Chapter Twenty-Five: Oswald's Threat
Disclaimer/Author's Note: I apologize for my absence. Got burnt out and needed to take a mini-vacation from the story, but now I'm back. Thank you for your patience, lovelies. Much love! Muah!
It was around 5 pm, nearing dinner time. Oswald had every intention of making tonight a 'quiet' one. After all that had happened with Fish, including Sylvia being taken hostage for a time, a quiet dinner seemed more than warranted.
That thought left preemptively when he stepped inside the living room to see Sylvia sitting on one end of the couch; on the next cushion was a guest sitting right beside her. Her guest was a young man who wore heavy bandages on his right forearm, the outcome from an incident where he'd proven his loyalty to her by means of bloodshed.
Seeing the person who had teamed up with Delilah in an effort to destroy everything in his life sitting in the same room, Oswald's temper flared as he entered, glancing between the two of them before he called attention to himself.
Sylvia and Demetri, hearing him, turned their heads in his direction. While Sylvia had little to no response, Demetri quickly stood, looking ready to answer for whatever sins he had committed as Oswald rounded the couch, placing an appropriate amount of distance between them.
While glaring at Demetri, Oswald addressed Sylvia: "Is everything all right, dear?"
"Everything is fine, Oz. Demetri was discharged from the hospital."
"Yes, sir, I'm—"
"Quiet. I wasn't talking to you, was I?"
Demetri shook in his jeans, looking between the two Cobblepots—at one with discomfort and fear in his eyes, at the other with the hope that Sylvia would defend him, vouch for his efforts and his reborn loyalty.
In his own right, Oswald was not an intimidating figure, but he was dangerous. Even though he stood in front of Demetri, bearing an inch or two less in height difference, no gun raised, his glare was enough to make Demetri fold on sight. Oswald had beaten the shit out of people for giving him bad news when he was already in a sour mood…why would Demetri's death warrant anything different.
"Sweetheart—"
"Sylvia, I'm going to have a frank discussion with your staff member. Whether you are present for that or not is irrelevant to me; you're more than welcome to attend if that's your pleasure, but I'm going to have a chat with Mr. Byrd, regardless of what you decide. I doubt I have to explain the nature of the discussion to you." Oswald said her calmly, although the smile that reached his mouth was one of obvious dislike for the man before him.
"A heart-to-heart?" Sylvia said amusedly. She clasped her hands together, adding, "I'm starting to become a fan of those."
"Miss Sylvia…" Demetri stammered nervously.
Sylvia patted his shoulder reassuringly as she stood, saying, "You'll be fine, kid. Oswald, I'm going to talk to Olga in regards to dinner plans. Is there anything you'd like in particular?"
"You know me well enough, Pigeon. Surprise me."
"I'll surprise with you nothing. How would you like that?"
"That doesn't sound very pleasant."
"But it would surprise you, no?"
"I'd say it would."
Sylvia approached him, her hand gently caressing his arm while he noted her open display of affection in front of Demetri.
She said lovingly, "I won't surprise you with nothing, but I will think of something."
Her humor earned herself a small smile from Oswald which disappeared as soon as she left the room to speak with the housemaid.
He looked to Demetri, his eyes sizing him up.
"Have a seat, Mr. Byrd."
Demetri slowly—albeit nervously—took a seat while Oswald sat in the armchair adjacent to him, leaning his cane against the right arm. For a long time, he didn't talk. Instead, he watched Demetri, questioning –what was in his opinion—Sylvia's debilitating logic for keeping this eighteen-year-old traitor alive.
A small random thought occurred to him, something out of the blue as though it might have been buried beneath his bitterness towards Demetri. While staring him down, Oswald had to admit (perhaps only to himself) that Demetri was a good-looking fellow.
Bright hazel brown eyes, chocolate-brown curls, and an impressively lean, muscular figure to boot. While Sylvia's stray regularly appeared confident in his own brand, Oswald noticed that in his presence, this youth was reduced to a submissive, fearful pup. It was almost flattering…seeing how afraid Demetri was of him.
