Oswald gets a call from Jerome almost immediately. The same morning that Oswald saw the news, in fact. Oswald and Martin are in his study, and Oswald has elected to put Jerome out of mind to get some work done. He answers with his normal drawl, the typical, formal nonchalance, but when he hears the familiar giggle come through, voice deep and gravely-a side effect of his resurrection that had lingered, Oswald found out, he sits up straight as a board.

"Aw, you almost don't sound pleased to hear from me."

He almost falls out of his chair, heart suddenly pounding like there was a jackrabbit inside of his chest, trying to kick its way out. "Jerome?"

"Miss me?"

Oswald looks over to Martin, sitting on the couch in his office and drawing on his notepad, feet swinging back and forth carelessly while Oswald did his work. His stomach drops. "Why are you calling, Jerome?"

"I can't call just 'cus I missed your pretty voice?"

Oswald narrows his eyes. "Is that why you called?"

A light sigh, and then Jerome buzzes on, "I'm calling to give you a little heads up, for old times sake. But maybe also that," he says, voice sultry as a wicked song, "Don't tune into any radio stations for the rest of the day. Just keep it all turned off."

Oswald frowns, "What do you mean? Why?"

"Just trust me, babe, you wouldn't like today's planned program and I hear the song selection sucks, try again tomorrow."

Oswald blinks at his phone with confusion when the line clicks over to signify that Jerome has hung up. He doesn't understand, but Oswald stands from his desk and moves into action. To be safe, he unplugs the radio all together and instead puts on an old record ro fill the silence. Martin doesn't seem to care about the atmospheric change, so Oswald doesn't offer any explanation.

On the news the next morning, the top story is half of Gotham city standing on the rooftops, one foot over the edge and ready to jump at midnight after being put under the thrall of Jervis Tetch. Oswald almost breaks down after realizing he and Martin could have been on that list... That they were too far from the city to have heard the GCPD's speakers set up in the streets when James finally saved their lives. He gives Martin a tight hug, arms wrapped like restricting coils, and ignores his confused noises as he tries to type out questions.

He doesn't hear from Jerome again until later that evening when going through his his mail. At the top of the pile is a neatly printed invitation, insisting he be present for an upcoming brunch. Oswald almost shrugs it off, not exactly feeling social, but the generic little smiley sticker on the back in place of a wax stamp has him hesitating. He opens it to find his suspicions confirmed. It's from Jerome, and Oswald is startled to learn that the brunch is to be hosted at his manor.

Attendance is mandatory.

It's mainly due to the sheer ridiculousness of it all that Oswald doesn't immediately try to recontact the number Jerome had used to call him prior. Not that he's even certain he could. Oswald doubts Jerome has anything more than burners now and then for the few times he needs them. Even then, what would he do? Demand Jerome find someplace else? Risk angering him? Instead he stands stalk still for a moment, lips floundering about as he looks over the invitation again and again, hoping he's misread something or that there will be a 'gotcha' hiding at the end. He hasn't misread a thing. It's not a joke.

His mouth drops open and closed like Zsasz's little coddle of Blemishes. He wonders if that makes Jerome the Angelfish, if Oswald is going be eaten alive for his carelessness.

He doesn't tell Edward.

He can't. He wouldn't know how. Even if there was something Edward could do about it, Oswald doubted it would end well for any of them. If he refused and tried to keep out Jerome and whatever other nefarious criminals he'd invited into Oswald's home, there was a good chance that any or all of them could wind up dead. Oswald didn't want to put Jerome on the spot like that, Edward even less . Martin , as far away from all the carnage as he could manage.

If they tried to run, Oswald would be sacrificing what little he had left of his father. He'd probably lose their home to whatever angry reconciliation Jerome might take out on it. Oswald didn't doubt Jerome would find them anyway. He had no intentions of living on the run from someone so driven by unfinished business. That alone would be enough to drive someone into living underground, and Oswald would never bode well like that. He'd drive himself insane. Not to mention Martin, and the bright future he had ahead of him.

So he agreed, mentally of course, there was no way to contact Jerome, and simply did his best to stay calm within the few days between when the invitation arrived and when Jerome had scheduled the brunch. He hides the little card away deep in his desk, behind paperwork nobody would think to lift or inspect, and waits.

Edward practically storms in as Oswald is helping Martin get ready for bed.

