Riddle Me That

awww why not

You seem to have some deep misunderstanding about the sort of working relationship Dr. Crane and I have.

Clothes lending is not a thing that happens.

I don’t think green is quite my color anyway.

I don't know, it could be.

#jocelyncrane

awww why not

You seem to have some deep misunderstanding about the sort of working relationship Dr. Crane and I have.

Clothes lending is not a thing that happens.

aw come on, you never loaned her your jacket or anything? :3c

...No.

has joyclan ever borrowed your clothes

Why would Dr. Crane ever borrow my clothes? Anon, are you drunk.

#ask riddler #what prompted this #anonymous

Has Roman ever stolen your clothing?

...As in Sionis? As in Black Mask, Sionis?

Erm... no.

Are you going to touch scarecrow butt?

Excuse me?

Jocelyn Crane and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day(/te)

Crane snorts. ”You have a point.” She glances over and catches Edward grinning at her. That is… Not conductive to driving. At all. She firmly redirects her eyes toward the road when the rest of what he said catches up. ”You were expecting me to fear gas you?” And didn’t even try to leave.

She can’t help the pleased, nasty grin on her face when Jack Ryder cuts in to give Gotham all the gory details of her alleged heist. She chuckles along with Edward right up until… Really. Jocelyn reaches over and turns the radio off, scowling. ”As if I’d be seen with Arthur Brown!”

Fortunately it’s not much farther to her hideout. She pulls up behind the nondescript building in a sea of other nondescript buildings and shuts the engine off. From there it’s just a matter of gathering up the food and her purse and getting into her damn lair.

#jocelyncrane #narrative #[v: default]

"I did pick that absolute winner of a restaurant," Eddie answers with a shrug. That he'd had no intention of running from Scarecrow's wrath hadn't even gotten much of a second thought, really. As soon as he'd realized fear gas was definitely A Thing That Would Happen he'd come to the conclusion fleeing only to be dosed with fear toxin was considerably more humiliating than just letting it happen. If he's going to end up a sobbing, screaming mess, he's going to try to retain a little dignity first.

The news just leaves him frowning - even with Crane's little exclaimation. "Cluemaster," He mutters indignantly as she pulls in and parks at her decidedly nondescript safehouse. He's already shaking off some of his annoyance by the time he climbs out of the car and grabs the wine, if only because he's already starting to plan his next big thing. Cluemaster. Cluemaster. He'll just have to remind the city - and that imbecile Ryder - who he is, won't he?

But those are things to dwell on later. He backburners his schemes to get his name back in the headlines (ARTHUR BROWN, how dare the) and instead follows along behind Crane. He should probably find something to redirect his gaze to. Um. This... this is a really terrible building, isn't it. He'll stare at all the cracks and stains and maybe she didn't notice.

writingdesksimile-deactivated20

"Paradise…" She raised an eyebrow before looking around. Honest, the place seemed pretty awful. Not that it was anything new. She’d been in many awful places and they all were more or less the same in most aspects. "You don’t really… seem like you own the place. Do you?” She tilted her head a little bit.

"The nomadic lifestyle isn’t for everyone." She shrugged a little bit, using a word that Samuel used to use to describe how they traveled without ever really settling in one place. "Sometimes I know where I am…" She knew when she overheard someone say something or could recognize famous landmarks, but other than that, she was usually screwed.

#writingdesksimile #[v: default]#narrative #[i just realized this was sitting in my drafts adjkasdjksd gdi ;~;]

"That was sarcasm, miss. And not technically. Or legally. But that's - hardly the point," He scratches the back of his head and frowns briefly at the question. Ownership is such a tricky thing, especially for people like him. Paper trails are the enemy of people who don't want to be constantly tracked down by police.

"People - people like me - stake claims in parts of the city as theirs. Some blocks belong to the Maronis," He attempts to explain, gesturing vaguely. "Or the Falcones, or Penguin, or whoever. This little bit is... kind of mine."

It's not often the Riddler feels lost, but, well... he is. Not quite as much as she apparently is, but explaining the way turf works in Gotham is not something he'd expected to do. Especially for a guy like him, who's more free agent than gang leader. Not that she needs to know that.

"I would... imagine not." He's not sure how one could even manage that without ever figuring out where they are, but he also lives someplace terrorized by madmen in colorful costumes (himself included) so perhaps he shouldn't be quite so skeptical. "Well, you're in New Jersey now." He pauses for a second before adding with a fairly awkward, slightly apologetic smile, "God help you."

andresisbatman

RIDDLAH by ~daccat

#art

Jocelyn Crane and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day(/te)

That’s… definitely not what Crane was expecting. There’s a moment where she almost forgets to respond, but she nods and leads the way to her car. The food and her bag get stowed in the back down on the floor behind the driver’s seat. Once Edward’s in and settled, she starts up the car and pulls out of the parking lot. The winding route she takes to put some distance between them and the restaurant means she has a moment before they need to discuss just where they’re going, though they’ll likely end up at her current hideout unless he suggests otherwise.

As much as she needs to focus on driving, there is something nagging at Jocelyn a little. She snorts and shakes her head a little. ”Why wouldn’t you?” She pauses briefly to finally tug the mask off her face. ”I don’t know, perhaps because the entire evening was a disaster culminating in my fear gassing the restaurant? Or was that what you had in mind?” She laughs bitterly.

Eddie stows the bottles of wine on the floorboards behind the passenger seat before climbing in upfront. He relaxes into the passenger seat as they get underway, where ever it is they're getting underway to. Possibly to Crane's hideout. He idly flicks on the radio for some kind of background noise, not bothering to change the station.

"Fear-gassing the restaurant was about the best endgame for this evening. I suppose we could have just let things continue to be exponentially more miserable. Maybe the waiter would have managed to light one of us on fire. Wouldn't that have been exciting?" He regard's Crane's questions with a quirked brow and a very lopsided sort of grin. "All things considered... I'm mostly pleasantly surprised you didn't fear-gas me."

It's right about then that he catches a very familiar jingle from the radio - breaking news. He leans in and turns it up a bit. Jack Ryder reporting in, in all his obnoxious glory. Eddie's missed the first few lines but it's not hard to catch on. Scarecrow has struck again! Poor hapless, innocent Gothamites struck down by fear toxin while enjoying their dinners. Eddie settles back into his seat, chuckling smugly.

"Scarecrow was last seen allegedly fleeing the scene in the company of one Arthur Brown, otherwise known as the Cluemaster," Chirps the radio.

And then, just as suddenly, the laughing stops - he can practically hear the needlescratch of a record in his head. "What?" Eddie almost sputters, scowling deeply. "Did he just - Arthur Brown! We don't even look anything alike."

#jocelyncrane #narrative

Jocelyn Crane and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day(/te)

Out the back is definitely the best way to leave. Scarecrow does have to pause briefly to spray the kitchen staff as well, after spying one of them nervously peering out the door. Never one to leave a job half done, she steps over the screaming cook (something about dogs) and into the kitchen to make sure none of them are in any state of mind to call the cops. Third canister deployed, she turns to leave. Wait. Is that…? It is.

Sitting on the counter are several boxed and bagged to-go orders. Well well. Crane grabs all three of them on her way out. She is still hungry, after all. ”Something to go with the wine,” she says to Edward on her way past him toward the back door.

Once outside, she stops halfway to her car and turns. It occurs to her that they might be about to part ways for the evening, unless Edward wants to come along. Which uh, considering she just kind of ruined dinner… Jocelyn clears her throat. ”Care to continue this elsewhere?”

He’s probably going to say no. Why wouldn’t he? The evening was a disaster even before she started fear gassing people.