Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

Dropoff Delivery

    Peeking in on Ed's workshop, I find him at his workbench, endlessly mumbling to himself.

"Ma-maybe I should give her flowers...no! That'd be too obvious...but she hasn't responded to any of my other gestures. Not the reorganizing of her files, which, might I add, I improved on her system...and she shunned me away...why didn't she see the work I did for her?"

"...Ed?" I ask, lightly tapping my hand on the door.

His head jerks up, taking notice of me. I push the door open, revealing a bakery box in my hand,

"Peace offering?"

Ed's confused stare turns into a smile, "Muffins?"

"Cranberry muffins," I correct, stepping in and handing him the box.

He sets down the box, and we sit down in the dark green couch settled in the middle if the workshop.

"Where'd you get this couch from, Ed? I know this room is supposed to be for storage, but why would a police precinct need a couch?"

Ed pats the nearest couch arm, and a puff of dust flies up, "It use to be the break room couch. They were about to throw it out when I snatched it up."

"Really? I didn't even know we had a break room," I confess, chuckling.

Opening the bakery box and taking out a cranberry muffin, Ed takes a bite out of the top of it, "Nat...while I will compromise to trust your judgement on this man, if he hurts you further I insist that you come to me right away."

I can't help but laugh, "Alright, but, what are you going to do about it?"

Ed whips out a surgical knife, flashing a depraved smile, "What do you think?"

"Ed, where did you get that?!" I shout, grabbing his hand and forcing him to put the knife away.

His smile fades, realizing that I took no humor in his joke, "Procured it from the medical examiner's office. He takes such poor inventory of things...he won't miss it. That reminds me."

Ed stands up in a rigid manner and shuffles over to his workbench. Picking up a folder hidden under a false bottom, he turns around and walks over to open up the folder in front of me. Brightly lit pictures of dead bodies lying on a cold medical table.

"Ed...where did you get these?" I ask, browsing through the photos.

"I've been performing my own autopsies," he explains, reaching under the table and bringing up a box of tapes and a large player.

Selecting one of the tapes, he inserts it into the tape player and starts to rewind the tape. As we watch the microfilm on the tape turn, I ask, "Wouldn't you get fired if the medical examiner found out? I hear he's quite the stick in the mud."

Ed smiles, reaching over to pat me on the head, "That's the whole point of the autopsies, my thorough intellect compensates for his ignorant sloppishness."

"Just...be careful," I warn him.

"Oh, you're allowed to warn me about my questionable experimentations but I can't warn you of dubious lovers? I smell a hypocrite, Nat," Ed pokes at me playfully.

I laugh, reaching my hand over to mess with Ed's meticulously neat hair. He swats my hand away, and takes a comb out of his coat pocket to reorganize it.

I smile, I should be grateful Ed's such a forgiving guy, after all, he's a great friend. God...I sigh to myself...I still love him-...no! I snap myself out of my daydream, no, I can't. Ed's pursuing Kristen, and I have Oswald, end of story. But...is it bad to wish for something I'll never have? After all, Oswald is not a perfect alternative to Ed, and to be perfectly honest with myself, I'd dump Oswald in a heartbeat if I could have Ed. But so what? I never will, so why am I even considering that a possibility?