It's late and Oswald is fairly tired himself, which is probably why he doesn't connect that this is the first time he's actually seen Edward since Jerome had escaped. It was only the day after, and while Oswald had been a little miffed to not hear from Edward immediately after the news started covering Jerome's escape, he knew Edward had been working in the narrows. There wasn't a lot of media coverage there.

"Oswald!" Edward yells from just past the front door, and Martin leaps past Oswald to make a start for the stairs.

Martin pokes his head over the railing to spy Edward just before Oswald does.

He's soaked from the rain, and Oswald only has a blithering moment to fuss over him, tell him to get out of his wet clothes and take a hot shower, before Edward catches his arm. "Jerome's out."

Oswald's eyes widen and he immediately looks over to Martin. The boy's been helping Oswald settle Ed, taking his coat and bowler to hang up on the coat rack. He's turned away from them when Oswald turns his head, so Oswald leans forward and says in a hushed tone, "Let me put Martin to bed first."

"You already knew?"

"It was on the news yesterday morning," he says simply, and ushers Martin back up the stairs while Edward stews in the front hall. "Take a hot shower, Ed," he calls over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a bit."

Edward grumbles, but Oswald can see him kicking off his shoes by the door as he takes the last steps up and out of sight.

Later, after Martin is sound asleep and Edward has warmed up with a change of clothes, they meet in the living room.

The fireplace is lit and the rain still pours down outside the windows. Oswald is vaguely reminded of the night Butch tried to strangle Ed, how they'd sat right here and recuperated. Edward had worn Oswald's robe while he fixed him some ginger tea and honey (his mother's recipe for a sore throat), staring at the red ring around his throat that looked like it would be a ghastly bruise in the morning. It was the same night Edward told Oswald that he would do anything for him, the same night Oswald realized that he was in love with Edward Nygma.

Oswald sat beside Edward now and smiled, wondering if Edward remembered it too, if this atmosphere held the same meaning to him that it did to Oswald, though he didn't expect it to. Oswald had known he was in love with Edward way before Ed could even fathom the idea. He's still curious though, and realizes he actually doesn't know at what point Edward had developed feelings for Oswald.

"How did you find out about Jerome?" he asks instead.

Edward frowns as he sits back against the couch. "One of Lee's people let her know. She's got eyes on the rest of the city, even if she insists that anything outside of the narrows isn't her business."

"Ah," Oswald says. "It took two days?"

"We were underground. Big plans. Lee trusts her people because they're all extremely loyal, but there are still a few planted soldiers in her operation right now, ones that used to work for Sofia Falcone. She hasn't been taking any chances until she can be sure she's gotten rid of the rats."

Oswald nods slowly, a little surprised Edward is sharing so much with him considering he and Lee operate on opposite sides of the city's underworld. He must know Oswald doesn't plan to use the information against her, since she and Ed are somehow such close friends now, but the point is that he could.

Edward breaks Oswald out of his thinking with a frustrated sigh. "You should have called me. I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner."

"You were busy taking care of your business with Mrs. Thompkins." Oswald shrugs, "I figured you would hear about it soon enough."

Edward turns his head to face Oswald better. Oswald is still sitting straight up in his seat, hands gracefully overlapped atop his cane. "Are you okay?"

Oswald puffs out a humored breath. "I'm fine. He hasn't been here if that's what you were wanting to ask."

He nods, and Oswald can see that there's more to his line of questioning. They may be here for some time. He relaxes his shoulders to try and make himself a little more comfortable.

"Has he contacted you at all?"

Oswald hums, "He called a little before lunch yesterday and warned me about the radio stations. Tetch hypnotized half the city, I don't know if you heard."

"Same time I heard about Valeska. He called to warn you?" Edward repeats, a little bit of astonishment riddling his tone.

"'For old time sake', he said."

"I'm once again sorry that I wasn't here. We were underground and-"

"There's no need to apologize, Edward. You didn't know, and Martin and I were both fine."

"I should have known though. That's the point. I finally hear about everything and I'm two days late!" he huffs, leaning forward onto his knees with hands rubbing over his face. "I'm going to start keeping my cellphone on at all times when I'm not here, and I need you to call me whenever something happens."

