This time, it was a black eye.
When he saw you staring, he just said, "I got cocky. I was impatient."
You give him a wordless. It was inevitable that he would go too far. Still, he was really shook up. Through all of his injuries, he kept his smirk, knowing that he had had won regardless of his scars. But today, his eyes were downcast and his brows were furrowed.
"What else?"
"Huh?" He gawked at you.
"You lost. Your master plan caught a hitch or something. Am I right?"
He cracked a small smile. "You are. How perceptive you are."
He wasn't talking. You grew even more concerned; normally the chatterbox never shut up, and now he was keeping quiet? How uncharacteristic of a snitch.
"You're really not going to tell me what happened?"
"Why do you want to know so badly?"
"I'm worried."
"About me?"
As strange as it was, you were. He was a risk taker, the proof being his steady obtaining of scars or even broken bones. He was always pushing the boundaries, and this time he pushed too far, but he survived. How many more times will he be able to do that?
"Well, I do appreciate the thought." He paused, contemplating, then gazed back at you with soft eyes that you'd never seen on him before. "You really are a good girl."
You can't help but blush, embarrassed by his sudden honesty. You stumble over your words, trying to find the appropriate thing to say. "You're, uh, not all bad, yourself, once you get used to you."
Now he laughed. "I'm actually not, but thank you for the sentiment."
For a few moments, you stand in awkward silence, trying to remember what you were doing before Oswald arrived. It was early, so not many people were here, so you must have been…cleaning? Yes, you'll keep doing that. You hastily wiped dust off of the bottles behind the bar, then stopped. Turning back to Oswald, you ask him, "What is your master plan, anyway?"
He seems to return to his natural self. He smiles slyly. "A snitch never tells his own secrets, miss."