Gotham's Discontent
Chapter Twenty-One: Old Rivals
Breakfast at the Galavan table had been much more invigorating than Deedee had experienced in the last four days, owing to the fact that the company was more inviting than the Mayor in a Box whom whimpered throughout the meal or otherwise stayed silent, lest Tabitha let Deedee have a whack at him. The overall feeling at the table was the familiar return of camaraderie minus the missing bureaucrat (Poor Sionis, the arrogant charms-man), but Deedee hadn't realized how much she had missed them until they were seated directly across from her, with her brother sitting by her side—almost the same seating arrangement that they had taken while at Arkham.
Greenwood and Dobbs, the pair of them in reconnaissance of the tales as old as time, exchanged stories of the murders that they had committed. Deedee gave Dobbs some credit; although his particular sprees were heinous as any of them came due to the nature of his crimes, at least they didn't start out the same way—This one time, I was eating this lady; this one time, I was following this woman, she was kind of a skank—
"Have you ever tried to kill a man, Greenwood?" Deedee asked casually, looking up from her bowl of eggs, sausage and bacon. She held the fork steady in her hand, half-tempted to slam it into Greenwood's hand, for the man had spoken of his tales of carnage for almost thirty minutes: same story, different woman.
She saw a smirk tug at the corner of Jerome's mouth as he took a long sip of orange juice from his glass.
Greenwood looked at her, caught mid-sentence and mid-bite of a biscuit. "I could, but what's the fun in that?"
"What's the fun in killing a woman who won't fight back?" asked Deedee. "You're a predator. Not a killer. Like a fox sneaking into the hen house."
Greenwood frowned. Deedee didn't drop her gaze. She wondered if he had become salty over the fact that she got to Laura Greenburg first; he had been intent on eating her. Greenwood puffed out his chest,
"All right, Deedee. I'll bite—"
"—No doubt," Deedee jibed.
"What's your problem?" Greenwood said. As quickly as he had pushed out his chair to step to Deedee, Jerome stepped out of his seat and held a steak knife to Greenwood's throat.
Where the escalation to threatening of violence might have discouraged a breakfast table of civilized people, there was no disruption any of the guests seated at this one. Tabitha's gaze didn't flinch nor wander; though she was watching Deedee carefully, to see exactly what she'd do. Galavan's gaze, however, was on the tension between Jerome and Greenwood; and considering the overall fascination across the faces at the table, it was easy to surmise that it had crossed over from their stint in Arkham.
Jerome wore an expression of mixed delight and annoyance; he wore a wide smile on his face, but his dark eyes glinted with malice. He had no real problem with Greenwood, Deedee knew, except for the fact that Greenwood's issue never revolved around the other men. It was just Deedee.
However, Deedee pushed out her chair, glanced the scrutinizing eyes of Tabitha and her brother, and raised a hand to lower Jerome's knife away from Greenwood's face.
"My 'problem'," said Deedee, curiously calm, "is that you may have killed a dozen women, but none of them were an actual threat. If you killed 12 female officers, I'd be impressed. If you killed a dozen of women like Tabby"—Deedee grinned— "I'd be impressed. But the women that you're talking about were little girls walking down the sidewalk, heading home to watch television and eat a bowl of ice cream after working in an office job—"
"Some of them put up a fight," said Greenwood. "And I terrorized the city—"
"Because you eat people," said Deedee, and she jabbed her finger hard into his chest. "You're a creep. It's weird."
"Now, now," said Galavan from his seat, "it's barely the first day, and I need you cooperative."
"He stepped to me like he's gonna fight me," said Deedee, easily rounding on Galavan, whom raised an eyebrow when she didn't drop the issue. "Well, how about it, Robert?"
Greenwood gave a loud guffaw, "You are one crazy bitch. You kill two people and suddenly you're a living legend, huh?"
Deedee snorted, "Well, actually, I set a fucking circus tent on fire with people still in it, so I'm pretty sure the body count just went up."
Greenwood stepped forward; Deedee didn't back down. Aaron leaned in with bated breath as a child would during the climax of an action movie; Barbara yawned; Dobbs uttered an ominous "Ooh"; and Jerome, still standing, watching the confrontation with his hand still holding the steak knife. If Greenwood made the wrong move…
"All right," Tabitha drawled. "Sit back down. Now is not the time, children."
Theo was smiling, "I see that we're all just a bit tired after this morning's reunion. Why, our guests still are dressed in their Arkham uniforms—long, long day. Don't you agree, Tabitha?"
"Of course," said Tabitha.
Deedee pursed her lips in disgust. They wouldn't abide it if she took one swing at Greenwood without their say-so. Not without their permission. Outside of the ring, Deedee knew—truly—that she would have tried to take him out, even if Greenwood was big and burly and could probably stick at least two licks into her before she could get a hold of him. Balling her hands into tight fists, Deedee mustered a very tight smile.
"Riight…" she hissed, staring down Greenwood. "We must be tired, eh, Robert?"
"Right," he replied back, though Deedee could tell that he felt the same. Not without permission.
"Jerome," said Galavan suddenly, "How about you let your sister show you to your room? I'm certain that tension will dilute once everyone's had time to rest."
"If it's anything better than Arkham, things are looking up," said Jerome. "Deedee."
Deedee's tight smile burrowed deep into her cheeks.
"Deedee," said Jerome once more pointedly. "Honey."
The sound of his softened, but demanding tone pulled Deedee's gaze from Greenwood, and she slowly turned, looking at him. He was the voice of reason, and although Jerome might have found it entertaining to watch his sister take on the annoying cannibal, it wasn't worth the consequences that Sionis had faced. At least, it wasn't worth dying for. Jerome turned to his host and hostess,
"This was fun." And he meant it.
"Tabby," said Galavan, suddenly cheerful, "Why don't you show Barbara to her room? The commodities are especially kind to women here. Tabitha's got a taste for décor, Barbara," he added as if he were a realtor giving the tour. "I'll show Aaron and Dobbs their rooms. We'll all get settled in and then resume business tomorrow. That sounds delightful, doesn't it?"
Deedee gave him a half-smile, mildly amused by Galavan's pleasant deposition—Still weird to see that sort of thing outside of Arkham. Jerome placed a gentle hand along the small of her back, leading her away from the table and toward the spiral staircase. As they headed up the stairs, they heard Barbara say,
"Is anyone going to have any coffee? I'd give my right hand for a latte."