7:25pm, February 26; The Iceburg Lounge; Edward Nygma
He hadn't been lucky. The three places he'd seen on Saturday were abysmal. He could probably deal with being at the second one for a month or two if he absolutely had to while he looked for something more long term, but the building management wanted a six month contract and there was no way he wanted to be there that long.
And the one he'd seen on Sunday! It had been listed as 'cozy' and 'quaint' with an 'excellent view of Robinson Park'. Which meant it was a single narrow room that had enough space for a cot shoved into one corner while the exposed toilet and shower stood opposite, and you got to that end of the 'apartment' by squeezing past the over-sized counters of the galley-style kitchen. The one window at the very end led to a fire escape and it was only when you stood on the fire escape and leaned out to try and see past the corner of the building that you could just barely make out a copse of trees that may or may not have been on the edge of Robinson Park. Management insisted that it was. All that, for the same rent he was already paying each month, in addition to the privilege of having a leaking ceiling that was 'being worked on'.
After he left, he'd grabbed a Sunday paper and scoured the listings in hopes of the expanded sections having something worth looking into. He'd also picked up one of those free apartment and rental homes listings that came out weekly. He'd then spent the rest of Sunday arranging for viewings on Monday. He'd even called into work so he had the day off to look.
Of the next round of apartments, only one was decent enough to even consider and he only had until the first of the month to apply and put a deposit check in. Which meant he wasn't going to get it because he didn't get paid again after the first.
So when Tuesday hit and the guys were talking about where to go, Ed suggested the Lounge. Not because he wanted to be there with them, so much as he wanted to be at the Lounge in general. All his problems seemed smaller when he was there. And maybe talking with the guys about finding a place could help. They might have ideas on where to look or know someone that was looking to rent out a room short term.
He got to the Lounge first and snagged one of the larger booths. Not the nice one that sat behind the reserved sign. That was his and he didn't want to share it. No, just a decent sized booth on the other side of the floor. Wren greeted him with a kiss to the cheek and he ordered a round of beers for the guys so they didn't have to. They'd still have to pay, and he'd have to pay them back the next day, but his drink, at least, remained off the tab. Getting there early meant he could pretend he'd already paid for his in advance and none of them would know he got special treatment and try and ask for him to get their drinks free. He knew he would have if they asked it of him. And he also knew he didn't want to stretch Penguin's generosity by trying. So he just made sure that such a possibility wasn't going to come up.
After they arrived and the initial awkwardness he felt about asking around for apartment hunting help was burned away by three large drinks, the night bled away in a pleasant haze. He didn't tell them he was looking for a new place because he could barely afford to feed himself anymore and that the price going up would mean having to choose between heating the apartment or eating regularly. He didn't want to make them think he was trying to guilt trip them into not having to pay his share. He didn't want them to think he was asking for handouts either. He just said his landlord was being a skinflint and scrooging him, which was true.
Like true friends, they were sympathetic and said they'd ask around. They got into talking about what places he'd already seen and what he was looking for. They even commiserated with him about how shitty they all were. Even knowing he'd have to drop another hundred and sixty or so to Flass in addition to the usual two fifty, he was feeling good by the end of the night. His friends cared about him.
9:34pm; The Iceburg Lounge; Thomas Choi
"Hey, that whole thing with Nygma might have just been solved," he said, sliding into the booth with the next round of beers.
"Oh, yeah?" Tom asked, taking two of them - one for himself and one for Ed - and setting them on his side of the table. Jacobs and Flass had just called it a night and left the three of them to finish up.
Choi took a long pull and nodded, "Yeah. Overheard him and that bird that likes him talking. She offered to let him move in with her."
"Holy shit, really? Damn, things must be getting serious."
"Yeah. Surprised the hell out of me. Was pretty sure he'd said she wasn't interested."
Tom snorted, "Eh, you know how women are. They don't know what they want until you tell 'em what they want. And she's been all over him for a while now."
"Yeah. That's true," Choi agreed. "Thought maybe she was just trying to milk him for extra tips or something, myself. But asking him to move in? She's got it bad."
"Honestly didn't think he had it in him."
"To get a girl?"
"To get a girl that hot without paying by the hour."
They laughed and Tom leaned out to see if he could spot Ed coming back and choked on his beer, "Oh shit, I think you're right."