"This cane was a gift, you know," Oswald said suddenly, tapping his fingers on the handle of his assisted walking device.
Demetri flinched when Oswald abruptly spoke.
"It's…it's nice." He cared to note, looking at it for the first time with pretend interest.
"It was a gift from Sylvia."
"She has good taste."
"On a contrary, we vary greatly on what piques our interest. For instance, I'm a man who enjoys the finer things. To her credit, she knows I have more expensive tastes, so she goes out of her way and gets custom made things for me…holidays, special occasions…random acts of kindness, what-have-you," He said thoughtfully. "She's a woman of simple tastes, really…does things for people. While it may not be politically correct, she can be more generous and charitable than most, even when she is compared to the Waynes."
Demetri cleared his throat bravely.
"Uh yes, she's very, very generous. No one could deny that."
"Most certainly, not you."
"Sir?"
Oswald leaned back in his chair, interlacing his fingers together over his stomach, and sternly peered at Demetri, who tried to make himself look even smaller.
It was impossible, of course.
However, that was the point: Oswald's main reason for not wanting Sylvia in the same room was due to her motherly instincts kicking in when it concerned the staff. Granted, while he liked her nurturing spirit—(loved and lived for it in every humanly way that was possible)—the fact of the matter was that Sylvia would have eventually swooped in and tried to save Demetri.
Oswald would have had little choice in the matter to let things go. He had an enormous soft spot for Sylvia, and couldn't deny much of anything to her, even if it meant postponing a conversation he needed to have with Sylvia's stray.
Now that she'd made the choice to leave the room, this conversation was happening.
"You do see where I'm going with this, don't you, Mr. Byrd." Oswald said knowingly. "Despite what you've led some people to believe, we both know you're smarter and a lot cleverer than what you would make yourself out to seem. Personally, I wouldn't care if Sylvia maimed you, or even decided to kill you. None of those options would have disturbed me, or even concerned me in the slightest."
"But?"
"The very fact that she let you live after everything you have done…that, young man, is what concerns me. It has brought something to my attention. Do you know what that is?"
"No, sir."
"She's a lot more charitable than what I was led to believe." He shrugged, adding, "She goes out to the Narrows on weekends and gives handouts to random homeless people, lump sums of money that she neither needs nor wants for herself. A female Robin Hood, if you will. She even goes out of her way to make sure everyone feels included. For example: Tomorrow, she's visiting the middle school in order to hold a staff position so that she can form a dance team that includes juvenile delinquents, the differently disabled, basically anyone who has ever felt excluded."
"That's very generous of her."
"Yes, it is. Isn't it."
"Very."
"I'd like to say that we could sit here and talk about her strengths all day long, but sadly, here's where our conversation darkens." Oswald noted with faux sadness.
Demetri's eyes widened as he stood.
"She's too charitable for her own good," Oswald continued darkly. "So sympathetic to the people who've suffered as she had to suffer: the orphans who don't have a mother or a father, especially the children who still have both parents but don't connect with them as well as they should; the homeless street children who have not yet had the privilege of proving their brass; and…people like you, who have so much alleged potential to be an asset."
Oswald said with a frown: "I admit that I see her point. You do have potential but where she thinks your penchant is for allegiance, I believe it's for treachery. Now, tell me if any of this seems new to you."
"No, sir. Nothing new. I've heard all of this before."
"As you should have. Now…" Oswald reached into the inner pocket of his waist coat and pulled out a switch blade, pressing the button so the glimmer of silver became more obvious. "I've had every intention of correcting her mistake since the moment she let you live. I'd like to think she and I share the same pragmatic way of thinking, but sadly, Sylvia is more…Well, she only sees what's in front of her. I look a little further than a week—months, even. And I see you betraying her again."
"Mr. Cobblepot—Mr. Penguin—Sir," Demetri said quickly, raising his hands up, "I know what this looks like—what it can look like—but I promise, I swear, I'm not—"
"Not what?"