Oswald dismisses him with a pooh-pooh, because he's being ridiculous. "Ed, we're both fine, there's no reason-"

"What if something happens to either of you and I'm not around? You could have died yesterday night and I'd have been the last to know..."

Oswald tries to keep his heart in his chest, words dying on his lips and cheeks warming in no relation to the crackling fire. He ducks his chin, and softly agrees, "Okay, Ed. I'll call you when something happens."

Edward lifts his head from out of his hands, bringing one hand over to Oswald's and pulling it away from the cane to lightly press his lips against a knuckle. "Thank you. I would never forgive myself if something happened to either of you because of my own foolishness."

Oswald huffs out a short laugh, simultaneously trying to hide his blush, "Miscommunication doesn't make you a fool, Ed."

"Not being here for you when you need me does."

Oswald can't even hide behind a false laugh this time, and instead he offers Edward a small, bashful smile.

Edward lightly grins down at where he's holding Oswald's hand. His smile fades, and he draws in a deep breath, like he's steeling himself. "Oswald," he says, and Oswald looks away from their joined hands up into Edward's eyes.

"Yes?"

"If Jerome does contact you, I want you to be careful," he says slowly, "and I think..." he pauses again.

"Yes? " Oswald urges with concern.

It isn't often that Edward Nygma loses his words and it has Oswald worried.

"I think..." he says again, "we should talk about how he might relate to the paranoia you've been experiencing lately."

Oswald frowns, suddenly feeling the need to close himself off, jump back into his protective shell, and juts up his chin to blow air out through his nose. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Edward looks a little put out, but remains soft in his tone. "Oswald, I'm a genius. I notice things even when I don't want to, but I always notice you. You can't hide something like that from me for long... and you shouldn't feel the need to." He sighs, "We're supposed to be in this together, aren't we?"

Oswald isn't sure if it's the way Edward is looking at him, if it's the pleading tone in his voice or just how deep those words cut, but he relents. Oswald rests his cane against the sofa beside him and clasps his hands together in his lap, trying not to fidget as he speaks. "I thought it was just... some leftover paranoia from being in Arkham. The last time I got out I nearly stabbed Jim Gordon with a smashed bottle."

Edward doesn't say anything, so Oswald looks up to see him watching Oswald, listening, and when he notices Oswald's hesitation he places a careful hand over his knee and nods.

"...but recently... Edward, sometimes I feel like I'm losing my mind. I never feel safe." Oswald startles at the small crack in his voice and Edward squeezes his leg. "I don't know what it is... it just always feels like there's something behind me- about to grab me- I don't see it coming and I-"

"Oswald, breathe."

Edward's shifted in his seat, turning so that he can take Oswald's face into both of his hands and wipe away a tear with his thumb. "You're alright. You're safe."

"Why is this happening to me?" Oswald blubbers, aware that his cheeks are now wet. "What will Martin think? Ed, he can't-"

"Don't worry. We'll figure this out. There's no need to worry him."

Oswald sniffles, "I feel like I just... I can't be safe. I'm... missing something important."

Edward's brow furrows and he rubs his thumb along the underside of Oswald's eye again. Oswald leans into the touch, coming apart at the seams and feeling like it's only Edward's well placed hands holding all the strings together. If he were to let go, Oswald would collapse into a pile of nerves, unable to be put together quite right again.

Edward licks his lips once, a face of complete concentration laced with worry for Oswald. "...Do you feel unsafe with me? Or with Zsasz?"

Oswald clicks his tongue, a little frustrated and not entirely sure why. "It's... it's not that. I understand you both are protectors and it makes it a little better... but... It's a different kind of safety. I don't really understand it myself. I just know that I don't feel... I don't know, complete? I'm not sure how long I've felt like that, but now that we're discussing it I think I have for some time."

"Do you know when it started?"

Oswald shakes his head, then frowns. "Well... actually, I think after... we had the rapist in Arkham. After that I remember feeling unsafe... I started sticking to Jerome and it really helped, but I haven't thought of the incident in some time. It wouldn't still be a fear of that, would it?"

Edward's hands slowly slip down from Oswald's face to his shoulders, squeezing once before one hand drops to cover Oswald's fidgety hands. He breathes in deeply once, through his nose as if steeling himself, and grips Oswald's hand. "It sounds like you're suffering from something called transference, Oswald."

