the forefront of a tome and a tomb;
WHO: EDWARD NYGMA the riddler and THOMAS BLAKE catman
WHERE: A wine bar down 45th.
WHEN: Saturday, noon.
WARNINGS: It's four o'clock elsewhere, okay? And besides, wouldn't you drink with Boggarts about?
SUMMARY: Thomas and Eddie chat about morality.
FORMAT: Para? Quickpara? Both! Perhaps.
Not many people were out, even at this time. Reports of horrors plagued the streets, and rumor was swirled into myth among those who sold their stories. The local hospitals and precincts held speckles of cases about phobias manifested to the point of temporary insanity, it was enough to make the likes of Scarecrow smile in his nightmare-soaked sleep.
But Edward Nygma wasn't one to pay excessive mind, not when incidents like that were so common among City life. Gotham was the same way, really, but for a variety of different reasons -- regardless of the place, the atmosphere held the same. Terror. Horror. Despair.
Eddie sipped on his chardonnay, leaning back in his wooden chair. He had come early, being one to always desire the upper-hand, the command of his company. And Mr. Thomas Blake was certainly more interesting than the average company.
It would be fun to see how a lion fared in a socialite's facade. Perhaps his amusement was aligned with his more charitable intentions, perhaps it was a side-thought, but Edward was eager to meet Blake in the flesh.
WHERE: A wine bar down 45th.
WHEN: Saturday, noon.
WARNINGS: It's four o'clock elsewhere, okay? And besides, wouldn't you drink with Boggarts about?
SUMMARY: Thomas and Eddie chat about morality.
FORMAT: Para? Quickpara? Both! Perhaps.
Not many people were out, even at this time. Reports of horrors plagued the streets, and rumor was swirled into myth among those who sold their stories. The local hospitals and precincts held speckles of cases about phobias manifested to the point of temporary insanity, it was enough to make the likes of Scarecrow smile in his nightmare-soaked sleep.
But Edward Nygma wasn't one to pay excessive mind, not when incidents like that were so common among City life. Gotham was the same way, really, but for a variety of different reasons -- regardless of the place, the atmosphere held the same. Terror. Horror. Despair.
Eddie sipped on his chardonnay, leaning back in his wooden chair. He had come early, being one to always desire the upper-hand, the command of his company. And Mr. Thomas Blake was certainly more interesting than the average company.
It would be fun to see how a lion fared in a socialite's facade. Perhaps his amusement was aligned with his more charitable intentions, perhaps it was a side-thought, but Edward was eager to meet Blake in the flesh.