"Delilah pulled the wool over my eyes—I was manipulated…but I see more clearly! I'm not the traitor people think I am. I care for Miss Sylvia, more than Delilah ever did, more than I can even admit, and there is no way I would make the same mistake twice. Look, sir, look what I did to myself—I'm more than willing to do it again, so I can…"
Perspiration dotted on his forehead. With despair in his eyes, Demetri grabbed the switchblade from Oswald. He started rolling up his left sleeve, over his elbow. At that moment, Oswald realized what Demetri was going to do; quickly, he grabbed the knife back.
"Whoa, whoa—that is not necessary!" Oswald quickly pressed the blade back into its metal nest and placed it in the inner pocket of his waist coat.
"But sir, how else can I prove to you that I'm loyal…"
"That, in itself, was enough. Besides, I don't want to put my housekeeper through the pain of having to clean up the room. On a personal note, I doubt it would go over very well with Sylvia if she found out I let that happen. But just so we're clear: she may have decided to let you live for whatever her intentions are. Personally, I'm undecided. For now, rest easy."
He held out his hand. Demetri shook it. Just as they did, Sylvia came back into the living room, humming to herself.
Oswald gripped Demetri's hand hard enough so the latter whimpered, and he pulled Demetri towards him, whispering dangerously, "If I so much as hear a rumor of you going behind her back, or that you've turned traitor—"
"Y-you'll kill me…"
Oswald sent him a hard smile.
"So, we understand each other."
"Y-yes, sir."
Oswald withdrew his hand, and straightened as Sylvia approached the two of them, smiling from ear-to-ear.
"Are the men done talking?"
"We just finished." Oswald stated coolly, glancing at Demetri, who smiled weakly in response.
"Demetri, why don't you go freshen up? You're sweating like a pig." Sylvia noted.
Demetri excused himself with a relieved sigh of thanks and quickly walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Sylvia gazed in the direction of which he'd disseminated, then turned to peer knowingly at Oswald, her arms crossed lazily over her chest.
"You scared him shitless, didn't you?"
"I had a discussion," Oswald clarified, his business-like tone back to the surface. "If there was any intimidation barring the outcome, I doubt it's anything to worry about."
"Your intent was to scare him."
"Guilty," He confessed, smirking. "Seemed to work, didn't it?"
"Did you use the cane as a segue?"
He frowned, saying, "How did you know that?"
"I was standing outside of the door," She explained, jabbing her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the door that led to the kitchen. "I had some idea how scared people are of you, but never knew just how threatening you could be to my staff."
"Is that a criticism?"
"A jovial observation, one of which I think you—above all—can appreciate."
He gave her a look, saying incredulously, "You're getting some type of sexual gratification from all of this, aren't you?"
"Oh, you have no fucking idea." Sylvia responded, smiling widely.
"I don't understand you sometimes." Oswald said, slightly amused. "First, you don't like me intimidating your staff. But then you get titillated by the idea of me doing what you didn't want me to do in the first place."
"I don't understand it either if it makes you feel any different. Do you think badly of me now?"
"Not at all."
"Oh, good." She wrapped her arms around his neck, adding, "So, what do you think of me?"
"You're an enigma to me, darling. I don't know what to think."
"But you like it, I'm guessing?"
"Very much so." Oswald agreed, allowing a sly little smile to reach his lips. "I'm still learning things about you that I never knew before."
"That's all part of the journey." Sylvia said, winking at him. "Speaking of learning new things…"
"Good segue."
"Thank you!"
"What's your news?"
"We're having a daughter." Sylvia returned casually.
Oswald nodded, then when he grasped the depth of her statement, he looked at her with wide-eyed surprise. Sylvia leaned into him, kissed him, and he returned it.
Attempting to contain his excitement, he said with a smile, "We should start coming up with names, I suspect?"
"I already have a few if you want to discuss them during dinner."
"Assuming we have a quieter one this time around."
Sylvia chuckled, "A quiet dinner in Gotham…I doubt that's such a thing, sweetie."
"We could try."
"Well, Olga's prepping in the kitchen, still. We could try making a second baby before dinner, if you're game." Sylvia mused, licking his upper lip. "Of course, you already know I am."
Oswald's answer came in the form of another kiss, although more passionate.