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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Mar 31, 2016 13:04:39 GMT -5
Cobblepot sighed bitterly, eyes lowered. (He was looking for a reasonably sharp stick.) "I'll just start swimming, then."
Realistically this would culminate in him stowing away on the first boat back to Gotham and awaiting the second half of the curb-stomping he'd earned for his treachery, but they were working against the clock here no matter what.
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Post by Megan on Mar 31, 2016 13:10:57 GMT -5
"The point is avoiding that," Megan groaned in frustration, and it took a lot of mental effort to not give his arm a tug to show she meant business. He was lucky that the point was also to avoid damaging his leg any further. "Look. I don't know who you are or where you came from, but from now on, you do as I tell you, ok? I just can't promise a miracle."
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 2, 2016 15:15:09 GMT -5
Oh, this was going to be a delight. He could never tell his mother about this as long as he lived.
"All right, all right, no need for raised voices--"
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Post by Megan on Apr 2, 2016 15:41:33 GMT -5
"I'm not raising my voice!" she said, exasperated. "And seriously, if it gets nasty enough, I'm going to have to figure something else out."
When they reached the curb, Megan raised her free arm to hail a cab. One pulled over a moment later.
"Here. I don't like the idea of making you walk that far."
She got in first, however, partially to ensure he'd be closer to the curb when they arrived and partially because helping didn't mean absolute trust that he wouldn't divert the route and take off without her.
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 3, 2016 11:49:08 GMT -5
(Which he was thinking of doing anyway. The ensuing arrangement of himself as far from his savior as reasonably possible without actually ending up on the pavement again was both painfully awkward and very damp.)
"I suppose it's too much to ask for assurance that we're not headed to an abandoned warehouse, isn't it."
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Post by Megan on Apr 3, 2016 12:34:59 GMT -5
Before Megan could answer, the driver let out a sudden low-pitched wail of disgust.
"What's that smell-" "He fell in the Hudson, ok?" Megan snapped back at him. "You fall in there, you see how good you smell." "I'm gonna need somebody's info, lady, because if I have to get ithe seat cleaned, that's on you." "Fine, ok, whatever! 36 Commerce Street, that's all you have to do."
She shoved a business card through the cash slot and then turned to look at her waterlogged guest of honor.
"You don't trust me, do you?"
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 3, 2016 13:13:37 GMT -5
"You'll have to forgive me." He had reverted to obsequiousness again, more bloodless-looking than ever and rubbing at one scraped wrist. "Minor disagreements. Business disputes. It pays to be careful, you know how it is. You-- you won't regret this."
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Post by Megan on Apr 3, 2016 13:21:59 GMT -5
"Business disputes," she repeated. "Oh boy."
The drive was fortunately very short- under normal circumstances, it would have taken just as long to walk there, but these were desperate times, Mrs. Lovett, and desperate measures were called for. Megan pushed $15 through the slot and hurried around to the other side.
"Here, come on."
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 3, 2016 13:36:06 GMT -5
She was, absolutely, going to regret this. The door opened, and Cobblepot poured out of it like a collection of human elbows rendered semi-liquid. He didn't even have it in him to say something unpleasant to the cab driver.
"You wouldn't happen to know the number of a dry-cleaner's--" That part would have to wait until he wasn't ready to faint a little.
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Post by Megan on Apr 3, 2016 13:45:07 GMT -5
"There's one a little closer to Sheridan Square, but I don't have anything else in the meantime," she said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm the only one in the house even close to your size. Everyone else is Vikings."
This sounded like hyperbole, as long as you didn't look back at the elaborate, labyrinthine pattern still burned onto the street itself where four-fifths of the current Viking population of the household had arrived in an extradimensional warp a couple of months ago.
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 3, 2016 13:47:37 GMT -5
"I see."
Wonderful, Vikings. He began to hobble faster.
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Post by Megan on Apr 3, 2016 14:00:52 GMT -5
"I think one of my old renters left some stuff behind, but he was like..."
She took a moment to estimate, squinting at him.
"...okay, point is, a lot taller than you. Anyway, ok, come on. Shoes off if you can manage that."
She unlocked the door and poked her head in.
"Hello? Anybody here? Okay, dodged that- well, you know."
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 3, 2016 14:02:27 GMT -5
There were many men on either side of the river who were taller than Oswald Cobblepot, so that alone didn't signify much. Something in the area of his right insole was wiggling.
"--excuse me, please."
He tipped out a small fish onto the carpet, and lined up his shoes against the wall. His filthy, bloody, waterlogged shoes.
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Post by Megan on Apr 3, 2016 14:09:02 GMT -5
Megan's eyes popped for a moment before she abruptly flung the fish out the front door as a present to the stray cats of Greenwich Village.
"...okay," she said, pushing her hair back. "Okay, we'll worry about the shoe situation later. Um. Okay. Take off your coat-"
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Post by Oswald Cobblepot on Apr 3, 2016 14:58:00 GMT -5
The coat came off with a little more difficulty, but without the inclusion of further wildlife. Underneath it his shoulder was pretty much a solid smudge of unpleasantness.
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