2014.04.24 - Two rogues walk into a bar, nobody dies.

Edward Nygma was two days into being a foster parent to a troubled young man when he began to feel the pressure. He wasn't sure he'd really been in his right mind when he'd asked for the boy's life to be spared the Court's machinations, but... he did, he was, and now he was in a bar where the rich wouldn't go and drinking what passed for their top shelf scotch as he went over yet more paperwork regarding Johnthan's well being. Mandatory psyche evaluations (shudder; a little close to home for Eddie), court appearances, and a lot more signatures to go through to clear up the McHeigh family assets and remove certain persons as comptro

In short, he was barely touching his scotch and was wound up in his reading, at a bar, like a huge nerd.

Floyd Lawton sidles up and sets a glass of half-drunk whiskey on the bar next to Eddie, a cigarette dangling from his lips. It's technically non-smoking, but the bartender knows Floyd. Which means he knows better than to bitch about it, "Eduardo. Long time. You never come to the Blackgate Christmas parties. Bane makes a wicked guacamole dip. What's all this crap? Like, sudoku or somethin'?" he says, bumping shoulders, smelling of cheap cologne and cordite.

Shoulder bumped, Edward's pencil skipped on his legal pad. He looked up at Floyd; his initial irriation smoothed away to surprise. Well, this was new. He didn't feel any danger; if Floyd was here to pop him, he'd have done it and not been chummy about it.

"It's all part of my new, squeaky clean image, Floyd." He managed a smile. "Especially now with a kid in the picture."

He straightened in his seat; visits from the Joker were one thing, but Floyd he could deal with. He was rational. He killed for cash. It was a job. Eddie could understand that. "Should I ask what brings you back to Gotham?"

Floyd Lawton shrugs, taking the stool. He's not going to talk about the Squad, still under top secret swearing in James Bond/Maxwell Smart crap. He was still waiting for his shoe phone. "Tryin' not to get popped by the Bat, mostly. I don't much miss the tender lovin' arms o' Belle Reve. Avoid a federal rap if you can, Eddie, they don't mess around," he says. "Other'n that, y'know, lookin' for work, pickin' up tail...what's this about a kid? Who'd you knock up? Oh, man, tell me it's that big-titted girl that used to hench for Hatter, Alice...Alice...eh, they're all named Alice, I can't keep 'em straight."

Nose wrinkling, Edward didn't recoil so much as he tried to wash down his distaste at Floyd's crass phrasing.

"No, I inherited a child." The less said about his actual, biological daughter the better, so he simply went on with the relevant train of thought. "Ward of the state. Some careful legal manipulation, and I'm now a foster father to the McHeigh heir. He's... In need of specialized care."

He took a baby assassin into his home. In retrospect, his ego might've written a check the rest of him might have to default on.

Floyd Lawton furrows his brow, 'Hold on...you got a kid dumped on you...on purpose?" he laughs. "Eddie, pal, you're supposed to be, like, topnotch smart. Brains of the operation and the whole nine yards. I mean, I heard you'd gone legit and, hey, I ain't about to judge. You can make a livin' and you're happy, better'n getting punched in the face by old flappy flap," he says.

"But, family man...yikes. No thank you," he says. Of course, Floyd had children, two, in fact. And he'd kill anyone other than him aware of that particular fact, other than their mothers.

It was one thing to think to himself that maybe this hadn't been wise. It was another for Floyd 'I think with my gun' Lawton to call him on it!

"I have it under control," he said. "The Court of Owls is currently so deep in arrests and litigation, and they lost their cadre of undead assassins, not to mention their 'leader'." He wouldn't share the identity of the Talon; that was his prize to guard jealously. "But the kid-- well, lets just say a normal family wouldn't know what to do with him. At least I'm used to sleeping with one eye open."

Floyd Lawton shrugs, "Fine by me. People shouldn't have their own in-house assassins, it's an insult to the capitalist system," he says. "Undercutting the free market. Hell, I grew up around a lot of those bastards. Assholes, one and all, even as kids." he says. It's easy to forget that scumbag Floyd Lawton actually grew up as part of one of Gotham's wealthiest and most privileged families, until Floyd blew his brother's brains out. Then it all fell apart. Mother commits suicide. Father drinks himself into cirrhosis, which is the only reason Floyd didn't kill him when he got out of juvie. It was Dad he'd been aiming for, after all.

"Ain't no such thing as a normal family, Nygma. Just freaks of different degrees. Now that you're all clean, though, you should ask the Bat. He knows all about teenaged boys."

"Yeah, /pass/." The distaste was there again, and he chased it down his throat with scotch. "I don't particularly want parenting tips from--" from a man like Bruce Wayne, who could-- one version or another of him-- screw up so badly as to create a young man like Jason Todd. He still had the letter. He just had no intention of giving it to Jason.

"I mean, what Robin is he even on now? Four? Five?"

Floyd Lawton shrugs, 'Who knows? I mean, I tried to plug enough of 'em. Damn spry little suckers. I think it's those tight little pants, keeps 'em constantly on their toes. That or Batsy's grabby hands," he laughs, the jokes old hat among Gotham's criminal set. Hey, they're not exactly an enlightened bunch. "Still ain't exactly clear - why the hell are you takin' on a kid? Is this some kinda weepy cleanse me of my sins shit? Cause Father O'Reilly up at St. Sebastian's'll take care of all that and give you a cracker to eat while yer at it."

Was that it? "Never went in much for religion," he said, looking into his now-empty glass. He thought on it a moment, and then shook his head.

"Would you put a kid, trained to kill, screwed up by some twisted shrink," that word slipped out, hot and venomous; oh, he'd love to get his hands on Dr. Riddle, alright. "Woud you put him with Joe Normal foster parents? No. He's halfway to being a Gotham rogue, and-- well, we look after our own, don't we?"

