I own nothing but Nicki.

CHAPTER FIVE

"Have more than you show and speak less than you know."

Nicki glanced at the clock above the bar and gave a small sigh. It wasn't that she wasn't enjoying herself. In truth, it was great to catch up with Butch, and having the opportunity to talk to men who didn't work for her father was nice for a change of pace as well. Those men were always so careful with her and knew better than to let her drink. She was always careful when she had the opportunity to drink since she didn't often, but she still relished getting to do so. No, she was having a great time, but it would have been better if her reason for being there wasn't looming over her. Falcone was due to come tonight and discuss her future, and if it went anything like the talk with her father, well, it wasn't a conversation se was looking forward to.

She had grown up in the world of organized crime, and she wanted out. It wasn't exactly the life she took on by choice and now that she was 18 the reigns were finally in her hands. Her father had expected ot "pass on the family business" and she was much more reluctant to take it on than he had hoped. Now she had to explain herself to Falcone as well.

Catching her gaze, Butch gave her a light, playful punch on the shoulder. "Boss man should be here soon," he assured her, seeming to sense her apprehension. "It's only 11 and there were some issues on the waterfront today."

She nodded in response and turned her attention back to the blond mans story. What was his name? Kirk? Something like that anyways. His animated story about hanging some poor soul out of a window by his foot was…fascinating…but she could feel her attention begin to wander.

She could see the man, Oswald, at the bar, his figure hunched over a book. Probably something for the club. She watched as he alternated between scribbling in the book and raising the pen to his mouth as he worked. His black hair fell into his eyes, hiding the ice blue orbs she remembered so clearly. How they could appear so inviting, or hostile, but always so alive among his sharp features and pale skin. He began to drum his fingers against the bar in thought and she remembered them as well. How they had felt when they brushed against hers, held her by the shoulders, pressed gently against her ankle. She could see why the others made fun of him. He was on the shorter side and very slender which made him appear downright scrawny next to most of the men in the room. And his pointed nose and odd hairstyle left little to the imagination in regards to why they referred to him as Penguin. Yes he was very odd in demeanor, but there was something endearing about all of it and this unique individual had certainly captivated her attention.

Realizing that she was staring she quickly averted her gaze and pretend to laugh at…whatever it was the others were laughing about. Luckily she didn't have to pretend to have been paying attention because Butch began indicating over her head towards the bar. Following his gesture, she saw a man in a servers uniform holding up a phone in her direction. Excusing herself from the table she sauntered to the bar and took the phone.

"Nick?" a familiar voice came through the receiver.

"Vic," she answered, her heart already dropping. She knew what this would be about.

"I'm still at the waterfront with my girls and Falcone. This has turned into a bigger mess than we expected so he's going to have to meet with you Friday instead."

"I see you've been promoted to personal secretary for the Don," she joked back dryly, failing to hide her disappointment.

"Nicki-" the voice started in a familiar, appeasing tone.

"It's fine," she cut him off, pinching the bridge of her nose. "It's just, I just want this to all be over."

"I know," the voice clipped back, suddenly seeming distracted. She heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked and took that as her cue.

"Go to work," she said, trying to make her tone a little cheerier. "I'll still be ready to complain when you're done."

The line went dead and she gave a soft chuckle at his abruptness. Hanging the phone back up on the wall, she realized that the only other person at the bar was Oswald. Even the bartender had stepped out for a break, it seemed. She slid into the seat next to him and watched him continue to work, oblivious to her presence. With a playful impulse, she tapped her finger against his hand to get his attention.

With a gasp, and jerked away as if he had been stung. She couldn't help but laugh at his response and saw his pale cheeks take on some color. He blinked at her a moment before looking at the bar and stammering, "L-l-lazlo stepped out for a minute. If you w-want a drink I can get it for you."

She shook her head, feeling her loose curls bounce from the movement. "No, I just wanted to talk to you," she said with a smile. "But if you're too busy with your…"

"No," he replied, a little too quickly. "What…what did you want to talk about?"

Her eyebrows furrowed a little. This shy, stammering man was a completely different person from the confident one who had found her in the alley. The confusion in his eyes was hard to miss, as if he couldn't understand why she would just want to sit and chat with him. "Just…talk," she shrugged, putting it as simply as she could.

He seemed to calm down, although to her surprise, his eyes turned cautious, calculating. "I must confess, I was very surprised to see you here when I arrived. I never would have guess that someone like you would have been associated with-"

"Someone like me?" she cut in, curiosity lacing her question. Her lip quirked as the stammering, blushing Oswald came back with a vengeance.

"No…I j-just meant that you look…or rather you d-d-don't look like…What I was trying to say was-"

She held up her hand to stop him, a peal of laughter escaping her lips. "It's fine I understand." She replied. "This place practically drips sex appeal and it makes me look pretty out of place."

Oswald was unsure of how to reply. In the sense that she didn't look like the average dancer that Mooney hired she was correct, but there was a classier sort of appeal that she had. True it was that put-together, innocent aura that set her apart but…

"I've never seen you here, but you seem familiar with the place." He decided to change the subject altogether.

"I used to come here a lot when I was younger. My dad was great but growing up with mobster men doesn't exactly teach a girl how to be a girl. That ended up being Fish Mooney's job."

