Sometimes, I feel like going down I'm so disconnected

[osreborn]

WHO: Norman Osborn and you!
WHERE: NoHoPE
WHEN: Visiting hours (let's say between 1 and 4) on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday. Specify the time and date in your comment.
WARNINGS: Hmm.
SUMMARY: Isn't it obvious?
FORMAT: Whatever is your pleasure.


It wasn't even a week since he'd been incarcerated in his hospital. Norman was far more stable than he had been when he was arrested thanks to the medications he was inundated with -- pills he tried not to swallow, injections that he couldn't avoid. He was calmer thanks to sedation, but the other affects would take longer to kick in fully. His body rebelled, trying to fight them.

He scratched at his neck, chewed his nails, slept poorly. One of the worst things about being here was the inability to have private conversations; Norman was missing them already.

The other things he might miss weren't things he would ever consciously admit to himself.

Comments

Wednesday; 3:00

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

It wasn't just about the gloating, honestly. Edward had a devotion to his own personal civic duty, a requirement to follow-up on his project. An obligation. The fact that Norman was medicated, sedated and secured behind layers of glass was simply the icing on an otherwise well-intentioned cake.

And yet, despite the glee he had embedded in the idea of his purpose -- civic duty, visiting Norman, what not and so forth -- that helium-like happiness deflated the moment Eddie managed through check-in. The asylum was clean, clinical -- barely reminiscent of anything like Arkham. But then, logically, the institution would be quite the opposite, wouldn't it? Surely if Dr. Crane had influence on daily maintenance. Nevertheless, the reasoning colored only cold comfort for Eddie Nygma.

His feet made a slick slap with each step as he strolled across the pale linoleum that so adequately matched the pale walls. With a bright blue visitor's pass attached staunchly against his green blazer, Eddie kept his chin held high and his smirk on easy display. This wasn't his home, after all, and any excess memories were nothing but simply that. This was a brave new world -- wasn't it? His flicker of doubt was soon muffled. The moment he reached Norman's holdings, the moment he saw that small four-hundred feet square room, his glee galloped back.

"Norman. You're looking... Dismal." Adrenaline surged through his veins as he spoke, his smirk widening a degree more.

Well. Perhaps it was somewhat about the gloating.

[osreborn]

Eddie was regarded with shadowed eyes, attentive but clearly restless. The skin beneath was deep shades of purple and gray, bringing the blue of his irises out and making his eyes appear larger.

More awake.

His expression didn't change, cold and distant, save for a slight hook of his lips in a forced half-smirk. His fingers clenched and unclenched into his palms.

"Look who it is. I'm not surprised you showed up early."

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

"Merely addressing old business," he said as he readjusted his tie. A quick glance at Norman's attire -- light orange, like watery pumpkin soup -- brought a deeper smirk to the already-cocky detective's face. How amusing.

"Surely you're happy for any company? Your cries over the Network seem so wanting."

[osreborn]

"I didn't say I was wanting for company, Nygma. I'm perfectly content on my own as well as with others. I can adapt." Norman's eyes narrowed again, pressing his hands on his knees.

"What do you want?"

[enigmaestro.livejournal.com]

"Now he wants to know what I want," Eddie mused to his invisible audience. Useful tool, that. "Well, Norman, where shall I begin? I'm keen on an informational trade of sorts -- intent for intent, in a manner of speaking. One's a bit retroactive, I'm afraid, but I'm sure you'll find it enthralling."

He leaned against the glass separating himself from Norman, his hand pressed hard.

"So let's play, shall we? After all, what else are you going to do?" He grinned, his lips callous with scorn. "Will you be breaking out of here?"

Wednesday; 1:00

[out_of_time]

Ordinarily he would have talked to Osborn sooner, but following up on the other chaos that had ensued on the night of his arrest had kept Jack busy until now. The need was still real: the information on his conversation with Cavil made it clear that Osborn had given the killer access to a research facility in Washington DC. Besides the need to apprehend Cavil for the murders he'd committed, that facility was likely his next target. With this in mind, Jack had his serious face on when he approached Osborn's room.

"Norman Osborn. We need to talk."

[osreborn]

Seeing the face of one of the people responsible for his incarceration so soon (yes, it was still too soon as far as Norman was concerned) was not the way to put the afternoon off to a good start -- but Norman leaned back, smirking smugly in the way one does when they have information someone else wants.

"Well, well. Do we? I thought we'd already made each other's acquaintance."

[out_of_time]

"I'm not here to get to know you better, Osborn." Jack was linefacing impressively. "Where did you send Cavil?"

[osreborn]

Norman raised his eyebrow, and held open his hands. "Excuse me?"

Thursday; 2:00

[plays_with_dolls]

It had taken Boyd longer than he would have liked to finally find the time to visit Osborn in the hospital. Sierra's arrival had opened a lot of opportunities for him that couldn't be put off. That along with setting up the facilities for Ms. Halverson had eaten up most of his week and he'd had little time for anything else, even for a public show of kindness. On the bright side he doubted Osborn would notice that much. They probably had the man quite sedated by now. Hopefully sedated enough to let something useful slip.

Even if he didn't Boyd could still ask him about the various heroes around town. The more Boyd could learn, the easier it would be to sideline them and keep them from interfering with him. Thankfully their business partnership provided him a convenient and plausible excuse to visit. People might still be suspicious, but it could be explained away as simple business.

The partnership and his current control of Osborn's business also made it extremely easy to gain access to him. With a wave Boyd walked past security to the visitation room and took a seat near Norman. Of course, as Norman had requested he'd remembered to bring the week's papers. "Afternoon, Mr. Osborn. Feeling better?"

