9:10am, February 21; 805 Grundy; Edward Nygma
"Please, Mr. Nivens," he hurried to follow after his landlord as the man headed for the next door on the floor, "I've been a tenant since I moved to Gotham and I don't think it's overstating anything to say I've been an exemplary one. And I fully understand the market changes and property taxes mean you have to increase rent every so often, but I feel a hundred and fifteen more a month is just too much of a burden to put on your current residents and-"
"Mr. Nygma," Nivens interrupted, giving a frustrated sigh, "We've had this conversation already. You have seven days to sign the new lease agreement. Otherwise, I'll need you out by the fifteenth. That's a good twenty and more days to find another place if you feel the cost of living here is so unfair."
When he opened his mouth to protest, Nivens continued, "And if you attempt to have this conversation a third time, you not have the option of signing a new lease agreement. I am not in the mood to indulge this further. I have other residents to speak to."
Ed's lips pressed together and he had to force his hands to relax at his side where they'd curled into too-tight fists, hard enough that his short nails dug angry red furrows into his palms. He examined them to avoid glaring at his landlord and figured they'd probably be sore for an hour but were fine otherwise.
Once he was back in his apartment, he started grumbling to himself and pacing the length of the floor.
"Seven days to sign. Oh, yes. That's entirely reasonable. Give us notice of changes during the shortest month of the year and don't be open to negotiations because you're too greedy to care about giving anyone time to actually find a new place or not."
He seethed for a bit more until the fight and anger drained out of him. He had nothing to spend it on and was largely resigned to the reality of his life at the moment. He'd have to find a new apartment. Three weeks wasn't much time, but at least he had that long to try.
"Alright. Today's plan. Get to work. Pick up paper at lunch. Check listings. Go back to work. Head to the Lounge. Get dinner there and make some initial calls. Try to set up some tours for Saturday and Sunday. I'm sure there are plenty of good buildings with rates that are more in my budget."
Satisfied with the plan of action, he forced a smile and readied himself to go.
5:21pm, February 21; The Iceburg Lounge; Edward Nygma
Settling in at his table - one of the larger booths on the main floor that, during his first few visits, were always cordoned off with a 'reserved' sign - he pulled the paper he'd acquired at lunch out and scanned over the listings again. Wren brought him a drink and sat down next to him. She curled in against his side, one arm resting on his shoulder so she could run her fingers through his hair. The other laid so her hand was resting on his forearm while he leaned forward over the paper and made notes in his notebook.
He'd gotten very used to her being so tactile across the last couple weeks. She was a physically affectionate person, he'd found. Something he'd never really experienced before. And while he understood it probably looked quite sexual from an outside perspective - certainly the guys took it that way the one time they'd walked in to find her keeping him company in that matter before joining him for the evening - it was as far from that as possible. She had a girlfriend. She'd been very clear she wasn't interested in him 'carnally'. She just liked to touch.
"I ordered dinner for you," she said as she got comfortable, leaning her head towards his and looking down at what he was doing. "Rib-eye with a red-wine mushroom sauce. Roasted green beans and red potatoes to compliment. And..."
She darted forward to bite at his earlobe, tugging it playfully just enough to draw his attention away from the paper and to her, "you haven't said hello yet. What's up?"
He lifted his head and turned, her ploy working to break his focus for a moment, "Oh. Sorry. Hello." He set his pen down and pushed his glasses up, giving her a smile. "My landlord is increasing the rent on my apartment, so I'm looking for a new one. I'm hoping to find something nearer to work, too. When I first moved to the city, it was to finish my degree at GCU. So I got a place close to my campus. I'd managed to get an internship at Wayne Research Group, before it was folded into their Biotech and Medical divisions, that gave me a full ride scholarship so long as I moved to the city and agreed to seek employment here. It was part of an educational revitalization effort since so many STEM collegiates were moving away after graduation."
"Oh yeah, I remember hearing about that," she said, giving a short laugh. "My mom wanted me to apply for it, but it would have meant going into some stuffy area of study I had no interest in. They didn't have those sorts of scholarships for English degrees when I was going for my associates. General ones, sure, but..." She shrugged, whatever she'd felt about it at the time had long left her. "Besides, I ended up having way more fun and making a lot more money at Pandora's Box. At least for the first couple years. I kind of miss it some times, but I get better compensation here and any extra 'talent' training I want to pursue gets paid for so long as I can convince Mr. Gilzean it's worth the effort."
