It's always dark in Gotham.
Rupert Thorne is sweating. This is outside his norm, and he knows it.
The choice of a funeral parlor for making these weapons deals felt like imaginative thinking at first, which was necessary, since the goddamned Batman has been making it his personal mission to never let a businessman get a moment's sleep.
Now, though, he's nervous. Wondering whether or not the choice of location was actually a sad irony.
Still, he has to remain smooth and in control, despite the fact that his pulse is racing.
The cigar helps. Always does. This isn't something he'd handle personally, usually, but he'll be damned if the Bat hasn't gotten him edgy. First guy to call it paranoid gets the cigar in the eye.
He doesn't like to be kept waiting, either.
Finally, though, the caskets roll in, which means they can get this done. Before the Bat shows.
"It's about time."
The choice of a funeral parlor for making these weapons deals felt like imaginative thinking at first, which was necessary, since the goddamned Batman has been making it his personal mission to never let a businessman get a moment's sleep.
Now, though, he's nervous. Wondering whether or not the choice of location was actually a sad irony.
Still, he has to remain smooth and in control, despite the fact that his pulse is racing.
The cigar helps. Always does. This isn't something he'd handle personally, usually, but he'll be damned if the Bat hasn't gotten him edgy. First guy to call it paranoid gets the cigar in the eye.
He doesn't like to be kept waiting, either.
Finally, though, the caskets roll in, which means they can get this done. Before the Bat shows.
"It's about time."