[osreborn]

Boyd's was a face Norman was more inclined to see, versus the police and other sorts of scoundrels that were turning up here. He smiled politely, crossing one leg over the other.

"Much. If nothing else, this place is certainly restful." He titled his head a fraction, eyes drifting toward the newspapers in Boyd's hands. Good.

"Nice to see you."

[plays_with_dolls]

Boyd set the papers down on the table, and leaned back in his chair. "It's nice to see you too. I'm glad to hear you're doing better. We've been concerned that your recovery might be slow."

[osreborn]

"Who's 'we'? The fine people at work?" He smirked, folding his hands in his lap. "The doctors here are very competent. I hope my sentencing pays mind to my improvements, even in this short time."

Wed Late Night

[meowminx]

[ Security is tighter than Arkham's, but Catwoman has gotten through worse in her day. And in the City, she can cheat. She is cautious though, using interrupts for the cameras because phasing them out would mean easier escapes for patients.

She's brought along a very special flower arrangement for Norman. Purple blossoms and a distinctive orange shell of a pot. ]

[osreborn]

[ The hallways are dark, but Norman is awake, listening to all the noises the hospital makes at night when everyone else is asleep. It's a lonely place, populated still by very few; ironically his entire in-City family. How disgustingly appropriate.

But he suspects he can hear someone. Maybe it's just the building settling -- it is rather old, albeit refurbished. Nonetheless, he turns his head lazily towards the glass wall, sitting up. ]

Hello?

[meowminx]

[ She waves a gloved hand at Norman. Claws out. The other hand holds up the flowers. He can clearly see the pot is made of one of his pumpkin bombs from his old lab, diffused and disassembled. ]

Hi Norman. Brought you something.

[osreborn]

Selina.

[ His tone was deadpan. His eyes fall to the flowers, and from there to their pot; they narrow, but he doesn't comment. ]

What brings you here?

Wednesday, 2:30-ish

[diesarock]

It wasn't out of any sort of loyalty that Terra found herself in the hallways of "No Hope" that afternoon. There was no pain of betrayal, no real burden of remorse. She wasn't shocked by these events, after the things revealed to her only weeks before, so for once, Terra wasn't caught in some emotional maelstrom beyond her control or understanding.

Her only reason was just simple obligation.

Terra's heels left a punctuated clack-click-clack against the smooth floor, until paths and guidance led her here. Her steady and unhurried steps ceased, but she didn't offer any greetings or accusations. No questions or tears or anything of the like. In fact, she didn't bother saying a word.

She observed.

[osreborn]

When Norman laid his eyes on his new visitor, his first instinct was to scowl; second one, to grin. He ignored both and favored instead a curious raise of his eyebrow, and an expression that said he was surprised -- but not unhappy -- to see her here.

In a way, it was true. Terra had had something that intrigued him -- something he wanted to learn more about. A power she only hinted but never showed him. He leaned forward to greet her.

"Terra."

[diesarock]

"Norman."

Terra wasn't usually one for surnames. Her arms crossed idly across her chest, eyes taking in the sight of Osborn's new "home." It was strange to see him again in a place like this, but was a whole lot nicer than the place the last person she knew had been locked up.

But as far as she knew, he was nowhere near Kefka's level, so the difference was deserved.

Terra tilted her head a little to the side, bringing her attention back to the man. "How are you holding up?"

[osreborn]

"Oh, things could be better. Could be worse. It's all a manner of perspective. I'm sorry that I couldn't see the team off to a better end -- you were remarkable, you know."

He shrugged his shoulders, almost apologetically.

Thursday night.

[incywincyhero]

Spider-Man had planned on visiting the night before, but he'd gotten tangled in a gang fight down by the docks: a brief distraction at best, until he'd gotten thrown into the Hudson. Quite apart from the joys of web-swinging above the streets of the City in sub-zero weather, he had only the one spider-suit to his name since being 'Ported in. Conversations with Norman were always a battle of wills (to say the least), and Spidey preferred to have the psychological edge of not being wet and smelling faintly of industrial waste and sewage.

Now he slipped past the cameras and over the heads of the guards, hoping the floral scent of his bleach wasn't enough to draw their attention. Once at the glass wall of Norman's cell, he spun his webline and followed it down until he hung at eye level, upside down.

"Knock knock."

[osreborn]

Norman was laying on his bed, though not asleep. His sleep patterns fluctuated, sometimes causing him frustrating nights of insomnia and sometimes allowing him peaceful stretches of eight, nine hours.

He didn't care much for sleep, either way.

He heard the knock against the glass, but didn't turn his head immediately. In fact, he closed his eyes, smirk growing on his face.

"Who's there?"

[incywincyhero]

Norman in a playful mood rarely boded well. Then again, nothing good ever came of speaking to, fighting with, or even being in the same time zone as Norman Osborn. If someone were to ask, Spider-Man wouldn't be able to give a single sound reason why he was here tonight, and at least a dozen why he shouldn't be. And yet he'd come anyway, no more able to stay away than an iron filing could escape a magnet. Maybe he needed the paltry reassurance of seeing Norman brought low, however long that would last.

Maybe it was only when one of them hit rock bottom that they could have a civil conversation.

"It's Jiminy Cricket," Spidey said. "I heard you had a job opening for a conscience."

[osreborn]

At that, Norman opened his eyes, turning his head to appraise his late-night visitor. He'd pinpointed Spider-Man by voice, even though he'd already had his suspicious: really, after Catwoman, who else would come in after hours?

"Spider-Man." He smiled. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."