"That's right," Fish Mooney drawled, coming up to rest her hands on Nicki's shoulders. "Daddy's men might have taught you how to shoot again but it was your mama that taught you how to take a man out with a pair of high heels without smudging you lipstick." She winked at Nicki who gave a small laugh. "I'm sorry to hear that Don Falcone has been delayed. You know you're more than welcome to stay if you like, all the same. You know you're always welcome here." Realizing the present company, she shifted her tone slightly, casting a side-long gaze at Oswald. "And I hope our little Penguin here isn't bothering you."

"No, no! He's actually been great company," Nicki said brightly, giving his arm a squeeze. "I'm probably bothering him more than anything."

Fish looked skeptical but smiled all the same before sauntering off to meet a group of Russians that had just made a loud entrance. Nicki turned back to Oswald, but he seemed too interested in his shoes to notice. "You reallllly don't like that name do you?" Nicki remarked, trying to catch his eyes. "You know as far as names go, that isn't the worst-"

"And I shouldn't let it bother me, right?" He cut in bitterly, catching her off guard. "Sticks and stones right?"

His intense eyes dared her agree, but she did nothing of the kind. "Hah!" She exclaimed. "No, I would never say that."His eyes softened a bit. He was surprised to see, not sympathy or her usual smile, but a hardened expression on her face. "Words cut deeper than a knife. Always." She concluded. And for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, Oswald was a loss for what to say. This girl, she was a surprise a minute. Not knowing how to respond, he let the silence sit between them for a moment, broken only by Nicki tapping her finger against her glass to indicate to the newly returned Lazlo that she needed a refill. Flipping it back, she downed half of the amber liquid (scotch?) before setting it back down on the bar. After another moment, she spoke. "I'm going to make sure you're Don knows what you did for me. How you helped me back in that alley-"

"That's not necessary. I wasn't doing it because-" he tried, but she cut him off herself.

"I know." She looked up from her glass and he was happy to see that the warm, open face he had come to associate with her had returned. "That's just it. You had no idea who I was or where I was going. You just saw a girl in trouble and came to her rescue. No good deed should go unrewarded and it's the least I can do." She reached over and squeezed his hand, before adding, "That, and pay you back for the cab fare."

Oswald felt overcome with gratitude. A good word with the Don, well, he couldn't think of anything better. "Miss Nicki, I can't thank you enough." He did his best to smile and lay it on as thick as he could. He even ventured to rest his own hand on top of hers, surprising even himself at his own boldness. She shot him a lazy smile.

"You know, I see why you hate the name Penguin so much, but I kind of like it." He retracted his hand, but she didn't notice, examining his eyes, waiting for the darkness to return, the blush to set in. It didn't though. Only a look of surprise. "It sets you apart," she continued now that she saw he wasn't going to retreat from her. "You're not like everyone else here."

He eyed her suspiciously, but there was no mockery in demeanor. Something else instead actually. Was it…fondness?

"You're not like everyone else here either." He muttered, staring into her eyes.

She smirked. "Well rats, and I thought my disguise was finally working. I guess it is true what they say, you can put a street rat in a dress but she's still a street rat." He blinked and she laughed, a little too loudly. The alcohol was starting to seep into her brain and her lips were getting looser by the minute. "Have you ever heard of the Mouse Thief?"

Oswald's brow furrowed and he gave a slight chuckle at her sudden shift in conversation. "Of course, he was the most infamous thief in Gotham for three years. He pulled off some of the biggest hieghsts the city has seen and was never caught,"

"Never caught by the POLICE." She corrected, shooting him a wink. "The "mouse thief" got a little in over his heads trying to rip off a shipment from Fish Mooney to Don Maroni and got busted by the crime families. Turns out it wasn't a man at all…just two 8 year olds." She smiled into her glass. "But I guess Mouse Thief sounds a lot better than Nicki and Vic."

Oswald's mouth dropped. "Wait…are you trying to tell me YOU are the mouse thief?" His gave a dark chuckle. This was obviously a joke, and he didn't appreciate being made a fool of. "That's absurd."

She shrugged but continued to grin like a Cheshire cat. "Don't believe then."

"Your serious?"

"Dead serious. We got busted and nobody wanted to throw a couple of kids in the river so they just took us in and put us to good use instead."

Oswald shook his head in disbelief. "That's…unbelievable."

"Yeah," she laughed. "Two street kids adopted by the Mafia. You're classic rags to riches story."

"Forgive me," Oswald said, still shaking his head at her tale. "But who exactly adopted you? I still have no idea who you are other than your first name."

"You're cute," she giggled, casting her eyes back to the now almost empty glass. "I believe…I have had too much of this and I have talked far too much." She cast her doe-eyes back on him and propped her head up on her hand. "And I believe I'll keep that secret for another time." She giggled and tapped him on the end of the nose with her finger. Oswald might have been annoyed by this, but when she leaned up and lightly pressed a kiss against his cheek before sauntering away from the bar, he couldn't help but smile. His heart fluttered as he watched her lazily make her way back to Butch, captivated by how innocent and playful she was. It was a breath of fresh air from what the club usually offered and found his hand rising to touch the spot on his cheek where she had kissed him for the second time that day. She had called him cute. She had touched his hand, sat with him, and…But even as he stared after her, he couldn't help but be baffled by the idea of her as she had painted herself just now. As a master criminal. The child robber that terrorized Gotham. As he watched Butch escort her outside he chuckled. There was definilty much more to this girl than met the eye.