"Well, here we go."
Standing at Harley's front door, Edward rings the bell and awaits his inevitable doom.
Just getting himself ready for the party was hell enough as it is. Deciding what to wear, what to bring, the appropriate time in which to arrive. Not too early, but also not too late. There are rules, after all, to such social engagements. And those rules are mentally exhausting. Even for a master strategist such as himself.
So here he is, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a black button-down dress shirt. Sleeves rolled up to the elbows and a smart lime-green vest with no tie. A bottle of wine sits safely tucked under one arm. Something not too expensive, but certainly not the cheap stuff either. Just enough to give the illusion that he cares.
Rocking back and forth on the heels of his brown leather wingtips, Edward waits for the door to open, already planning his escape. He'll stay long enough, he tells himself, to make an appearance, then politely provide some excuse in which to retreat. Not that anyone will even notice or care that he's gone.
A minute passes and Edward secretly hopes that maybe Harley doesn't answer at all. In fact, maybe he should turn and leave now. Just drop the bottle and run. But as luck would have it, just as he's about to head out, the door swings wide open and a very excitable clown girl leaps out.
"Eddie Spaghetti!" Harley exclaims.
There's no backing out now, the Riddler realizes as she throws her arms around his shoulders. Harley drags the wiry fellow inside against his will and slams the door shut, trapping Edward inside her madhouse.
"Hello, Harleen." Edward chokes out as he pries her arms from around his neck. "For you."
Smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt, he produces the bottle of wine and hands it to her. A miracle he hadn't dropped it on the way in. Or accidentally smashed it over her skull to get her off him...
"OoooOooo... Looks fancy!" The birthday girl swoons as she looks the bottle over. "Thanks, Eddie!"
She goes in to hug him again and Edward's whole body tenses. He couldn't be more frozen if Victor had blasted him with his freeze gun.
"Please don't." He murmurs, arms clenched to his side as the happy clown goes and hugs him anyway.
"Aww, loosen up, Riddles!" Harley laughs, giving him a big, friendly smack on the back. "Here! Lemme show ya around. Big Tony's just been dyin' to meet ya. When I told him that you used to be a carney, he was all like, 'No way! Me too!' And-"
The sound of something exploding followed by a loud crash erupts from the kitchen. A cloud of smoke and two lackeys covered in what Edward can only presume were once the ingredients to a cake come running out shortly after.
"Ah, nerts. Mind putting this over there with the other goodies?!" Harley hands him back the bottle. "I'll be right back, 'kay? After I'm done dealing with these schmucks..."
Watching Harley rush off, Edward takes a deep breath and lets out a heavy sigh of relief. This might just be easier than he'd thought. He'll just head over to the drink table, deposit his bounty, and depart. In and out lickity split. Harley won't even miss him.
"You walk into a room with a rabbit eating a carrot, a pig eating slop and a monkey eating a banana." Ed mumbles to himself, eyeing the room teaming with people laughing and dancing, drinking and causing a raucous. The music's so loud, he can hardly even think straight. "Which is the smartest animal in the room?"
It's not that he hates having a good time, Edward thinks as he plunks the bottle of red down on the table, it's just that his definition of fun differs from those of lesser intelligence.
Take this crowd for instance. Edward's become fairly accustomed to being the smartest man in any given room, but this is just sad. The shared IQ in this whole apartment must amount to that of soggy bread. And that's being generous. He's known coma patients with more brain activity than this sorry lot.
These people, and he uses the term people loosely, are freaks. Even by Gotham City standards. Low class, bottom of the barrel, sideshow freaks. Which Edward's embarrassed to admit, he knows a little something about from his short stint cheating rubes out of their hard-earned cash working carnival games shortly after he'd left home for the first time.
Harley wasn't wrong when she called him a carney. He'd just hoped that by this point in his professional criminal career, he would have been able to move past that chapter of his former life. As the Riddler, Edward's accomplished so much bigger and better things since then. He'd built armies, toppled governments, matched wits with some of the worlds greatest minds, but mention the whole carnival thing once and now that's all she ever talks about. Acting like they're kindred spirits or something. She's a sweet girl, really, but Harl's a few cards short of a full deck...
"You going to open that or what?"
Stirred from his thoughts, Edward spins right around. He'd know that telltale purr anywhere.
A goddess in the flesh, the Catwoman is a pleasure to behold. Dressed in a simple black chemise, she looks anything but simple. Nor could she ever. The Cat could wear damn near anything at all or nothing should it please her and still look as elegant as ever.
"Never mind, I got it."
Producing a single, shining claw from out of her black, leather palm gloves, Selina pries the cork from out of the bottle. She then yanks the cork off her claw with her teeth and spits it onto the floor.
"Selina, dear." Edward greets the feline fatale with a taunting coo. "Always a lady, I see."
"Edward." Selina returns with sarcasm and a smile. "Always an ass."
The Cat snags a red Solo cup from the table and Edward turns to leave.
"What? You're not going already?"
Filling her cup, Selina needn't even lift her head to sense the Riddler leaving. Stealth has hardly ever been his strong suit, even when he's not trying to get caught.
"Yeah." Edward stops mid stride to reply. "Just popping in to drop off my gift, and well... I really must be going."
Without saying a word, Selina brings her full, plum-stained lips to her drink. Her green eyes stare back at him from over the rim of the red plastic cup. Judging him.
"I... uhh... have a lot of work to do." He bullshits, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. "You know, my death traps aren't going to build themselves."
It's not a lie. Well, not exactly. But Selina has a knack for picking up on even the slightest hint of deceit. And those damn eyes of hers bore right through him. He feels as if he's under one of those damn interrogation lights down at the GCPD.
"Seriously, my robots -"
"Will be just fine." Selina assures, finishing his sentence as she reaches for a second cup. "I promise you they'll still be there when you get home."
The Cat pours Edward a cup and hands it to him before he has another chance to protest.
"What?" She teases him. "Afraid you might actually have a good time?"
She can tell by his face that he's uncomfortable. The Riddler's out of his element here. Which is fun for her. Like batting around a scared mouse sort of fun.
"Come on, Eddie." Raising her cup, Selina seduces. "Have a drink with me."
As if he has any other choice.