He scowls, because that sounds an awful lot like something a therapist might say, and he doesn't like that Edward think he's got some kind of... mental disability. Kingpins don't have the time for that. "Edward."

"Transference is when a person becomes dependant on another after being saved from a severe trauma. Sometimes it's mistaken for love or affection, and not that dissimilar to Stockholm syndrome," he explains, quick to stop Oswald from shutting him down before he can say what needs to be said. "I might even flat out call it Stockholm, but Jerome wasn't your keeper. You were a prisoner at Arkham, and I think being unable to escape the danger on your own really made it easy to depend on someone else. I think it gave you a misappropriated idea of safety without you knowing..."

Oswald tries to pull his hand away, frustrated with the entire idea of this, even more so because it made sense. It would explain a lot of things, apart from his paranoia, that feeling of incompleteness that always seemed to linger could also lead back to the incident with Jerome. He remembers feeling a little lost whenever they parted for the night to sleep in separate cells. Possibly the only reason he kept that at bay for so long was sleeping right next to Edward for a time after escaping.

"Jerome was the one that helped you, so you feel like no one else could, even if that's just subconsciously."

Oswald lets out a heavy breath, wet with his crying, and Edward rubs his back soothingly.

"Edward... I can't be like this. I can't afford to be like this."

"You'll be okay, Oswald." Edward assures him, "I would tell you that I'm here, because you know I'll always be here for you, but the point is that you don't need someone to protect you, Oswald." He clasps both hands over Oswald's with determination. "You're the Kingpin of Gotham and notoriously hard to kill," he adds with maybe some hint of mirth.

Oswald snorts and lifts his arm to wipe his eyes. "Thank you, Edward."

Edward kisses him.

It's only the second time that Edward has kissed him, if you didn't count the small pecks to his cheek or the flattering press of lips over his hands, and Oswald already feels addicted to it. He loves the feeling, the way Edward almost holds him upright with his tender touches, be it a hand on his cheek or his waist, keeping him from just melting from it. He's got a bad knee anyway; mix in the way Edward's kisses make his legs wobble, and he's really depending on Edward there to keep him from crumbling.

Edward's lips move slow and carefully, like the history between them both has made Oswald seem fragile to him. It feels like Edward wants nothing more than to preserve him. Oswald adores that feeling. He's never had it before, and now it's going to become something he can't live without.

He sighs happily as they pull away, and Oswald wants to tell Ed about Jerome, wants to put all of his faith in Edward just like he does when they kiss. Edward won't let him fall.

"Ed-"

Edward blinks up at him, hand still held firmly in his own. "Yes, Oswald?"

Oswald still can't do it.

He's not entirely sure why, but he can always blame it on wanting to ensure that they all stay safe. Honestly, it's probably because doesn't want to oppose Jerome. Maybe it has something to do with the transference Edward's been talking about, maybe Oswald just doesn't want to lose the only security he knows he has, but he just can't do it. He can't tell Edward that Jerome is coming here.

Knowing that he's about to disappoint Edward again makes him sick to his stomach.

He gulps down the words he wanted to say and changes his originally planned lines, "Thank you... for being here for me. I appreciate it more than you know."

Ed smiles, warm and heartfelt before pulling Oswald's hand to his mouth for a kiss. "Always. I've got a lot of wasted time to make up for."

Oswald does tell Martin that there are going to be people visiting the manor. He instructs him to stay in his room until it's over and gives sparse answers to Martin's curious questions about these mysterious house guests.

Oswald is still grappling with his anxiety when the clock finally ticks over to the designated time that guests would start arriving.

He greets Fries, at least a somewhat familiar face, and Oswald is thankful that he's the first to show. Firefly is next, and Oswald reminds them to play nice with one another. Crane and Tetch arrive together, oddly close in Oswald's opinion, but Crane glares at him through the crudely cut holes of his bag, so Oswald doesn't comment.

Jerome is the last of them to arrive with a flourish, ever with the flare for dramatics. He catches Oswald in the hall before Oswald can usher him into the dining room. The moment he'd stepped through the threshold and into Oswald's home, Jerome eyes had glued onto Oswald, hungrily raking up and down his form before grinning.

Oswald feels a familiar sense of need settle in his bones, the command that he be close, that he hide behind Jerome from all the dangers of the world. He recognizes the urge immediately for what it is, what Ed had called it; it's nothing more than a transference.

