Three weeks.
It took her another full seven days, a total of 168 hours, or 10080 minutes to conjure up a plan.
And it wasn't even a brilliant plan. Although some people liked to equate brilliance with simplicity and if she recalled it correctly, one of her favourite teachers had once said that everything was fine as long as it worked.
Three weeks after he had left her flat without another word, Sophie sent Victor Zsasz a text and invited him over for dinner.
And she didn't do so eloquently. In fact, her text had only consisted of the very word, followed by an adverb of time and a question mark.
He liked food, she liked having him around, so asking him if he wanted to come over for dinner seemed like a decent idea.
Sophie had anticipated that he would either take hours to reply or not reply at all. It frankly wouldn't have surprised her if he had not dignified her text with an answer and still turned up on her doorstep the next night.
Instead, her phone buzzed approximately five seconds after she had hit the 'send'-button with her heart beating frantically.
He had agreed.
It was funny how quickly her anxiety-stricken and hopeless self could turn back into someone who did not only resemble a functioning adult, but also a beaming one.
Sometimes, when you meet the universe with a wide smile on your lips, it shows itself to be kind and generous. Other times, it hits you in the face. To Sophie, whether her day was good or bad usually seemed to be an arbitrary matter. Today, however, she had a good day.
At work, she managed to pry out the recipe for the best pizza she had ever eaten from one of her co-workers. At home, she managed to retrieve her grandmother's recipe for her favourite blueberry muffins. She finished her grocery shopping with lighting speed and was sure that she, although they hadn't exactly appointed a time, was in no need to rush.
Sophie skipped between feeling a thrill of anticipation or nervousness and a somewhat relaxed optimism. She would see Victor Zsasz again tonight, they would probably not talk this out, but she would apologize and tell him that she won't ever try to intervene in his job again – and everything would go back to normal. Well, back to as normal as things could be with Victor Zsasz.
While working in the kitchen of the restaurant, Sophie had somehow forgotten how much fun she used to have working in her own kitchen. Cooking and baking had been something that put her mind at ease when she did it herself and one of her favourite activities with friends.
The smell of food that spread throughout her apartment made her mouth water. It smelled divine and she was sure that he was going to love it.
Outside, Gotham's skyline looked the motive fit for a postcard. The evening sun had almost finished its descend and left the sky in beautiful shades of pink, grey, and blue. Sophie fixed herself a cup of tea and made herself comfortable in front of her window to take in the scenery with a smile on her face as she waited.
In the next few hours, the sky went from the light pastel colours to a darker blue and finally a black that was dark enough to fit her mood.
Only when the clock told her that it was 11PM, Sophie knew that Victor Zsasz wouldn't come.
Maybe he was busy with work. Maybe he had forgotten about the dinner. Or maybe he didn't want to see her again.
She would have loved to believe that there was still a chance that he might turn up in her apartment, perhaps at one or two in the morning, without an apology, to devour the food she had made.
But staying up far beyond her bed time for the small likelihood of this case seemed pathetic to her. She could have texted him again and asked him if he was still planning on coming, but she was both too proud and too insecure for that. She didn't want to seem needy. She didn't want to let him know how much being stood up by him hurt her.
Swallowing down some her pride, she produced a piece of paper and a pen and left him a note to please wake her up next to the food on her kitchen counter before she went to brush her teeth and wash the make-up off her face.
Sophie laid awake until the early morning hours, either restlessly tossing herself around in bed or listening intently for a sound a much-expected nightly visitor would make.
The next day, Sophie fought the urge to throw the untouched food away and instead forced herself to eat one of the muffins. But what had used to be her favourite treat and always brought up memories of a careless childhood now tasted like ashes.
"You look horrible, Sophie."
Gina's bright green eyes were shadowed by the same concern that had been evident in her voice. While Sophie had definitely lacked the motivation to leave house after being stood up last night, she had also lacked the energy to say 'no' when Gina had insisted that they'd meet for a coffee outside because it would have been a shame to not enjoy the unusual sunny day.
In her current mindset, the beautiful weather seemed to mock her. It would have been more appropriate if the city had been shaded by its usual mixture of grey clouds, fog, and fumes. Instead, the sky had taken on a lovely baby blue and an unfamiliar round, yellow thing had decided to make an appearance in what seemed to be fist time of the year.
"I think I'm having a rough week" No, wait, make that three.
"Would you like to talk about it?"
