Chapter Twenty-One: Oswald Tells Sylvia
Once she'd finished singing her last aria, Sylvia left the pianist on the stage to perform a few pieces of his own. The flutist had returned to accompany the pianist in a duet of sweet harmony. While her office was on the same floor as her balcony, she could still hear the music and guests' chatter rising from the ground level. She closed the door behind her, walking to the opposite wall of the entrance where she always kept two half-glasses and a bottle of whiskey, ready to pour.
She'd been singing in front of that type of crowd for nearly two years and even on a good day when she met each pitch perfectly, her nerves were mangled by the end. It wasn't until she'd finished pouring herself a drink when she realized she'd never heard the door to her office click shut.
Peering up from her glass, she smiled when she saw Oswald.
"Hey!" She greeted.
"Hello yourself," Oswald returned, mirroring her smile. "You were phenomenal as usual. How are you feeling?"
"Relieved that it's over," Sylvia said half-seriously as she held up her drink indicatively, "as usual."
He steadily walked inside the office, closing the door a moment after. As he did, Sylvia watched him, briefly seeing how odd he was acting. There was a difference in the way he congratulated her, as though it was simply a segue to a much more serious conversation.
"What's wrong, Ozzie?"
He looked taken aback, as she'd seen him act when after he'd spoken to Ed. After Ed had left, Oswald had met her gaze, and he appeared just as startled by the question as he'd been when they made eye contact during her song. His expression wasn't dramatic by any means; in fact, if she hadn't known him so well, his subtle reaction would have likely gone unnoticed.
"Nothing is wrong."
"You're lying to me," Sylvia said; while her tone was permanently light, her smile was temporary.
"I'm not lying."
"You know, if it's about my performance, you can give me some feedback. Constructive feedback can only lead to improvement where improvement is needed." Sylvia offered.
Oswald chuckled, happy to feel relieved that while she was sure her performance had been fantastic (as usual), she could break the tension with a joke.
But why did there need to be tension at all, Oswald wondered. He'd faced death numerous times—for Christ sake, he'd once been locked in a Sedan as a voracious machine attempted to crush him to death! And yet, he was more terrified of this woman than he'd ever been.
Apparently, his long pause was noticed. Sylvia cleared her throat quietly, drank a few sips from her cup, and then gestured for Oswald to sit in the chair in front of her desk as she sat on the edge of it, directly in front of him.
Their seated positions made Oswald smile just a little. They had one too many conversations like this, but rather, this was the first in which they had a conversation while Sylvia was in her office; and he was merely a guest.
"What's wrong, Oswald?" She voiced once more, but her soft tone became more concerned.
"I have something to tell you, although, to be honest, I'm not entirely sure how to articulate it." He admitted, looking up at her.
"Does it have something to do with Edward Nygma?" She guessed.
Oswald stared at her.
She smirked, saying, "Well, your stunned silence is reassuring. I'm guessing I'm right?"
"Yes, but how…?"
Sylvia let out a cute giggle, not a sound that Oswald heard often. A wry chuckle, a sinister snicker, even the raucous laugh that came out when she watched someone get their ass handed to them: Yes, Oswald had heard plenty of those come out of her mouth. But this giggle was almost uncharacteristic.
"What's so funny?" Oswald asked defensively.
"You." She said, pointing to him with a gesture of her eyes. "You make me laugh without ever even trying."
Confused, a bit offended by her reaction, Oswald stood: "How am I being funny?"
Sylvia drank the last of the whiskey from her glass and placed it on the desk surface before she bounced her backside away from the edge; she wrapped her arms around his neck, a response that left Oswald even more confused than a moment ago.
"You forget that I know you, sweetheart." Sylvia purred. "I know when you're angry, or when you're happy. I know when you're jealous, and…" She kissed his cheek. "I know when you've started having feelings for someone—in addition to myself."
Oswald stared at her, eyes wide. Still confused.
If she knew…Why wasn't she furious?
"Sylvia—"
"You're puzzled, aren't you."
"Very."
Sylvia released him from her silky embrace and she walked over to the wall where she refilled her drink. Oswald watched her, more or less keeping tabs on her liquid movements. If he'd been in her position, he'd have thrown one massive temper tantrum; the thought of her with another man was enough to ruffle his feathers and make him murderous. But Sylvia knowing that Oswald liked Ed, and her acting so…calm…That made him a little more nervous.
"How long have you known?" Oswald asked.
Sylvia shrugged, saying, "Only for a little while. Ever since he exposed Butch, you've been looking at him a little differently. Whenever he comes around, whenever he talks to you. You have that look."
"What look."
She smirked, saying, "The same one that for the longest time—up until now—you've only ever saved for me."
Well, wasn't this just a tad bit uncomfortable.
Oswald was beside himself. His face was hot; his hands were cold. There was a fleeting urge to take flight—just run past her, past her minions that were at the bottom of the staircase, and hopefully never talk about this ever again.
Sylvia, on the other hand, watched him like a predator minded its unwitting prey. What made him stand his ground so bravely was that in spite of her revealing that she'd known about his feelings for Ed, it was the way she was watching him.
She was watching him with—what was it? —Acceptance, perhaps? Acceptance, yes, but not surrender.
"I'm not angry," Sylvia said smoothly. "If that's what you're wondering."
"It's been on my mind for a minute…"
"Well, put your mind at ease: I'm not angry."
"If you're not angry, then…What are you feeling, exactly?"
Sylvia licked her lips thoughtfully, then placed her glass back on the surface. The small 'thud' of it meeting the contact point made Oswald flinch a little; why, he wasn't sure. Sylvia walked towards him, clasping her hands together and resting them on her lap.
"Shall I be blunt?"
Oswald sent her a look, saying, "When are you not brutally honest, Pigeon."