Reformed, yes. Trying to put his past behind him? Surely. Ashamed of what he was? Not most of the time.

Floyd Lawton shrugs, lighting another cigarette as the bartender refills him, "Eh, fair enough. If the kid's a good enough little killer, I could probably find him work. Kidding, kidding," he says, raising a preventive hand before Edward can get tetchy with him.

"I was lucky, I got deemed sane so I never had to deal as much with shrinks as a lot of you lot. They tossed around sociopath for a while, but, truth is, I feel feeling's just fine. I'm just good at killing people and pretty much okay with it," he grins. "I think that bothered 'em more than if I was crazy."

"Don't know that I'd call that lucky, Floyd." Eddie had ping-ponged from Arkham to Blackgate and back so may times he couldn't remember or count. He was criminally insane, then it was dangerous and then it wasn't. It all depended on which judge was looking to make a statement on his case.

That was all over now, though. He was free. He intended to stay that way.

"But I suppose you have to find a silver lining where you can."

Floyd Lawton shakes his head, 'Nah, you don't. You can just descend into self-hatin' crazy until you're a jibbering nutball. I mean, you ever meet Roman Sionis? Yikes. I mean, I went to summer camp with that guy! Now he's talking to himself and probably fuckin' his Mommy's corpse on the weekends."

"But, hey, it's always an option. Especially in Arkham. I got sent there by accident once. They figure, "Hey, Batman brought him in, must go to Arkham." If there's anyone dumber than your average henchman, it's a Gotham City beat cop. I have bullets smarter than some of those asshats. Yeah, I'll take Blackgate every time, at least they're sane enough to be scared of me."

Edward does not remind Floyd that the Riddler had it rough in any enclosure-- he was small, a bit wheedy, and seemed like an easy target for anybody who didn't know just how goddamn mean he could be. He took his licks, alright, and gave back some of his own, but Edward had not done well in captivity.

"No, though I doubt I'm really popular with him right this second," he said. Sionis was probably less than pleased about his family's connection to the Court of Owls being outted.

Floyd Lawton shrugs, "Is anybody? Look, you get any trouble from old Falseface, lemme know, I'll drop a few of his lieutenants. He might be crazy, but he knows better than to cross me," he says. In some ways, protection from Deadshot was better than the Bat. Deadshot always followed through on his threat and, everyone knew, once he took your contract, he wouldn't stop until you were dead.

"What's the pool running for how long Joker's gonna stay locked up this time? And whose keepin' his piece warm while he's inside? Damn, that girl does have a nice behind for a nutcase."

"Not everybody just got the Sionis, March, McHeigh and Powers families so deep into the legal pit that they'll never see the outside," he points out, but he can't help but grin. "Now, now, Floyd -- I'm trying to stay clean. I can't just call out hits. I have to out think things like this."

Thinking is, after all, what Eddie does best.

"...ugh, God, don't bring him up." The flush the spread across his face when Harley was brought up was embarassing, but he just ignored it and kept talking about about the Joker. "He made my life difficult the last month. I'm hoping he'll actually stayed boxed for a couple of weeks. It'll be better for my blood pressure."

Floyd Lawton shrugs, "I took a potshot at him myself, when he made that giant tiger woman in New York. Stupid holograms. I only shot for fun anyway," he shrugs, "It wouldn't have killed him...probably," he chuckles.

"That guy makes all our lives difficult. His crazy ass antics draw attention, publicity, encourage other people to follow in his nutty footsteps. Someday, if the Bat doesn't take him out...the rest of us will."

"Can't happen soon enough," Eddie muttered darkly. He'd never be the trigger man, but he could agree with the sentiment; the only good Joker was a dead Joker. "I suppose he's the last big flash criminal, now, with me out of the picture."

Edward grinned, and then said, "Plan to exaction, then flash for distraction. Words to live by. Or rob by. Whichever."

Floyd Lawton laughs, shrugging, "Yeah, not many of the neon spandex crowd left these days. I'm sure Crazy Quilt's out there, elaborately robbing, like, laundromats in Kansas..." he smirks.

"I'm okay with layin' low. Makes my life easier. But it was kinda fun, bein' all over the top. I mean, I wore a top hat and tails, my first time. I spun my guns around my fingers! What a turd..."

"Actually, he turned up recently. My money's actually on Doodlebug showing up!" Edward said with a laugh. "But there's no shame in havng style. I just-- couldn't carry ono the body tight spandex after thirty." He started going a little soft in the middle, okay. It happens! "But suits are better, no? I think so, at least. Gives a man an impression of dignity."

Floyd Lawton grins, "I still break out my costume sometimes. My rep makes it worthwhile to let people know who they're dealin' with. Plus, I spent so much damn money on those wrist guns, I might as well get good use out of 'em," he says.

"Dignity's kind of overrated. I'll take a steak in my belly, a smoke in my mouth and a girl in my bed. Let other people chase respect."

"I beg to differ. I prefer dignity. I also--"

Edward stopped as his phone beeped, and he fished it out of his pocket to look at it. He frowned, and then pocketed it again. "Duty calls, I'm afraid. Dignity will hopefully hold me through all of this post-case drama! Do keep yourself safe-- and off the radar, would you?"

Floyd Lawton grins, "Don't worry about me, Riddler. I'll be just fine. Go, be a gumshoe. Don't forget to get a breast pump so you can feed yer kid when you get home." he teases, moving to settle back into the shadowy depths of the barr.

It was with rogue camaraderie that Edward packed up, gave Floyd the finger, and said, "Nice talking to you, Lawton," and headed for the door.