She briefly considered it, she really did, but the echo of her friend's voice, talking about the psychopath Victor Zsasz was still present in her ears. Even if it would have lifted the rock on her chest to finally share her secret with the person who had undoubtedly become her best friend, Sophie just couldn't bring herself to open her mouth and to formulate the words. It would have felt like betrayal.
They sat in silence for a couple of minutes in which Sophie tried to blink away the tears that were starting to gather in the corner of her eyes and bit her quivering lip. She focused on her breathing and let out a long exhale before slowly shaking her head.
"No, I'm sorry, I can't" she mumbled.
"Don't worry about it, but please know that I'm here if you ever need someone to talk to." Gina said in a tone that sounded like she had just sworn an oath. I really shouldn't feel sorry for myself as long as I've got friends like that.
"You know what, let's go for a walk!" And once again, Gina was back to her light-hearted self that Sophie had always found so very contagious. She couldn't help the ghost of a smile appearing on her face.
"So, I was thinking" her friend started with an excited smile on her face "I could show you what I like to do when I'm feeling sad."
And with this, Sophie found herself dragged along into the Narrows to learn that her friend was one of those people who might actually be too good for the world.
"Are you doing this regularly?" Sophie couldn't think of a better thing to ask, still staring at the Soup Kitchen sign.
"Mh, I used to do it more often some time ago. Now, it's only like once or twice a month. It's not as altruistic as it looks. I just find that if you feel helpless, it can be helpful to try and help others."
Strangely, Gina seemed embarrassed. And, even more strangely, Sophie discovered that her friend was right about that last bit.
It wasn't really any different to what Sophie did in her job, it just somehow felt better to chop vegetables and scrub pans without getting paid for it.
Plus, it was nice to have a normal conversation for once. They talked about their jobs, her novel, a guy Gina had a thing for and their families.
Moreover, Gina had been keeping up with the news lately and told Sophie about everything she had been missing for the last couple of weeks. Apparently, she too was very interested in the impact Sofia could have on the city. With awe in her voice, Gina told her that Miss Falcone had gotten injured by a serial killer during a charity event she had hosted because she, heroically, stood up against him. Not only was this woman kind-hearted, she was also brave.
While hearing her friend praising Gotham's new celebrity made Sophie smile since it meant that they both shared the same gut feeling, it also made her flinch. But the feeling of guilt that had sneaked into her consciousness was something she could suppress within a couple of seconds.
It's not like anyone could stop Victor from doing anything. If he is told to kill Sofia Falcone, he will, there's nothing I can do about it, so why feel bad?
She barely heard it when Gina told her that many people had stopped volunteering here because the man who had attacked Sofia Falcone broke out of Arkham only several days ago. The former volunteers were scared to return to the soup kitchen because the escapee had killed several homeless people and served them as pie. Their fear of being near people who might be targeted again outweighed their desire to help.
"I feel like it's now more important than ever to not be scared by all the terrible things that are happening. We have to show strength and solidarity, or else awful people like the pyg-guy and Zsasz win."
The notion of Victor's name instantly made her shift her attention back to Gina. For a brief second, Sophie had to fight the urge to tell her that Victor Zsasz did not have an opinion about anyone volunteering to feed homeless people. She doubted that Cobblepot did either, there didn't seem to be any profit that could be harvested from it.
But there was no way she would ever discuss this with her best friend, or anyone else. She forced herself to stop thinking gloomy thoughts about Victor. Instead, she decided to use the quality time with Gina as a welcome distraction and directed the conversation to easier topics.
22 days.
Sophie was surprised when her favourite criminal let himself in in the evening. If she hadn't felt as horrible as she did, if she had slept well and oozed confidence, she would have mockingly asked him if he had gotten the date wrong.
But now, all she could think of was how tired and sad and unappealing she probably looked and how unprepared she was, both mentally and physically, to face Victor Zsasz. Her train of thought nervously circulated around herself until she finally registered that the figure who opened her door hadn't walked on towards his usual spot on her sofa, but still stood in her hallway, unmoving.
Her heart sank as she took in his appearance. He looked utterly and hopelessly lost. His eyes looked frantic and darker than ever and the contrast to his pale skin was further underlined by the dark rings under his eyes. Apparently, his night had been rougher than hers.
With ease, Sophie recalled how healthy he had looked in those weeks in which he had visited her regularly. How happy and relaxed he had always seemed.
Something must have happened. He looks like shit.