Choi stood to get a better look through the crowd and saw Ed and the bird hugging. He sat back down and held his beer out for Tom to toast, "To Ed getting laid."
"To Ed getting laid and his housing problem solved."
9:34pm; The Iceburg Lounge; Wren
"Just for a few weeks, until you find a place," she offered, running her hand down his arm from shoulder to elbow and back again. "We have a fold out couch."
Ed shook his head, "I don't think that would be... It really shouldn't be necessary. And I don't want to intrude on you. Besides, I'm certain I can find a place. I just have to put more work into it. I've only been looking for a few days."
"Yeah, but you don't have that long to find one," she frowned. At this point she'd had to face the fact that she liked Ed. As a person. As a friend. And offering her couch was going far and away beyond the job she'd been given by Mr. Cobblepot. She wasn't even sure it was safe to do so. But she'd already talked to Rockhopper about it and her girlfriend was okay with it. She didn't know Ed nearly as well as Wren, of course, but they trusted each other.
Ed smiled at her, then pulled her into a hug, "Thank you. But I'm fine. Really. If anything, I think I'm probably going to need a storage space more."
She held him tight for a couple seconds and when she released him, she grinned brightly, "That, I know I can help with. Well, Arnie can. Talk to him before you leave and he can ask Mr. Penn for some pricing on storage lots. Get you the 'family' discount."
"Oh... you mean..." he started and she pressed a finger to his lips to stop him.
"You know exactly what I mean. And don't act like you're surprised, either. Lying doesn't become you, Mr. Nygma." She waited to smile until he smiled at her, sheepish. At this point, with his own interest in speaking to Mr. Cobblepot any time he could manage to get even two minutes in the Crime Lord's presence - which wasn't nearly as often as she knew he'd liked - any pretenses of not knowing what sort of friends he'd made could, and should, be thrown to the wayside. And it wasn't like he was bothered by what that meant, either. If anything, he seemed fascinated in the extreme. Excited by the danger. Not so thrilled by the possibility of getting hurt, but not deterred by it, either.
No wonder she liked him.
10pm; The Iceburg Lounge; Oswald Cobblepot
"Thank you for your report, Mr. Wesker," he said, leaning back in his chair, but not yet dismissing the man. He knew Wren was growing attached to Nygma. She was good at faking certain things, which was why she was so valuable to him and why he'd picked her to see to the man's needs. She was just the sort to be able to get under a man's skin and make him trust her. But continued exposure to him had seen her lose her professionalism.
He just hadn't realized how quickly it had eroded.
Wesker bringing to him the nature of her request had shed some unexpected light on the matter. It wasn't as though providing a secure enough storage lot for a cheap price would be any trouble, of course. But offering it was outside the bounds of her duties and the expectations placed on her. Particularly when Nygma himself wasn't part of the family.
Officially.
"The loyalty you've shown tonight will be rewarded," he continued after a few more moments of thought. "When you speak to Mr. Penn about the storage units, tell him I said to make arrangements for your promotion to Executive VIP Liaison."
They didn't have a VIP Liaison position at the club. But if Wren was going to start acting outside of her orders, he wanted someone he could trust to monitor what she did. And clearly Wesker was trustworthy in that regard. He'd taken the threat of his own death to heart.
Whether or not Wren was digging her own grave, Oswald had yet to decide. That, he supposed, would have to be determined once he decided what to do about Nygma. So far his people had yet to find anything significant or worthy of note about the man save that he was apparently fairly terrible with his finances. A conclusion at odds with what Oswald himself had seen of him. The night he'd been working out his budget he'd seemed meticulous about it. However, The man who'd gone through his mail said he had a lot of bills that were coming past-due and some other notices, including one for his rent going up.
"Did she mention why he needed a storage unit," he asked just as Wesker reached the door. Just in case it had relevance.
Wesker paused and turned around, hands folding behind his back, "He's moving."
"So it's just a short term request?"
"I would assume so, sir."
He let out a soft 'mmmmm' and waved Wesker off in a final dismissal. Perhaps the problems with money they'd found had to do with the rent change. He'd ask about the move when they next spoke. See if Nygma would be receptive to an offer to lighten the load, so to speak. He didn't know the man well enough to know if it'd be taken in good faith or as an insult. And he would rather not insult him.