Riddle 040: A Little Less Conversation...

[questionauthority]

[At some point on this seemingly ordinary Thursday afternoon, a conversation between two older men can be heard over Mayfield’s phone lines. No, it isn’t Jack Smith or the Mayor. But who could these men possibly be...?]

-- I do NOT have cobwebs--

Well, from the sound of it, you certainly don’t anymore.

I have no idea where you’re getting such horrible lies from, Nigma, if you haven’t just thought them up yourself, but they’re just that. Lies.

He actually defended you, you know. Do you mean to tell me that all those lovely things he had to say about you were lies?

And you’re just going to automatically believe-- No, of course, of course you’re going to trust the word of a textbook narcissist over mine; it’s like talking at a mirror for you two, isn’t it?

What’s the matter, Jonathan? Can’t handle it when I rustle your feathers? You had no problem rustling his.

... I am hanging up the phone, Edward. I will never be picking it up again.

I’m sure you won’t. Wait. Hang on a second. [A dramatic pause.] ...Oh dear.

... [Why is he letting his curiosity get the better of him?] What?

Well, it appears as though---in my haste to check up on you, of course---I neglected to filter the call. Must have slipped my mind.

[As good an actor as Eddie may be, there’s no hiding that shit-eating grin that’s just crept onto his face.]

... I am going to fill your veins with so much fear toxin you will never have a coherent thought ever again.

Comments

[inthebones]

Edward, stop hate-flirting with him and just go sniff more of those flowers.

[questionauthority]

[Oh god, everyone can hear this conversation except for her.]

Get off the phone, Susan! This is a private conversation.

[Except it really isn't.]

[inthebones]

But you were so eager to have everyone overhear. Is this a public declaration of some sort?

[questionauthority]

What on earth are you implying, Susan?

[inthebones]

Oh. Nothing at all. Don't ruffle your feathers too much over this.

[questionauthority]

[There's an indignant squawk. Then the phone goes CLICK.]

[phobophobia]

... This really is public, isn't it. [WHEN IT WAS JUST GOTHAMITES AND STUFF IT FELT LESS LIKE

NOW PEOPLE FROM OTHER DIMENSIONS ARE JUDGING HIM]

[inthebones]

Of course. This is that weedy fellow I've seen skulking around in Edward's secret clubhouse, isn't it?

[phobophobia]

...

[Well, to be fair, he is all of those things. Can't exactly argue against it.]

Yes.

[inthebones]

Play nice with Edward. Wouldn't want the two of you ruining each others' costumes, now.

[phobophobia]

Oh, don't worry. I won't leave a scratch on him. [Injection wounds aren't really scratches.]

[inthebones]

Entirely unrelated, but it's much easier to score a blow when he's busy spluttering over an insult to his suits or general intelligence or unfortunate life choices. But I'm sure you already knew that.

[phobophobia]

[... oh he likes you] I've known him for more than a few years. You pick up on it rather quickly.

[inthebones]

It isn't so much a question of picking up as it is being anywhere within fifty feet of him projecting his psychological complexes.

[phobophobia]

True. It doesn't take a psychologist to figure him out.

[inthebones]

Or even a fully functioning brain.