"Lookin' good, babe," are Jerome's first words to Oswald since their parting at Arkham, and it's so startlingly on point that Oswald finds himself sniggering.

He smiles a little in spite of himself. "I like your tie."

Jerome snorts, stalks closer and ducks his head to plant a quick, firm kiss over his lips. It's surprising, though Oswald really should have expected it. The coarse skin of Jerome's mauled lips is a far cry from Edward's soft and sure ones. Even remembering what they felt like, Oswald can't help but draw the comparisons, the memory of Jerome's mouth freshly renewed in his mind.

The second that Ed comes back into mind Oswald reels, pushing lightly at Jerome's shoulders. It feels unfaithful to let Jerome be so near to him, which is… something to ponder in itself. Oswald is running on the adrenaline of his anxiety, three cups of coffee, and a restless night's sleep. His feelings are all over the place, and The Riddler's gravely voice rings in the back of his head like a taunt.

"You will always fail, Oswald, because you will always let your base emotions drive you."

Oswald pushes a little harder.

Jerome draws back with a giggle, flashing his teeth at Oswald before jerking his head towards the other end of the hall. "Shall we?"

Oswald nods once, and proceeds to lead him down to the dining room, where the rest of the guests have already taken their seats.

He's not exactly as Oswald remembers, but it's been a while since he's seen Jerome in person. The brunch begins a little awkwardly. Jerome addresses the guests like the showman that he is, and Oswald is left to stew in a pot of self-pitying misery.

He is with Edward, he reminds himself, and no matter what his body is demanding of him, Jerome isn't the wall of protection that he needs. He can't sacrifice everything he's built for a false sense of security. Oswald does not need a protector.

"Mr. Oswald," Jerome says, and the name feels almost like a mockery after so many variations of a nickname Jerome has given him, but he's glad Jerome isn't referring to him by things like 'baby' or 'Ozzie' around the other criminals, "thank you for doing your part in hosting today."

Oswald graciously nods his head, but his voice is a little stiff and without any real inclination, "Of course. Anything for an old friend."

Jerome grins and opens his mouth to say something else when the door creaks open behind them. Jerome stares at the newcomer with a raised eyebrow. Oswald turns his head, wondering if there's another surprise guest coming to join them, and his heart drops to the floor in seconds.

Martin cautiously steps into the room with his tablet, peeking over at Oswald before curiously glancing at the other guests.

"Martin!" Oswald gapes, "What are you doing here?"

The boy holds up his tablet, pressing the talk feature and announcing to the entire room that, "Uncle Ed tried to call you. He left a message."

Oswald chances another look over at Jerome, wanting to curl into a ball when the other eyebrow raises to join the first.

"Martin," he says sternly, leaning down and speaking with hushed urgency, "you shouldn't be in here."

"You're not gonna introduce us?" Jerome grins from the other end of the table, waving his fingers at Martin in a childish hello.

Martin waves back, adorable and naive, and Oswald wants to hurry him away and hide him somewhere that none of these heathens will find him. He catches Crane giving Martin a curious look, and immediately dreads the idea that comes to mind, Crane experimenting with him. He knows what Scarecrow's gasses can do. His hand clenches down on Martin's small shoulder.

Jerome gestures for Oswald to do the introductions, and Oswald shakes himself out of that terrifying line of thought.

"This... is Martin. He's my son." he says.

Jerome's eyebrows shoot up like they're about to fly off his face. Oswald's pretty sure he's paying too much attention to that part of Jerome's face, but it's mainly because he can't actually manage to look him in the eye.

"Son?" he balks "When did that happen?"

Oswald rubs the hand that had been tightly holding onto Martin's shoulder down his back. "I officially adopted him about five months ago."

"Ah, is this the 'someone' you couldn't break out of Arkham for?"

Oswald slowly nods, a little upset that Jerome's forced him to talk about his relation to Martin in a room full of people who could easily exploit it. He doesn't like having his weaknesses out on the table for anyone to see. Maybe that's exactly why he did it though. Oswald thinks with some semblance of bitterness that maybe Jerome is making a point to him, that he could have Oswald under his thumb if he wanted, he knows his weaknesses.

Jerome's wide smile shows off the cut corners of his lips as he gestures over to Martin, "Come on over, kiddo! I won't bite."

