure it is. That's why you need to talk to me about her. Whatever it is that you're doing will take at least twice as long otherwise," she points out dryly. Can't the poor man see that she's trying to help him?
For a moment she considers the possibility of trying to read even more into the situation now that she's sure that she was correct that he's having some sort of woman trouble. However, there are so many different types of that kind of problem that it gets hazy after that. She'd need to know more about either this man or the woman he's obsessing over to draw it out much further. And for all she knows he could be having several of them at the same time.
Instead she comments, "And there ain't nobody better to talk about a woman to than another woman. And I ain't known to repeat anything I hear." As she says this she leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and holding her head up with one of her hands.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2011 12:28:59 GMT -5
The pressure put on his pen was starting to cause a hole in the front page of his notebook. He couldn’t even look up at the woman who had decided to keep pestering him. Did he just attract stubborn women? He wished he had some type of repellant like bug spray. He didn’t understand why it was so difficult for him to work alone.
He felt the gun in his waistband that taunted him for an easy escape, but his logical side knew that was slightly dramatic. He obviously couldn’t get rid of her. He could leave…but he had spent twelve hours in his warehouse and had nothing finished. It was that very reason he was now in the coffee shop with a woman trying to pry into his mind. He let out an annoyed sigh. If he talked to her, maybe she would leave him alone.
But she wanted to talk about her…
He had no reason to talk about her.
Her last comment lightened his mood. He smiled and a short chuckle left his mouth. Talking to a woman about a woman was a horrible option. Women tended to exaggerate facts to make their simple bleak lives of cooking more exciting. Women were not a riddle. They were simple: flattery and gifts. Done. If he really wanted Nina he could have her, but he didn’t want Nina.
He looked up from his notebook with content look. If she really wanted to talk about women he would talk about women. “I don’t quite understand why you assume it is a woman plaguing my thoughts. I have no problems with women. Not only do I have my dashing good looks but most feel sympathy when they see my cane,” he nodded at the object reminding himself to the rare elegant party he went to at Falcone’s, “They swarm around me in hopes to care and help poor innocent me. Motherly instinct, I presume. It doesn’t matter how you hook them though. It only takes a few crafted words and I have them back to my apartment. So while I greatly…appreciate your concern, it’s highly unnecessary. It’s like worrying that I can’t pour myself a bowl of cereal.”
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Post by megan on Mar 16, 2011 14:12:39 GMT -5
Finally Margaret's patience and tolerance have started to bear fruit. Not much, she must admit, but now he's giving her something to work with. His words provide her with more of the missing pieces of the puzzle; they tell her how he sees the world and in this case hints at a few of his blind spots. They expand upon what she already knows about how views people, based on the way he treats them; how he normally views and treats women. They are objects to him.
But Margaret knows so many men like him that the realization doesn't phase her. No, the really interesting thing is that she knows that such men don't obsess over the women they view as objects any more than they'd obsess over a particularly comfortable couch. And that he doesn't seem to understand that distinction tells exactly what his problem is. The only question is, how does she explain it to him without him dismissing the idea without a second thought?
"Hmm," she says, making a sound of agreement, "Oh, I'm sure you could have any number of women. But this one's different, ain't she? She stays with you: your mind keeps repeating for you the last time you saw her, especially all the little details that you liked. You want to see her again. You wonder what she's doing - what's she thinking about? Is she thinking about you? You wonder how she feels about you. And if she walked in the door right now the first thing you'd do is find some shiny surface so that you can make sure you look just right for her." Yes, it's all too easy for her to simply list off the symptoms of his problem. Why so many people have such a hard time recognizing this in themselves is beyond her.
She pauses for a moment - now that she understands his problem, Margaret is able to begin to get a sense of the person who caused it. What kind of a woman would prompt that feeling in a man like this? She speaks one of her conclusions out loud, "I think it'll probably take more than a few words with this one."
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Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2011 19:08:41 GMT -5
“No,” he snapped immediately, his hand slamming against the small table. He realized how loud he said it when he heard movement through the shop and felt glances towards him. His irritated features relaxed just a bit. He didn’t mean to yell. His volume automatically rises when people fail to think logically or disregard his intelligence in such a way. He coughed into his hand almost awkwardly to draw attention away from them before roughly sliding it through his hair. The amount of pressure he was putting on his hand looked like he was forcefully trying to remove the agitation from his brain. Once the glancing eyes seemed bored by the commotion he had created, he looked back at the owner with a glare.
“No,” he repeated in a normal tone using both of his hands to explain almost like he thought the reason she was bothering him was because she didn’t understand speech. “I don’t wonder I know,” he spoke slowly, “She's working. She’s thinking about work, guilt, and me. She hates me, but it doesn’t matter because she’s predictable and like every other average person in Gotham. A solved riddle tossed into the back of the cabinet with the other junk mail. So again, no I do not wonder about her. I would not waste my time puzzling over her life.”
