The muffled sound of a cloying evergreen penetrated the snowstorm as I reached for the door. Inside only a petty group of men had gathered to play cards. The pianist hadn't noticed my arrival. I stayed in the shades.

Our first encounter occurred shortly before the club opened up. I was about to call it a day when Oswald Cobblepot purposefully walked into the GCPD. A handsome young man, black suit, wild hair, a Machiavellian criminal on the rise. An intriguing combination. He had come to see Detective Gordon, but found his desk empty. I watched as Edward Nygma crept up on him instead. On the one hand Edward was the kind of nerd you felt sorry for. On the other hand you felt sorry for anyone he talked to. Cobblepot did not seem overly fond of Edward's riddles either. When I overheard Edward mention penguins, clearly a joke at the expense of Cobblepot, I stepped in.

"Edward? Sorry to interrupt," I lied, "but I was wondering if you were done with that report."

"Only time will tell."

I willed it into a "yes". "Could you fetch it for me?"

Rid at last of the department's personified conundrum, I turned to Cobblepot.

Handsome indeed. Strands of black hair grazed his eyebrows, emphasising the radiance of blue eyes against pale skin. I could not tell whether he was grateful for being rescued or offended.

"If you're looking for Detective Gordon, he's around. Should be back at his desk any minute." Instantly Cobblepot brightened up. "You can wait here, if you like," I offered a seat.

"Thank you, I shall. It is an urgent-"

He smiled at something behind me. Gordon had returned. I left to allow for them to talk in private, but Cobblepot's urgent matter was a short one. Soon they parted and the Detective came to question me. "Did he invite you, too?"

"Invite me?" My eyes caught a black card he was holding on to: "Oswald's".

"No. He was just looking for you."

"Good. Stay away from him."

Obeying orders had never been my strong point.

The piano fell silent. "What can I do for Gotham's finest today?"

"I am afraid, Mr. Cobblepot, we have reason to believe that you are involved in multiple illegal activities," I declared as I entered the stage.

"Do you have evidence?"

I circled him and warned: "It is merely a question of time." The truth of it struck me with sudden melancholy.

Oswald motioned me to sit next to him. "Play something sad."

Once I had taken my seat, the first notes of House of the Rising Sun filled the air. Carefully, so as not to hinder his playing, I leaned against his shoulder. It felt warm against my cheek. The gentle movement of Oz' fingers across the black and white keys was spellbinding.

"You know, I've always been sorry I missed the opening night."

"I can't say I were disappointed with the course of events."

Charmer.

Having finished the song, my pianist signaled the solitary employee at the bar to switch on the stereo. "Would you like a drink? We've got Absinthe." His smile was infectuous. "Possibly. But first: Remember that favour you insisted on owing me?" You could watch the smile turning smug. "You've come to claim a favour. This should be interesting."

"Well, don't get your hopes up yet."

We had come a long way, still it took some courage to utter the following. "I've come to claim your couch."