Oswald tries uselessly to catch Martin by his cardigan before he goes, but he's already stepped too far out of reach and Oswald is left grasping at the air. The distance between his own seat and Jerome's feels like miles as he watches Martin cautiously waltz over to him. Jerome grins, pats his knee once, and assists in lifting Martin up onto his thigh with an excitedly giggly noise.

Oswald tries not to let his concern show on his face. It's too early to really show his hand like that, but he's nervous. He doesn't want to demand that Jerome let Martin leave-well, he does want to, but he couldn't possibly get away with it without putting all his cards on the table. He'll lose.

Jerome's smile stretches even further as he glances over at Oswald, and the wide girth of his mouth has Oswald thinking of the Angelfish again.

He will not let Martin become a Blemish.

He opens his mouth, but Jerome speaks first.

"So 'Uncle Ed', huh?" he cheerily simpers, his smile filled to the brim with something eerily false as he offers Martin some of the food from his plate. "You talking about Riddle man?"

Martin brightens as he chews on a strawberry, and Oswald tries not to think about how attached to Ed Martin has become as he quickly types something out on his tablet for Jerome. Jerome reads whatever it is he has to say over his shoulder as he types, then stops Martin before he can play it through the speakers so Oswald can hear. Jerome starts cackling, loud and startlingly mirthless. It's for show, Oswald realizes, and he feels the hairs on the back of his neck raise with every dramatized croak. Whatever Martin said to him, he hadn't liked it, but he was pretending.

For whose benefit, Oswald doesn't know, but he immediately wants to get Martin far far away from Jerome's lap.

"Martin," he says, polite yet stern, and Martin perks up immediately, being the good child that he is. "Why don't you go find Uncle Zsasz? You were supposed to stay with him this afternoon."

Martin starts to make a move to leave, but Jerome's hand forms a fist on the back of his cardigan before he has the chance. Oswald's breath hitches, because this is what he was waiting for. Jerome is going to finally show his hand. "Awwww, he can't stay? We haven't even had desert yet!"

Martin's eyes widen a little as he seemingly starts to grasp the full gravity of the situation-that Jerome isn't at all like Uncle Ed or Uncle Zsasz.

Oswald forces himself to swallow the lump in his throat, fingers curling tight over the round of his cane. "You want him present while you discuss your plans for the city?"

Jerome chortles, twirling his free hand in the air beside his head. "C'mon, who's he gonna tell, right?"

His laugh is nervously echoed by a few of the others at the table, but Firefly pipes up tersely, "I don't approve of corrupting children."

With Firefly paving the way, Tetch also twitches in his seat and voices his opinion, "I admit the company of children I do not enjoy, I would also prefer to be rid of the boy."

Oswald didn't like the way Tetch said it. He makes a point to remember to keep Martin far away from Tetch if there are any future deals between them. Though, he might just cut him off completely at this point, just in case. He never really liked Jervis anyway... hypnotists could never really be completely trusted.

"Bah, alright." Jerome huffs, and scoots little Martin off his lap.

He catches him again before he can run to Oswald though, whispering something in his ear, then gives him a pat on the back to go. Oswald feels a breath of relief escape his lungs when Martin makes it to his side. He puts a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Go find Victor and I'll come check on you when we're done."

Martin's eyes flicker questioningly to Victor Fries, sitting at the table, before Oswald huffs, "Uncle Zsasz, Martin."

Martin draws something onto his pad so quickly that it comes out just a little messy in translation, "Are you safe? "

Oswald blinks at the question, and he suddenly realizes that... he really isn't. For the first time since he'd started his... weird relationship with Jerome, Oswald did not feel safe with him.

He wasn't about to say this to Martin though, so he shifted his hand to Martin's cheek instead. "I'll be alright, my boy. Now go."

Martin gives him a frown, one last worried glance, then leaves the room.

"Cute kid," Jerome chuckles, fingers steepled together over the table.

Oswald nods once, readjusts to present himself as the very picture of civility and hesitantly replies with a small, "Thank you."

There's a minute twitch in Jerome's left eye, like maybe he's just a little disappointed in Oswald, but he moves on quickly. "So, I bet you're all wondering why I've called together this... legion of horribles..." he smirks, gestures over to one of the caterers, "That has a nice ring to it. Write that down, wouldja?"