At breakfast - which they can take nice and slow now that she had woken them up so early - Lee asks Edward about his trip to Gotham.
"Well . . ." He poses dramatically. "Oswald treated me to The Riddle Factory."
"No way!"
"Yes, he didn't just recover our bodies from The Narrows, but my props, too."
He goes on to tell her how he had changed the rules of the game for the special event, putting himself on the line as well.
"Okay Mr. Smarty Pants, what would you have done had you lost and gotten your kneecap busted, your hands chopped off, or set on fire? Did you even think about that?" She's trying to sound playful, but she comes off sounding a little worried.
He smiles, bearing most of his teeth. With the utmost confidence he says, "I would not have lost."
"Oh, the arrogance!" Lee shakes her head in mock disgust but then leans forward. "But what if you HAD?"
"I had a plan."
"Oh, you did? Good. You're not as reckless as I thought. What was it?"
"Well . . . I had it rigged so that if I ever had to take a spin on The Wheel itself it would land on Rabid Sack of Rats - my favorite."
"What!? You'd give yourself rabies."
He winks and says, "I figured you could heal me."
"Is that so?" Lee's eyes narrow. "And where the hell did you expect me to get my hands on rabies shots now that Gotham's fallen?"
He smiles devilishly. "I was hoping you would be sufficiently motivated to figure something out."
Lee raises an eyebrow.
"Because you love me. . ." he whispers.
"Okay, lemme get this straight . . . You were expecting me to prove my love to you by procuring rabies shots?"
He shrugs. "There are worse ways."
She groans and rolls her eyes.
"Oswald has a new friend."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, he's a good guy. William. Used to be a professor, but now he's a Pharaoh."
"Only in Gotham." Lee shakes her head.
"Yeah," he answers. Only in Gotham.
"I took Ancient Egyptian history as a minor in college," Lee says. "I was always fascinated with their interpretation of the underworld and how people believed death worked in ancient times."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
"Huh."
"What?" Lee asks.
"It's just that after William regaled us with fantastical tales about how he built the Sphinx - he's delusional, did I mention that? - he started talking about his Scarab Army and what basically amounts to buttermilk zombies."
"Buttermilk zombies?" Lee tries to hold back a snort. "What are those?"
"Well, if you hear William tell it, they're real. He claims he's been bringing bodies back from the dead. And Gotham has so many bodies. . ."
"That's for sure. So, how does he do it?"
"The secret, my dear, is buttermilk," Edward imitates William, leaning in with one eyebrow cocked and all.
She laughs.
"No, seriously, he claims that the secret ingredient is buttermilk. Something about the acid it produces after it's gone sour and the fact that it originates as life-giving milk."
"Do you believe him?"
"I'm not sure . . ."
"So it's not a delusion."
"I don't think so," Edward says carefully. "But I'd like to see him re-animate a corpse first - watch the process myself. If he can do as he claims -"
"You might uncover something you can use against Professor Strange and his army of monsters," Lee finishes his sentence for him.
"Precisely."