Did he really come off as a man who could easily be controlled by a woman’s subtle charms? He knew exactly how Nina reacted. She went home and figured out her life so she could be more productive in work. She would first hate him and eventually forget about him. She would become routine…and boring. Nina was boring.
And maybe she had appeared in his thoughts on occasion…or a bit more, she did just escape his riddle alive. He would have anyone who had escaped his riddle on his mind for sometime. She also was his messenger, and he wouldn’t be able to go through with his plan if Batman didn’t get his riddle. There were many logical and factual reasons he had been thinking about her. It definitely wasn’t the insinuation this woman was making.
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Last Edit: Mar 16, 2011 20:10:27 GMT -5 by megan
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Post by megan on Mar 16, 2011 20:09:54 GMT -5
Even the strength of the anger in the man's reaction isn't enough to cause Margaret to flinch. She simply waits out that and his attempt to deny the whole thing. Actually, what he says tells her a lot of things, the least of it being that she's once again right on track and exactly why this man has such a deep desire to shove away the distraction instead of to confront it directly. This man is a real piece of work, isn't he?
In fact, she's silent and thoughtful for a few moments even after his rant ends, and she quietly comments, "Feelings ain't like the rest of a person. They don't line up all nice and neat. You can't boss them around or tell them what they should be. Some of them can be worked with a bit, if ya know how, but mostly they just are. So you can tell all that stuff to yourself all you like, but it won't change a thing." However, there's a note of conclusion to her tone as she says this; she's not going to argue this point with him any more. She's sure that he's realized what she's getting at, and now that she's put that thought into his head what he does with it is up to him.
But he's also brought up another subject that she thinks probably needs to be aired. "But let's not talk about that any more," she adds to emphasize that this is, despite any appearances to the contrary, a change of subject, "Now I'm just curious: what is this woman like? Her character, I mean. If you can indulge me on that I'll probably let you be." Mostly because if he gives her that much, she'll then be able to say the rest of what he needs to hear. She now has a pretty good picture of exactly who this man is, but without at least having a rough idea of who the woman in the picture is, there's a limit to how helpful she can be.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 17, 2011 23:24:51 GMT -5
He frowned when the woman preceded to insatiate her point about his feelings. A woman as low grade as herself could not begin to understand the process of his mind. If she were to ever step place in his complicated mind she would be swept away, yet here she sat, acting as if she knew himself better then he did. He didn’t like Nina, and this woman was too thick headed to actually listen to him. He almost grabbed his cane to leave, but as soon as his agitated hand reached out for it she said the three magic words:
Let you be.
All she wanted was a description and she would leave him alone. He smirked. Descriptions were simple for a person with his level of deductive skills. He could easily write an entire novel of a wooden floorboard with a quick glance.
Nina.
This time he purposely replayed every moment beginning at the museum when he saw her studying the Gettysburg Address picture and ending with her form casually stepping up the stairs as if she hadn’t just been in a death trap. The images flashed like a movie where the director kept moving the frame of the camera to get the entire three-dimensional picture. The difficulty wasn’t having enough information to portray Nina accurately; no, the problem was being able to depict Nina’s complicated person in such a way a simple-minded coffee shop owner would understand.
“Have you ever played Chess?” he asked, knowing the answer would most likely be no. But if it was no then she didn’t deserve to understand his description anyways. “There is a particular piece that reminds me of her, the bishop. It’s not because she doesn’t have the power of the almighty queen, but because she’s unnecessarily overlooked. I myself overlooked her true potential at first glance, but once understanding her unique attributes and traits I realized the power.” He, of course, was not talking about Nina’s literal power to manipulate microorganism. In all honesty, he rarely ever thought of her power. He knew it was impressive, but it was such a small part of the things that truly captivated him about her. “Just like the bishop, it goes unnoticed and uses that low expectation to better situate itself to win. Winning could mean protecting or sacrificing another piece like a queen, but primarily, winning is always meant to protect the King. She is always thinking about the King, about how she can help the King in the long run. Stubbornness, yes very stubborn,” he repeated almost gazing off into his many conversations, “the piece can’t be easily taken because it stubbornly and smartly zig zags through the field behind a defense she has set up previously. A defense that is difficult to destroy, but you continuously attempt to chip away at it...partially because you want to get to the bishop but mostly because the defense is flawed and you need to prove to yourself that you can destroy it. Chip…that as far as you really can go though. It's impenetrable. You can’t get to the bishop…even though it keeps popping out of its defense fast enough to disrupt your well thought out plans. You get so irritated you almost want to forget about the game entirely and rip the bishop off the field and toss it onto the floor, but you can’t. You have respect for it because it is challenging you to think of a strategy you hadn’t considered before.” He paused for a moment feeling all of those emotions Nina had caused over the long period in a matter of moments before finally drifting off to the moment in her apartment. She stood at the door not surprise of his presence but relief. She… “And that small rare smile your witty remark caused made all the frustration worth it….” the words left his mouth on their own record as he even remembered the glow in her eyes.
He found himself smiling as he stared down at his pen.
.................
Before frowning immediately as a small bit of realization started to occur. No. no….no.
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