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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Mar 29, 2016 17:22:25 GMT -5
It was picturesquely overcast when Oswald Cobblepot surfaced, white sky and dark water, but too late to do him any good. The icy hand of providence had moved over the waters and there he was, a shivering bundle of pain and wool clawing for purchase on the end of an equally gray and threatening dock. He had managed to haul himself up with one of those heroic bursts of strength that lifts pickup trucks off of baby carriages, only to retch up a lungful of industrial contaminants then and there. But wherever the hell that kind of effort had come from, it ebbed away quickly, and now it was on him to limp up the slope seeking some small place to either take stock of himself or quietly die. Whichever.
His ears were still ringing from the sound of the shot, and it seemed increasingly likely that he'd be sick again. Unfamiliar surroundings, but at least he didn't wash up in the middle of a park, or on a bright sunny day swarming with happy couples and children with ice cream. This was the only non-survival-oriented thought worming its way through his stunned brain. He couldn't have survived that.
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Post by Megan on Mar 29, 2016 17:38:02 GMT -5
The rain had finally cleared up enough for Megan to go walking, a habit she followed with the kind of regularity most people reserved for going a lot faster. Headphones popped in, most of the world was shut out, though the dim daylight meant she had to be a little more careful. Nobody cast shadows in light like this.
It wasn't uncommon, in better weather especially, to pass people panhandling or just hunkered down on the pier- mostly homeless or unwell or both- but the sight of someone shuddering on top of it- in the water taxi gangway, no less- gave her pause. Megan frowned and shut off her as she strode tentatively onto the pier.
"Hey," she called. "You okay?"
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Mar 29, 2016 17:40:53 GMT -5
Oswald raised one hand in an unsettlingly stiff salutation, wiping unidentifiable black gunk from his chin with the other.
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Post by Megan on Mar 29, 2016 17:44:52 GMT -5
Megan flinched involuntarily.
"Jesus, what-"
That was when she noticed a trail of the stuff dribbled right along the slip to the very edge and looked back at him in alarm.
"Do you need me to call 911?" she asked as she started to pull out her phone. "There'll be a boat here in a few minutes anyway-"
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Mar 29, 2016 18:27:40 GMT -5
"You're very kind." He went to dig for a pocket handkerchief among his various soggy and/or bloodied layers; if he'd had one on him at the outset it'd been lost a long way back. "But no, thank you. If you'd permit me to make a personal call--"
Oswald began to lurch her way, looking as small and harmless as possible, before realizing he didn't have a weapon on him, either.
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Post by Megan on Mar 29, 2016 18:31:45 GMT -5
"You were just in the Hudson with an open wound," she countered, though she couldn't tell where exactly all the blood had actually come from. "At least get inside somewhere-"
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Mar 29, 2016 18:48:00 GMT -5
That was fair. The freezing-cold water hadn't felt any better than it probably smelled.
After a little more pocket checking, completely defeated, he gave a choked laugh. "I must've left my wallet in my other coat--"
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Post by Megan on Mar 29, 2016 18:53:23 GMT -5
"Did you fall in or what-"
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Mar 29, 2016 19:01:18 GMT -5
Cobblepot gestured expansively at himself.
"Yes!"
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Post by Megan on Mar 29, 2016 19:13:31 GMT -5
"I meant fell in as opposed to pushed," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Look, whatever happened, you should probably be getting it disinfected unless you're looking forward to a supervillain origin story."
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Mar 29, 2016 19:45:25 GMT -5
"Yes, it's very funny, isn't it," he said distractedly. The shoulder of his shirt was starting to adhere to skin and if he was lucky it was only runoff from the old glue factory. "Listen, ma'am, I happen to be soaking wet and incredibly hungry, so if you could point me toward wherever it is that people go--"
His ruined leg maintained a jaunty angle every time he took a step, which put a crimp in the idea of simply stealing her phone.
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Post by Megan on Mar 29, 2016 19:51:46 GMT -5
"That would be the hospital," she said, "but apparently you don't want to go-"
She glanced at his leg and frowned.
"...ok," she muttered. "Ok. Somebody messed you up, ok, and you don't want to leave a trail. Ok. Come on, I guess."
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Mar 29, 2016 20:09:30 GMT -5
"So sorry for the inconvenience."
The exhilaration of being alive and victorious, presumably presumed dead, was beginning to creep up on him again. He had ceased to shudder and gone back to just regular shivering.
"You don't happen to have a car, do you?"
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Post by Megan on Mar 29, 2016 20:11:23 GMT -5
"How far did you float from to end up here?" Megan retorted.
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Mar 29, 2016 20:16:10 GMT -5
"Point taken."
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