Jonathan Crane sighed and read over his notes one more time. This toxin should be working better than this…
A lab rat squeaked and tore around in frantic circles in its cage as the Scarecrow flipped through the pages of his notebook. He waved a hand at the animal as if to silence it, but the gesture only seemed to make it more terrified. Still, this toxin just wasn't up to par… A loud thud followed by a curse suddenly interrupted Jonathan's thoughts and he dropped the notebook, rushing into the other room.
"Eddie? What happened?"
Edward Nygma leaned against the wall, trying to look nonchalant. But to the trained observer, his smile was forced-the usually soft curve of his mouth pained.
"I'm alright. Just…tripped. That's all."
A slight blush of embarrassment colored the Riddler's cheeks and he swallowed, straightening.
The Scarecrow shook his head and moved closer, placing a steadying hand on Eddie's shoulder. "There's something wrong."
All at once, the Riddler's eyes seemed to harden and pulled back slightly, stepping over to the living room. "I'm fine, Jonathan."
But the Master of Fear had noticed something.
"Eddie…you're limping."
"I am not!"
Jonathan took a slight step back, watching Eddie with a slightly bewildered expression. Eddie was never like this…
"I'm…sorry."
The Prince of Puzzles looked up at him, then, expression softening as his eyes met Jonathan's.
"Jon…I'm the one who's sorry. It's alright, I'm not mad at you. It's just…look, I'm kind of tired. I think I'm going to turn in early, ok?"
The Scarecrow hesitated, then nodded slightly. "Ok."
Eddie walked over to him, coming closer until they were inches apart and looking into his eyes. Jonathan looked back, trying to see what the Riddler was thinking. They say eyes are the windows to the soul, but Eddie's were…clouded, somehow. Dimmer.
Worried, Jonathan impulsively placed a hand on the Prince of Puzzle's shoulder. Eddie looked at it for a moment, then suddenly stepped forward, hugging the Scarecrow almost desperately. The Scarecrow held him for a few moments and then the other man let go, turning without a word and heading for his bedroom.
He paused slightly after a few steps and then drew himself up, taking a deep breath.
But for all his determination, a very faint limp still characterized the Riddler's steps.
