'I don't understand', Ed said, shifting slightly as the barber tied the gown around his neck.
'I bet that phrase doesn't get a lot of use in your vocabulary', Oswald said, eyes still scanning the numerous pictures in the magazine he was holding.
Ed frowned as the barber manually tilted his head to the left and right, critically examining Ed's hair with pursed lips. Judging from the man's own gaudy yet impressive blonde dyed mohawk, Ed was in for an 'interesting' afternoon. He silently prayed Oswald would pick a hairstyle for him that looked like it belonged to an actual person and not a videogame character.
He knew his hair had become somewhat…unruly since his incarceration but he didn't think it was that bad!
'My hair's only use is to keep my brain warm', Ed said, tolerating the barber's ministrations as he flicked some hair upwards to see the effect, 'Why spend hundreds of dollars on a biological hat?'
'We are not spending 'hundreds of dollars'. Unfortunately for Maurice here'.
The barber waved a hand as a signal for Oswald not to worry about that and Oswald continued.
'We're making an investment', Oswald elaborated, 'If suits are battle armour, your hair's your helmet'.
'Fashion is far more strategic than I realised', Ed grumbled.
'You're stepping into a different arena my friend', Oswald said as he came over to stand beside Ed's chair.
He showed Ed the magazine and indicated a photograph in the top right.
'I like this one', he said.
He took the magazine away and Ed saw the barber prepare his scissors.
'Don't I get a say in this?' Ed asked incredulously.
'Does he get a say in this?' Oswald asked Maurice, showing him the picture again for reference.
The barber nodded approvingly before turning to Ed.
'Nope', Maurice said.
'Sorry Ed', Oswald said, returning to the sofa to wait, 'Maurice is the expert here'.
Ed settled down in his chair, resigned to his fate.
'How much do I owe you?' Ed asked, running a hand through his newly cropped hair.
'Don't worry about it!' Maurice said, smiling as he tapped an electoral sticker on his till, 'Just happy to help Mr Cobblepot'.
'Seems like a flawed business plan', Ed thought as he left the shop and caught sight of Oswald's own hair as he waited for him. How much had that cost Maurice?
Ed wasn't about to complain about the free service though. With his financial situation, he couldn't have afforded to get a haircut at the barber's college.
As he and Oswald passed a store window, he caught sight of his reflection. Despite his initial reservations, he found he liked the hairstyle. It was clean, surgical and most importantly low maintenance.
Oswald had good taste in more than suits.
That was another thing.
Clothes. How much had it cost Oswald to get him all those suits? To get him the suit and coat he was wearing at that very moment?
He hadn't asked for anything in return. Or was it going to be one of those mobster things? He'd eventually ask Ed to do him a favour in exchange for the material comforts he had given him? Ed wouldn't mind (his moral compass was practically non existent at this point) but he was unsure how long he would be staying at Oswald's in the meantime.
But, Ed didn't have many other options other than to rely on Oswald's goodwill for now.
He was more than happy to help him with his campaign: he'd promised he would. But he would need paid work soon. He wasn't about to take advantage of his friendship with Oswald to keep a roof over his head.
From a mental well being point of view, he also knew he needed to work. His active brain demanded stimulation. To be challenged. To be praised.
What kind of jobs were open to him now anyway? Certificate or not, there were bound to be some employers (especially those in his former profession) who would balk at his past…indiscretions. Perhaps he could doctor his resume? Use an alias? Tactically sidestep any prying questions at interviews, provided of course he got any interviews. Maybe he should just find out where some interviews were being held, lure one of the prospective candidates away, dispose of him quietly, take his place-
'You okay Ed?'
He blinked as he realised he had zoned out in the midst of his theorising. He and Oswald had walked three blocks since they had left the hairdresser.
'Just...being outside', Ed lied to Oswald, sighing as he looked up into the blue sky, 'I never enjoyed going out but it's amazing how much I missed it'.
'I understand', Oswald nodded sympathetically, 'Makes a big difference to look up at the sky without bars in the way'.
They crossed the street and walked under the cast iron arch leading to Gotham Botanical Gardens.
They walked in silence for a while, the sunlight through the trees casting shadows on them as they passed beneath the bare branches. Ed blew into his cupped hands, his fingers chilled despite the leather gloves and noticed Oswald was trailing about a step behind him.
He was also trying very hard to ensure Ed couldn't hear his laboured breaths as he walked.
Ed cast an eye around and located a bench beside the duck pond.
'Let's sit for a minute', he said.
Oswald nodded.
Ed watched until Oswald had lowered himself down into a sitting position before taking a seat beside him.
The park was quiet save for the quacking of the ducks as they paddled here and there on the pond and the occasional bark from a dog being walked in the distance somewhere.
Ed watched out of the corner of his eye as Oswald gripped his knee tightly. It looked as if he was almost trying to keep it in place. His expression was deliberately neutral but Ed detected from the focused eyes and hard line to his lips that it was too tense to be genuine.
'Does it hurt all the time?' Ed asked.
Oswald didn't bother denying anything but the enquiry was too much of a blanket question to give a short answer. How could you describe a kaleidoscope to a blind man? The pain changed subtly depending on many things: if it was cold, if he was walking over a rough surface, how well he'd slept, what he was thinking about…
'Not always', he lied, 'It's chilly today'.
'You ever think about getting it fixed? It's obviously healed badly'.
'I've thought about it'.
'But?'
'It's a useful reminder', Oswald replied, this time honestly, 'That pride comes before a fall'.
'And you don't like using the cane because you don't want to show weakness', Ed added.
Oswald nodded. It was true. Gotham was a jungle: the king couldn't afford to look weak. Too many hungry eyes waiting to take a bite. Never able to let your guard down was exhausting. Running the underworld wasn't a job: it was your whole life.
