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

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

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.

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"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."

"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?"

"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?"

Not speaking for a moment, Norman folded his hands together, raising an eyebrow. He smirked casually, leaning back when Eddie leaned forward and watching him for a long moment before he spoke again. He appeared to think a good deal about his answer ahead of time.

"I have my plans. One day at a time, I won't let myself be impeded for long. No, I won't be breaking out."

A stretch of silence sounded before he spoke, the eerie quiet after an atomic bomb bust. Norman wasn't lying -- more than that, he hadn't rang out falsely. According to the precise laws of reality, Norman Osborn would not be breaking out from his jail holdings. Edward took a deep, triumphant breath, confident in his game. In his victory.

"No," he murmured. His grin lacked any restraint. "I suppose you won't be."

His confidence swirled into his words, edging over his expression.

"Reassuring, really. A balm, of sorts." Eddie's smug glee adopted a darker touch. "Medicating. Of course, you'd know all about medication, wouldn't you? And what do they have you on? Lorazepam injections. Zyprexa. Nardil. Anti-psychotics."

He licked at his lips.

"Among other things. A really harried experience, that."

"Who told you? Last I checked, that sort of information is classified. If there's someone divulging information on staff I'd be interested in knowing," Norman said, tone deadpan. He didn't like the look of Eddie's expression, nor the smug tone of his words. He knew that Nygma had some part in this whole escapade -- how much of one, Norman was still trying to pinpoint.

He leaned closer, pressing fingers to the glass.

"What is your investment here?"

"Please. Classified information? Nothing is beyond my reach, Norman, so do get used to that idea. It will certainly make your life easier."

Norman's proximity was noted with an arched eyebrow and a quickening pulse. His evident interest only heightened Eddie's theatrical sensibilities and, with an easy flourish, Eddie sidestepped into a stroll along the glass expanse. Pacing. Eyes absorbing Norman's careful body language.

"Isn't it obvious?" Eddie paused, his lips parting in a mock look of shock. "Or -- oh. Oh my, don't tell me. You haven't figured it all out yet, have you? Some of the pieces are still floating?"

He tapped on the glass.

"Beyond your reach?"

Edited 2011-01-07 10:47 (UTC)

"I've figured out what's important. Nothing is beyond my reach. Nothing. I know what you did, Nygma. And I hope you know--" One of his hands pressed hard against the glass, straining it. It wouldn't break, but it was clear the pressure against it was strong.

"--What that means for you. Messing with me is a very, very dangerous idea."

A snarl too brutal for Eddie's features met Norman's threat.

"Haven't you learned? I don't forgive threats. Isn't that what got you here?" He folded his arms, eyes narrowing. Eddie held the pause, the tension, before easing back into a fluid shrug.

"You'd think that whole mess in Times Square would have indicated as much."

"Do you think that I'm going to forgive this? Do you? Because I've killed people for far less than your offenses and they did not come back."

He leaned his forehead to the glass, slickly grinning. His gaze was fixed on Eddie.

"I've had worse. Times Square is nothing. Tony Stark and whatever he's decided to believe today are nothing."

"Mmm. I wasn't talking about Stark's end of that deal," Eddie practically purred the word. His volume dropped to a stage whisper.

"How do you think the tin can was inspired in the first place, Norman? Come now."

"Oh, I know. Why do you think I said 'believe'? Stark may be stupid, but he isn't stupid enough to work off of imaginary information. It wasn't difficult to piece it together."

His eyebrows wrinkled, but his eyes remained locked. "Hence my threatening you. Not with death, though. That's just a little more than useless here, murder."

Eddie tapped his fingers along the glass wall, musing.

"Good that you're aware, that's encouraging. I hate to waste my time you know, some of us don't have endless amounts on our hands," he said with a wink. Eddie was a man who carried salt for this sheer purpose.

"I'm not afraid of you, Norman. Never was. Do you know what I got out of that deal, with Tony?" Eddie placed two fingers against his pulse, watching his company. "No more nanites. Funny, isn't it? My freedom for your imprisonment. Or, rather, ignition for imprisonment, I assume Spider-Man came through for the conclusion."

He shrugged, not aware of the full set of details on that scene. But oh so willing to entertain them.

Edited 2011-01-07 22:30 (UTC)

"Lucky you. It is rather empowering, hm? Freedom. Did Stark ever activate them on you?" Norman tilted his head, baring his teeth at Eddie. "Make you seize? Convulse? Vomit up foam? Or did he strictly play your guardian?"

At that, Norman sat back again, removing his hands and face from the glass. "Imagine, Nygma, if this hospital had been around when Stark first declared you insane." He folded his hands together. "If something like that ever were to happen again, hmm. I wonder what would become of you."

"Did he ever do that to you?"

The thin whiteness under the skin of his face belied a growing fury, evident despite the smile Eddie so easily wore. It was dangerous, weaponizing what Stark had so recently told Eddie. But danger was not without its benefits, especially when Norman wasn't pulling any punches. His eyes narrowed after Norman's next breath.

"Pity you're the only one to remember that absurd detail, Osborn. It seems that some of us can live down our pasts. Some of us," he dropped his tone to a low snarl, hand clutching at the glass, mirroring where Norman's had once been.

"Would you be here, waiting?"

Norman's eye twitched; any satisfaction he got from Eddie's very clear reaction was met with an equal degree of anger, of indignation. He exhaled slowly, fingers curling against his palms in tight fists. He felt the nails bite his skin.

"We'll see," he said, not answering Eddie's question. "Nobody is bulletproof."

The impulse to hurt surged. He grinned, the corners of his eyes a bit too manic.

"I told my Thunderbolts to bring you down. None of them questioned -- they followed my orders easily."

Blood dripped from Norman's palms, unnoticed by him. He kept his glare leveled at Eddie, though his smirk was ever present.

"I didn't care about the Thunderbolts anyway," he snapped.

A heated beat followed. Eddie's eyes flickered at Norman's dripping palms. Hie eyebrow cocked.

"And Spider-Man? Did he follow my advice?"

Norman raised his own eyebrow, frowning slightly. Spider-Man...? Another layer of slick outrage coated him, but he outwardly didn't show it save for opening his hands, lacerated palms smeared red.

"What do you think?"

"I just wanted to hear you say it."

He savored that color on Norman, that broken red. It was his triumph painted, his warm victory smeared.

"He's really not that bad of a fellow. Theatrical, you know I like that." Eddie tapped on the glass, mocking without words. The point was drilled, each second digging deeper. "And so willing to be guided."

"Of course he isn't bad. He's a hero. He prides himself on his nobility and responsibility," Norman said, derisively. His teeth ground together.

"Manipulating him isn't hard if you know which buttons to push. And I'm probably his biggest button of all."

"Don't flatter yourself, Norman. I think he finds a few choice others more important than you."

Eddie could barely repress his giggle. His eyes glanced sharply at his watch, reminding him of the time.

"But don't take such things personally."

Edited 2011-01-08 12:21 (UTC)

Norman's eyes widened, and again he lunged for the glass. It trembled against the force, hands marring it crimson.

"It is personal. Trust me, Nygma. I'm the top of his priorities."

Although he had jerked back when Norman rushed forward, Eddie took a moment to lean in, hands folded behind his back.

"Do you want me to tell you?" He hissed. "If that is true, or not?"

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