AN: I do not own. Written in response to a prompt.


Roman Sionis shows up at his office twelve minutes late. It's deliberate, it's petty, and it is funny as fuck from a big shot like him. Warren keeps his feet propped on his desk (which is teak—light, modern, expensive, looks damn nice) and a diminished glass of whiskey within reach. Well, almost within reach. The window behind him is very wide and very bulletproof. He's gotten a great view and a patch of sunlight out of the deal, and if it inspires a little jealousy and frustration in his fellow Gothamites? That's a pretty nice bonus.

Sionis leaves his men at the door. There are a lot of them, strong guys in dark suits with suspicious bulges at the waist. Small guns. Cute. If one of them did decide to start shooting it would just make a mess for everybody concerned, brains blowing out all over. No need to escalate things, right?

"Roman," says Warren without bothering to shift out of the recline he's sent himself into. What remains of his mouth stretches wider. He's all teeth these days. Dentist approved as of last week with the adjustments (I mean if you're gonna go shark, you might as well go shark), and if that isn't something to feel proud of then nothing is.

Meanwhile, everything about this encounter is going swimmingly so far. Black Mask seems accustomed to a more theatrical crowd. Granted, that's to be expected when the guy wears a fake skull on his head most of the time. He's basically there. They could all do with a break from the gag-toys and question mark decor. When you get to hanging around people with actual taste it starts to throw you off. "Good to see your face again. I was beginning to forget what you look like under there."

Of course, Sionis had been smug upon entering. Dark hair with a side-part, white suit and pinstripes, hawkish nose, some stress lines around the eyes. Tense kinda guy, but that wasn't exactly a secret. He'd blinked when he'd found a grin waiting, flitting his gaze through the room while his brows knit and his lips pressed together. A pause, and he sneers. "Nice paperweight, White."

It isn't just a nice paperweight though, it's a great paperweight. Regular re-enactment of The Orca getting its rear chewed off in Jaws. If you shake it the boat bobs in water and little pieces of wood scatter everywhere. You couldn't get classier than that. "I'll make sure to send you one next time I go on vacation," says Warren smoothly. Casually, he eases forward, bringing his feet to the floor and his elbows to the desk. "Maybe I'll shoot a few postcards while you wait."

Sionis snorts, less than impressed. "Was there something you wanted to see me about?"

"That's it for smalltalk? Fine, fine…" Warren lifts his brows, gestures to the chair across from him. "Care to sit?"

"No."

"If you say so," and he shakes his head, amused. "I think you know what this is about."

Ahhh there it is. Sionis' smirk returns, uncompromising and self-satisified. "I'm not moving."

"It isn't the best venue for you," he explains, tilting his head in appeal. It sounds like sympathy. Of course it isn't. "Places like that, they go out pretty fast."

"I think I can handle a casino, White," says Sionis. "You want to make a problem out of it?"

"I'm just saying, the competition would wipe you clean. Why do that when you could do something more productive, like set up a petting zoo?"

Black Mask chuckles. There's an edge to the sound. "You've got no business making threats at me."

Warren sits up slightly, sliding his forearms to rest flat in front of him. With mock-hurt, he says, "Nobody's making threats here, Roman. This just isn't the first time you've taken a chance with money. I'd hate to see something happen to you like that trainwreck with Sionis Industries."

And just like that, Sionis freezes. His jaw, his arms, his entire body stiff with eyes unwavering on Warren's face. Slowly, his mouth moves. The words that emerge are flat. "Excuse me?"

Warren doesn't move as the taller man approaches, lets his eyelids droop as if he's losing interest.

"As I recall," hisses Sionis in his ear, "I never got caught stealing money from my own goddamn company. And I sure never got thrown in Arkham for it." Warren glances his way, meets his gaze. "Don't you dare talk to me like you've never played a game with money and lost. Hell," and Roman is grinning now, wide and nasty, "you probably couldn't win a game of 'Go Fish' in this city."

Warren's eyes darken. He leans forward, and his jaws part. "Are you challenging me?"