"Fair point!"
"So…?"
"I think," Sylvia said softly, "that if you love Ed, you should go after him."
He stared at her. Did he hear her correctly?
"You're kidding." Oswald muttered.
"I'm serious as a shark attack."
"What about us?"
"What about us?" Sylvia chuckled. "You love me still, don't you?"
Oswald didn't hesitate as he said quickly, "Of course I do!"
"Well, I love you too." She returned, smiling.
"I don't understand."
"Don't understand what?"
"This. You." Oswald said, gesturing to her emphatically.
"Well, how I see it, you're a man full of emotion and you have a lot of love to give," Sylvia told him gently. "You still love me a great deal, and I, of course, still love you just as much—if not more. And, if you love Ed, you should see if he feels the same way."
"And if he does?"
"Well, then, what you're looking at is a polyamorous relationship." Sylvia reasoned. She kissed his nose, adding, "Kind of like what Butch, Tabitha, and Barbara had a long time ago…except, you know, not as muddy."
Oswald stared at her, still.
"How can you be okay with this?" He asked incredulously.
"Because I love you." Sylvia told him plainly. "And, if you remember, there was a point in time where I used to like Ed as more than a friend. I can see why you'd be attracted to him, sweetheart."
Oswald frowned, asking, "You don't…?"
"I don't want Ed, honey. You do. I could love no other man but you. I don't want anyone else but you. So, if you and him became something more than friends, I'll still be over here, doing what I do best."
"And that is?"
"Killing anyone that may oppose your will, and watching you get all hot and bothered," Sylvia said mischievously. "Nothing will change except for the obvious: He'll still be the Mayor's Chief of Staff, and I'll still be Penguin's Chief of Staff—as Victor so politely articulated that. Personally, I don't want to be anything more to Ed than a friend."
"And you're alright with this…?" Oswald clarified.
"More than."
Oswald smiled when she brought her hands up so her arms were linked behind his neck. She looked up at him with a serene smile.
"You're one of the oddest women I've ever met," Oswald told her pointedly.
"Duly noted." She said with a wink. "Now, on a scale of one to ten with 'one' being calm and 'ten' being completely pissed scared, how afraid were you to tell me about Ed?"
Oswald didn't give her the satisfaction of answering, but he reckoned that Sylvia had an inkling.
"I have a favor to ask though," She said with an impish grin.
"What favor is that exactly?"
"If Ed does return your feelings and you two have a nice romantic evening together, would you care if I watched?" Sylvia asked, smirking at him.
"As a guest at dinner?" Oswald asked, once more puzzled.
"As a guest in the bedroom." Sylvia purred. She caressed his face between the palms of her hands, adding, "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little interested in seeing that."
When his face flushed a bright shade of pink, Sylvia snickered.
Now that sound, Oswald had heard plenty of times before!
"I love watching you squirm," She whispered.
There was a knock on the office door; she and Oswald looked to see that it was Victor Zsasz. He was dressed in his usual fancy black garb, his thumbs hooked under the straps that holstered two of his reliable weapons; he didn't wait to be acknowledged; he was already halfway in the office as Sylvia and Oswald separated, glancing at one another knowingly.
Victor cracked a grin, noticing that his boss was blushing. However, he said to Sylvia, "Are you ready?"
Oswald glanced at Sylvia inquisitively.
Wordlessly, she walked behind her desk, opened a drawer, and she withdrew a Glock.
"We're going after Dolores Reese," Victor explained to Oswald. "Anything in particular you want us to do with her once she hands over her debt?"
"I don't have a preference, Victor."
"I'm sure she does." The hitman drawled, grinning knowingly at Sylvia, as she came around the desk, loading her gun.
"Do you have any idea how long it has been since I killed anyone?" Sylvia questioned ironically.
"Well, I'm sure you have to let out a little steam after everything that has happened." Victor said offhandedly.
Sylvia and Oswald exchanged glances—while the two of them were trying to put the pieces back together after Csilla's burial, it wasn't easy to forget 'everything that had happened'.
"Oh, wow…" Victor muttered. "Guys, I didn't mean it like that."
"An apology from Victor Zsasz," said Sylvia, offering him a forgiving smile. "How touching."
"I'll just be…" Victor said quickly, gesturing behind him. He quickly left the office.
Sylvia turned to Oswald, who returned her knowing—but pained—expression.
"Well," He said quietly, "We can't simply pretend that it never happened."
"If we did that, it wouldn't be healthy."
"Sylvia."
"Yes?"
Oswald took the gun from her, and placed it on the desk beside them. He took her hands in his, resting them on his chest. She watched him with earnest—anticipating what he might say, but dreading the worst.
"Be safe." He cautioned.
"I'm always careful."
"Dolores Reese knows there is a bounty on her head, and she knows there's still a debt to collect. Someone who is prepared to deal with the likes of Zsasz and still chooses to live in the woods without any armed assailants is someone I'd take seriously." Oswald told her.
"If you're so worried about me, darling...Come with me." Sylvia mewed, grinning at him. "Odds are, I'm just going to kill her. Especially if she doesn't plan on coming out of this alive—Having waited for Zsasz and me to come find her instead. She'll meet the same end as Ogden Barker..."
Oswald looked as though he might decline her offer but when she kissed his jawline, her lips lingering there a little too long, he reconsidered.
"I'll bring back-up. Pull the car around." He ordered.
Sylvia grinned: "Will do, Boss."
She kissed him with the intention of just giving a peck; she let out a soft gasp when he pulled her back into a deeper kiss.
"Sweetheart," she murmured against his lips.
"Hm?"
"I...I still need to get the car."
Oswald grinned, unabashed, and released her. A flush of pink dusted her cheeks and neck as she quickly left to do as he instructed.