Ed settled his chin on his hands. They'd had quite a few conversations about hobbies and interests outside of work, Wren's girlfriend, Ed's failed love life and the beautiful Ms. Kringle who he pined for but could no longer justify attempting to get the attention of because she was happy with Flass and Flass was a friend and going after a friend's girl was wrong and all that... But this was the first time Wren had brought up her schooling or previous jobs... or even what she did at the Lounge that wasn't just serving drinks.
"Talent training? That sounds interesting," he decided to lead with that before asking about Pandora's Box. He'd heard about the club, of course. More than a few crimes had been committed there and at least one of them had been a murder. He'd never been inside and the murder wasn't one he'd taken part in investigating since the club operated out of a spot on the north island, far from Central's jurisdiction.
"Oh, yeah," she grinned, face lighting up. "I haven't told you about that? Gosh, that's one of the best benefits of working here. See, Mr. Cobblepot wants the Lounge to be a 'singularly unique experience'." She spread her hands, quoting the line often written on what few advertisements the club put out. "Part of that is ensuring every member of the service staff can offer more than just quality service. Like... We have a girl, Dove, you haven't met her, who's about three hundred fifty pounds. When she auditioned, most of the other candidates were making fun of her for her weight and were sure she'd be laughed out of the room by Mr. Cobblepot himself. It's kind of a thing that he prefers the birds to blend in, be as much a part of the scenery as the tables and chairs, until we're needed. And most people assume that means we're meant to blend in with each other."
She reached over and picked up his drink, taking a sip before she passed it over to him, "But what it really means is that we have to be able to go unnoticed until we're needed. Size doesn't count towards that. Anyway, she did decently enough during the interview with Mr. Penn and had enough experience with serving tables at small diners that she could reasonably do well at the job. Not a difficult feat, most candidates make it through the preliminary part of the audition process. But then!"
And she got really excited, biting at a lip and turning to face him, her hands becoming quite animated, "She gets in front of Mr. Cobblepot and he asks her if she has any talents. He does this with everyone. He doesn't suggest talents for them to have or direct their thoughts one way or the other. He just asks them if they have any and if they do, to show him. So she says yeah, she does, and asks if one of the security guys could come over and help her.
"Mr. Cobblepot sends Butch up. He stands there for a second while she gets in front of him, then she grabs him by the head," Wren was laughing now, "And pulls him down to knee him in the groin. And when he's doubled over, she pushes him on the ground and... I kid you not, she sits on him. And tells him to 'try and get up'. He starts struggling to push her off and she reaches over and flicks his ear. And keeps doing it until he finally tells her he gives up."
She's barely able to breath through the laughter at this point, but does her best to finish, "And she just looks down at him, all unimpressed, crosses her arms, and says 'that's what I thought'. Mr. Cobblepot hired her on the spot. She was one of only two people to make it through that round of auditions, too. Right now, she only works Fridays and Saturdays and when Mr. Cobblepot needs extra security for a private party. He's since paid for her to take classes in more traditional martial arts and small guns. I think she'll be learning large guns in a few months, after the semester is over. She's working on a degree in nursing."
"So... talents is just... whatever might be useful for the job?"
"Oh yeah. Or make the experience for customers interesting and different in some way. Like, anyone named after a songbird can generally sing and do so decently, but it's Canary and Lark that are concert-trained."
"That means you can sing?"
She nodded, "Sure can, but it's nothing like them. My personal talents are in being seductive and discreet."
"And," he drawled out, "...you used to work for a sex club."
Wren let out an exaggerated fake gasp, "Mr. Nygma! I am shocked and appalled by that accusation. The Foxglove is a sex club. Pandora's Box is strictly a BDSM club. Sex was never on the menu for my clients. A lot of spankings, though."
Ed blushed and looked down. That was an area of life he hadn't really looked into outside of a few articles he'd read here and there when the papers decided to run something on the more scandalous side to drum up business and get people talking.
Wren settled back against him and leaned in to nuzzle his cheek, teasing him, "You're so cute when you're red like that."
The conversation largely devolved from there with her teasing him some more until it was time to grab his meal from the back and bring him another drink. She did ease off once he was eating and again after, allowing him to make the calls he was wanting to make, dropping opinions about the listings he'd circled and which ones sounded better than others. By the end of the night, he'd managed to arrange for four tours along the weekend. If he was lucky, one of them would work out.