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capeandcowllogs2011-02-18 09:56 pm
enigmaestro.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowllogs2011-02-18 09:56 pm
Entry tags:
What hungers without stomachs, what burns without passion?
WHO: EDWARD NYGMA and NORMAN OSBORN
WHERE: NOHoPE; Cell block 12.
WHEN: 2/18; evening.
WARNINGS: It's Norman and Eddie. Norman. And. Eddie.
SUMMARY: Reformation at its finest.
The back of his neck prickled with tinged ire as he strolled under the brightly illuminated bulbs above. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to humor the delusions of Norman Osborn -- much less expose himself in degrees that only Norman could touch. He didn't crave this game, didn't like the risk. Edward had been played into a corner, his house of cards threatened by a king, his hand armed only with a joker and an ace.
Dead man's hand.
The idea ignited a scoff from the detective's throat.
But he was far from losing, far from surrender -- he'd do what was necessary, he'd simply change the game. If Norman wanted to play dirty, if that was the case. The clipboard in hand was clenched by whitening knuckles, his tie smooth, his smile sharp. Nothing up his sleeve (too obvious a place). The visitor's pass pinned on his blazer shone brightly under the heat of florescent lights. Edward passed Katurian's wing without blinking, without even a glance.
The orderly outside Norman's room was waiting for Eddie. With a nod, Eddie instructed to be let in. Alone. The first step was always the greatest struggle.
"Hello, Norman," said Eddie as he took his second step in, strolling over towards a vacant chair. "Ready for our little interview?"
WHERE: NOHoPE; Cell block 12.
WHEN: 2/18; evening.
WARNINGS: It's Norman and Eddie. Norman. And. Eddie.
SUMMARY: Reformation at its finest.
The back of his neck prickled with tinged ire as he strolled under the brightly illuminated bulbs above. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to humor the delusions of Norman Osborn -- much less expose himself in degrees that only Norman could touch. He didn't crave this game, didn't like the risk. Edward had been played into a corner, his house of cards threatened by a king, his hand armed only with a joker and an ace.
Dead man's hand.
The idea ignited a scoff from the detective's throat.
But he was far from losing, far from surrender -- he'd do what was necessary, he'd simply change the game. If Norman wanted to play dirty, if that was the case. The clipboard in hand was clenched by whitening knuckles, his tie smooth, his smile sharp. Nothing up his sleeve (too obvious a place). The visitor's pass pinned on his blazer shone brightly under the heat of florescent lights. Edward passed Katurian's wing without blinking, without even a glance.
The orderly outside Norman's room was waiting for Eddie. With a nod, Eddie instructed to be let in. Alone. The first step was always the greatest struggle.
"Hello, Norman," said Eddie as he took his second step in, strolling over towards a vacant chair. "Ready for our little interview?"