"Victor?" she asked carefully as she slowly approached him. But the bald man did not reply, in fact, he didn't even look at her.
"Victor?", she tried again in what she hoped to be a sympathetic voice when she stopped in front of him. "What's wrong?" Sophie hated how meek her voice sounded. She would have preferred to sound calm and strong.
But apparently, her tone did not matter. It was as if he hadn't heard her at all and his eyes were seeing right through her.
Maybe he's ill?
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Sophie raised her hand. She didn't dare touching his forehead, not when he's conscious, but instead reached to gently touch his shoulder.
Once her fingers made contact with the fabric of his vest, he snapped out of whatever had kept him in its grip.
With a motion far too quick for her to grasp, he grabbed both her wrists in an uncomfortably firm grip and suddenly, Sophie found herself slammed against the wall with her wrists pressed against the smooth surface over her head.
The impact didn't hurt her, in fact, she didn't even feel it. What she felt was the way his body pressed against hers, and the way the pressure of his iron grip on her wrists was outdone by the tingling sensation of his skin touching hers.
There wasn't really a coherent thought in her head. Sophie wasn't sure if she was scared shitless or excited. She wasn't sure if he would hurt her or kiss her. Both appeared to be equally likely. What she could tell for sure was that, for once, the hitman had lost his cool.
Being terrified of Victor Zsasz was a sensation she had been glad to slowly overcome in the course of their acquaintance. That she could be pushed back to square one this quickly seemed utterly unfair to her. Yet, fear was not the only thing she felt, fear wasn't even the predominant element in her current state. She felt powerless, at his mercy. And to her surprise, she found that as exciting as unsettling.
With her hypothalamus sending masses of dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin through her system, her knees felt weak and her head felt foggy. In what felt like a daze, she fixed her dilated eyes on his.
His eyes disturbed her, the usually cold orbs that sometimes showed a brief twinkle of mischief were now burning with a mixture of pain, rage and madness. Numbly, Sophie registered that she had never seen so many emotions in them. She couldn't remember the last time she had seen something so captivating.
She couldn't look away, couldn't ban the concern out of her mind and eyes. Her racing mind took note of the absence of facial hair, even of eyelashes and how the dark circles under his eyes now seemed worse than ever, almost purple, contrasting with his pale complexion. She felt his odourless, warm breath on her face and, for a split-second, her gaze flickered towards his lips.
Sophie had never been kissed like this before. Victor Zsasz wasn't a gentle kisser and the ferocity with which his lips met hers sent fire through her veins and burnt away every rational thought that her brain might have produced. Butterflies would have been too weak of a metaphor to describe the sensation she felt in her stomach. It was like she melted away, and when her wobbly legs forgot that they were supposed to ensure that she remained on her feet, his rough grip on her wrists ensured that she didn't fall.
The kiss could have lasted seconds or minutes, she had no idea, but she knew that she would have loved it to last forever. She would have loved to wrap her arms around him to pull him even closer, to close any last bit of space that might have remained in between him, to grip his shoulders and feel his muscles under her fingers, to touch every bit of him that she might reach.
And, once he stopped kissing her and she opened her eyes to see that the agony was still as evident on his face as before, Sophie wished that he would let go of her wrists so that she could lock him in her arms and hold him. So that she could provide him any kind of comfort.
"Victor" she whispered, painfully aware of how their faced were still so close that her lips almost brushed against his. And although her whisper had been barely audible, it apparently had been enough to ruin the moment.
Neither being shoved into the wall nor the way he had bruised her wrists hurt Sophie as much as when he let go of her and stepped back. She missed the warmth of his body the second he deprived her of it. Her arms uselessly dropped to her sides and she had to lean against the wall in order to regain her balance.
When he took another step back, she reached out lightly grabbed his lower arm. He looked down on her hand for a couple of seconds and when his gaze fixed back on her face, he seemed more composed. The madness had left his eyes, but there still remained endless depths full of anger and anguish.
Victor Zsasz did not allow her to further drown in his eyes, instead he took a step back so that Sophie's arm remained in the air empty-handedly, touching nothing.
Sophie would have expected him to leave, to flee her apartment without another word, but maybe he had not only registered the concern and sadness in her eyes, but also felt affected by it. Or maybe he hadn't, and she was, as always, inept when it came to reading him or predicting his actions.
Be that as it may, when he said that he had to go it had almost sounded apologetic.