But with someone beside you, to share the load, the crown felt lighter. Having Ed in the same house was so much more therapeutic than their meagre assigned meeting times had been in Arkham. Oswald just hoped Ed was getting as much out of their new partnership as he was.
'I see your point but you should use one', Ed said, 'I don't like the idea of you hurting yourself for the sake of hubris and going without one is doing more damage. Besides, it only has to look like a cane'.
'What do you mean?'
Ed smiled as his brain began to dedicate itself to the new, intriguing engineering project that had occurred to him.
'You'll see', he promised, 'Ooh do you want an ice cream?'
Oswald followed Ed's pointing finger and saw the candy striped vendor's cart on the other side of the pond.
'In this weather?' Oswald asked.
'Not even if I'm buying?' Ed said in a sing song tone.
'In that case how can I refuse?' Oswald laughed, 'You know I can't remember the last time I had...'
Oswald gave a sudden, odd start and Ed's smile faded as he saw Oswald was shaking.
'Oswald?'
Ed saying his name seemed to snap Oswald out of the strange tremor but he still swivelled his head around, as if unsure of where he was.
'Are you alright?' Ed asked.
'Y-yes…yes', Oswald insisted, then cleared his throat, 'Just uh...yes, ice cream would be nice'.
'Wait here', Ed said, conscious of the pain in Oswald's knee as well as the obvious aversion reflex he had just exhibited.
He recognised it as more of Strange's handiwork.
Ed had seen the ice cream test in action himself while incarcerated.
He had no idea what it was supposed to prove but it had provided a welcome distraction at dinnertime. Ed had discovered he had a knack for betting on the winner of the resultant bouts.
Seeing the effect on Oswald made it far less amusing.
'What'll ya have?' the vendor asked.
'Good question', Ed mused, examining the flavours on offer and trying to pick one Oswald would like, 'But I'll start with a mint choc chip while I try to figure it out'.
Vanilla? No. That was the flavour Arkham always served. Too much chance it would be a sensory trigger.
Strawberry? No. The one on offer was poor quality judging from the chalk like texture.
Coffee? No. Oswald disliked coffee.
Out of chocolate. Shame.
Ed's eyes lit up as he saw the next flavour. Perfect.
As he walked back to the bench with the ice creams, Ed reflected on the lack of clinking from the change that had been in his pocket prior to their purchase.
He hadn't realised when he had been handing it to the vendor but that had been all the money he had left. The coins they had returned to him along with the rest of his effects on the way out of Arkham.
He couldn't ignore the twisting sensation of worry in his stomach as he thought about his lack of funds but also knew ironically that there was no point worrying. The money that had been in his pocket wouldn't have been useful for anything else anyway.
Oswald had mentioned 'investment' earlier and looking at Oswald's grateful face as he handed him the ice cream, Ed now knew what he meant.
'Thank you', Oswald said, licking his lips in anticipation, 'Cookies and cream. Yummy'.
'No problem', Ed said, re-taking his seat, 'Wanna know why I picked it?'
'Black and White', Oswald said immediately, halting his enthusiastic licking for a moment, 'You got mint choc chip which is green like your suit and you got me black and white like a penguin'.
'That's actually a well-reasoned answer', Ed said, impressed, looking at his ice cream as if he had just realised the colour.
'But not the one you're looking for', Oswald said, 'Go on then, tell me why you got me cookies and cream?'
'Same reason I got myself mint choc chip', Ed said, 'Very different components but when combined they are a force to be reckoned with. They go well together'.
Oswald smiled happily as he realised the comparison Ed was making.
'Is the bedroom I've given you in the mansion okay for you?' Oswald asked.
'Better than ok', Ed replied, 'I haven't slept that well in months but, I promise, I- I won't be squatting for very long okay? Just until I get a job and-'
'I thought you'd agreed to help me with my campaign?' Oswald asked, confused.
'You meant as an actual job? Like, paid work?'
'Of course Ed! I wasn't expecting you to do it out of charity! That is if you want to do it, I mean, only if you don't have plans of your own, don't want you to think I let you out of Arkham just to railroad you somewhere. I didn't even think. You probably have your own plans and if you want to leave then you can-'
'No! No!' Ed hastily interjected, upset at having caused Oswald distress, 'I would love to work for you!'
Oswald reassured by Ed's reply, took a satisfying crunch out of his cone. He swallowed and swept a hand impressively around, like a king inviting someone to view his kingdom.
'A prime opportunity to act as an aide for Gotham's new up and coming mayoral elect', he said magnanimously, 'A job that includes room and board as well as a competitive salary, good networking opportunities and weekends off'.
Ed pretended to consider, chewing a mouthful of cone himself.
'What's the downside?' he asked.
'You have to put up with Butch', Oswald said, inhaling through gritted teeth.
Ed breathed out slowly.
'That's a pretty big downside', he said, sucking his teeth.
'Trust me I know', Oswald said, rolling his eyes, 'But he's got good connections and he knows how the city works. I'm going to need him to grease the wheels'.
'Only for you Oswald', Ed said finally, offering a hand.
'Glad to have you on board Mr Nygma', Oswald said graciously, shaking Ed's hand.
'Glad to be on board Mr Penguin', Ed said, wiping his gloves clean of cone shavings, 'I won't let you down'.
Oswald smiled at the promise and threw his bunched up napkin at a nearby trashcan. He missed and it bounced along the ground. Oswald tutted in annoyance and made to get up. Ed beat him to the punch, picked it up and deposited it into the bin.
Ed walked back to the bench and threw his own balled up napkin.
Unlike Oswald's it landed perfectly in the trashcan.
Oswald shook his head fondly as Ed licked his own fingertip and drew a number '1' in the air.
'You'd better not', Oswald joked, 'I know where you live after all'.