Day 52: Library (2nd shift)

[longlivetehking]

Scar possibly couldn't have been more thrilled at the prospect of being escorted to the library. He had visited this particular room plenty of times to know that it was entirely useless and uninteresting - like most daytime activities, for that matter. Still, the nurse seemed rather convinced he'd like one of those silly books filled with papers

Comments

[unheroed]

Surprisingly enough, breakfast hadn't been completely useless. Scott was a bit of a twitchy kid, but he wasn't a drag to talk to and he'd given him his own version of what he'd encountered in the basement, which could prove useful in the end. Of the people that he'd gotten to meet during that crazy night, Scott was the one that he'd been most interested in talking to. He had no way of tracking down the costumed kid and the boy with the floating light was a little too out there for his tastes. Ryuuzaki and Lunge he had obviously spoken to before

[enigmaestro]

A connection well made, it seemed, between Edward and Norman Osborn. Something to be said of men with similar ambitions, no doubt, and similar concerns. Their breakfast ended without much ceremony -- or many answers -- and Edward found himself ushered into another pattern. He cringed at the thought of living within this structure, a maze not of his own design. It was a troublesome idea, the sort of thoughts of coal that fired nightmares.

He stepped into the library, he foot placing a creak over a floorboard. The sound sliced through the general silence. At the very least, he noted, it wasn't a completely dismal collection. Nothing to admire, but nothing to curl away from. That was something to fear; a lack of available knowledge altogether. Such was the bane of Arkham, in its early days, and that's when the darker moments took grasp. He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the notions of Arkham. This was not the same place, and that was worth repetition. Not the same place

[unheroed]

Without being able to refer to the bulletin board itself to write his notes, Harvey had to do his best to make up the list from memory, at least for the time being. He had appointments scheduled for both lunch and the shift after it now, which meant that he'd have time then to get everything set in stone. But more patients might reply to his note throughout the day, so he had to keep that in mind as well.

Police Chief, detective in the homicide division, a few anonymous and unexplained replies... But the overwhelming amount of people who fit his criteria were attorneys. There were more prosecutors than defense attorneys; out of the overall group, some had disappeared, while a few had managed to stay around for as long as a month (or so they claimed).

As the others had noticed, the numbers seemed to out-match any other profession, at least as far as he had been able to tell. There weren't as many doctors (maybe they all got "recruited" to be therapists), as many businessmen, as many accountants. Some of that likely had to do with

[enigmaestro]

A pause followed, a mere moment or two of silence, before Eddie resumed his smile. Harvey hadn't recognized him, which was curious in itself, and just a touch disturbing. He leaned in a fraction closer, watching Harvey with an unrepentant intensity, taking note of the other man's expressions. The subdued noise of the room bolstered his stare, and Eddie took full advantage of the unnerving atmosphere he created. His smirk deepened before he took a single step back, his hands were open and casually nonthreatening

[unheroed]

The guy was staring at him. Unabashedly, at that. It was almost enough to make Harvey recoil in his seat, but he was too proud for that. He'd looked killers in the eye countless times and had watched them break into a confession under his stare. He could play this game, even if he was only staring with one eye at the moment.

Still, there was something about the way the stranger was looking at him. Unlike most people, he didn't seem to be eyeing the bandages and imagining the monstrosity beneath. No, instead he was watching the undamaged side of his face, as if looking for the subtleties of half an expression. It made him tense his shoulder blades under the scrutiny.

And everything this man was saying seemed to indicate that they were supposed to know each other. No, that he knew Harvey and that Harvey was supposed to know him. Not a random Gothamite who had seen his face on television ads and billboards, then. Was this really a repeat of what had taken place with Jason

[enigmaestro]

"How reassuring," he said, armed with a deeper smirk. The affirmation that others had approached Harvey soothed Eddie's own anxiety; this wasn't a hallucination. Or, at the very least, it was an elaborate hallucination rather than some shoddy attempt at schizophrenic synapses. He slipped his hand into his uniformed pockets, adopting a stance of nonchalance.

"So who else has claimed to know you? To borrow your phrasing, of course, Mr. Dent." He kept his sneer in check; no need to patronize such an interesting specimen. Judging by the degree of Harvey's frown, Eddie was already toeing the line. He tilted his head, watching silently for a moment more. Charm set in, seeping through his veins, and his sharp smile eased into something more warm.

"And, more importantly, who else knows that you're here? Surely your ex-wife would be worried?" Eddie's emphasis of concern was convincing, if feigned. Gilda hadn't spoken with Dent in years, and this was all very public knowledge. Hurtful public knowledge.

[unheroed]

Harvey didn't see what was so reassuring about it; from his side of things, the idea that someone could know all sorts of things about him while he didn't have a clue was actually pretty infuriating. But if he was judging this stranger right just from a first impression, he didn't seem like the sort of person who would care. Just like Jason had been largely unhelpful most of the time that they'd known each other in this place

[enigmaestro]

Jason Todd. Jason Todd. The name sounded a bell in his mind, although the vibration was faint. Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne's one-time ward. Memories floated tot he top of his mind with his synaptic shocks, headline and rumor. It had been a few years ago, hadn't it? Nearly seven. Poor kid died in a bombing incident overseas, thanks to the hapless care of his benefactor. Tragic. Brief. Unremarkable. Eddie's lip curled under the image of triumph.

"Goodness, that's a blast from the past," he said, his pun extremely intended. What Eddie couldn't recall -- thanks to his own little blast to the head -- was that Jason Todd hadn't remained dead, nor was he simply a billionaire's fashionable orphan. The thoughts rambled by, suppressed by the gravity of amnesia. He offered a shrug in the wake of sharp words, gliding over the Todd reference. If anything, such stood as stern proof that this man wasn't merely a coincidence. Harvey Dent's name and his face were too deeply rooted in fact to be coincidence

[unheroed]

That comment made it clear from the start that this guy knew Jason somehow, which only made it more certain that he was from the same "version" of Gotham. Harvey hated to be confronted with this again, but he was also eager for information and annoyed that he was only being given scraps without the full story. He really didn't want to talk about Jason right now. He wanted to talk about himself, about the fact that apparently there was a Harvey Dent out there with a wife