Birds of a Feather (Oswald Cobblepot)

What's In It For Me?

   We sit down on a park bench, Oswald holding a small bag of bird seed. I relax, leaning my head against his shoulder. I try to glance over and study his expression, but he tilts his head away from me, and because I can’t examine his expression, I’m not sure if he’s doing that on purpose or not.

“Can I ask you something?”

I nearly jump, we’d been in relative silence for a while now, the flow of conversation having been stopped sometime during our walk.

“Yeah, sure.”

He tilts his head toward me, leaning back into the park bench, his right arm reaching over to my shoulders, “Why do you never talk about your parents?”

I pause, “I...I have my reasons. I mean, there isn’t really much to say, I never knew them very well-”

“So they’re dead?”

I freeze as Oswald casually sets down the bird seed on the park bench, scatters some of the bird seed on the ground, and watches as several pigeons come flocking to the seed, “The way you used the past tense to refer to them. They’re either dead, or you consider them dead.”

“They’re dead.” I mumble, staring straight ahead.

“What happened to them?” he asks, placing his hand on my shoulder, “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

I brush his shoulder off of me, “Why do you need to know?” yes, technically I should be bowing to his every whim to keep him happy, but this is...different. This is something you don’t touch.

He leans in to whisper, “Because I want to,” he brushes a lock of my hair away from my face, “and you will tell me.”

“Amanda knows about you, you have nothing to threaten me with anymore.” I retort, lowering my head.

“Oh, she might know,” he counters, “but does she know about how I found out about you? How I stole your hotel key and snuck out just before daylight? How, with a bottle of alcohol and a match, I set your room ablaze with your things in tow?” he gently takes my chin and raises my head, “Oh, I wasn’t expecting the fire to take so long, but, oh, how deliciously perfect it was when you ran for that burning building. Those poor children…”

Oswald wraps his arm around my back and pulls me toward him.

“You know what I like about you? You’re just so, so nice,” he taps my nose with one of his long fingers, “and you’re so, so good as well. It’s almost unbelievable really. But in the end, your kind nature is what gave you away. I’d already seen your identification in your suitcase, and I’d called the two numbers in your suitcase. But what tipped me off was when you rescued those two squirts from the burning building. You scaled that drain pipe with such...physical prowess, and I’ll admit, I enjoyed the view while you did.”

He pauses to scatter more bird seed, “And when you finally came out, you let those kids go, and in typical fashion, they simply, ran off. No ‘thank you’, or anything. And you seemed totally fine with that.”

“Yeah, because I was practically dying from smoke inhalation.” I argue.

He smiles confidently, chuckling, “Don’t give me excuses.”

Oswald buries his head into my forehead, “Your kindness will be your undoing. No one ever respects someone who is kind. They will always respect the one with power.”

He pulls his head away, his hand still upholding my cheek, “Now, tell me about your parents.”

Can I really open up to this man? ...why am I even asking that question, of course not. But, he certainly is insistent on an answer. He’d see through me if I lied to him, so my only option is to give as little information as possible,