@hrlyqn continued from here.
The news of Roman’s death finds him quickly, and though such a thing should fill him with delight, he feels. . .let down. Like the other male had FAILED him. Oswald knew the risks of turning on the man, he knew the risks of fighting alongside Harley and the Birds of Prey. . .but it was to cause pandemonium, not to see his greatest rival fall to someone other than himself. It made him angry, withdrawn and a bit callous. . .and though he knows the Harlequin has been found, he finds little relief in such news and orders his men to bring her in. It seems that only a solid forty minutes pass by before he gets the call from one of his men, telling them that they were on their way back to the Birdcage.
Leather gloved hands meet, allowing a loud clap to echo in his large office, and on cue, a large cage covered in a purple sheet is pushed through the double doors by two of his most bulky men. Penguin motions lazily with a limp wrist to a corner, his motion frozen until the cage is secured in place via small locks on its wheels. Only then does the Kingpin approach, his eyelids resting at half-mast as he reaches out, snatching the sheet so that he can pull it off the cage and the instant such is down, the hyena stares him down, a mixture of groans and growls leaving its jowls which earns the creature a smile as the raven-haired male holds a hand out to one of his men that present him with a key to the cage, which is placed in his inner breast pocket. Next, he tells the men to leave and to return once Harley had been brought in. . .and once they leave he finds himself fixing a martini at a small bar built into the corner of the room. It seems the moment he is moving back across the room to look over a painting of his adoptive mother that the pale woman is ushered in.
It makes his heart nearly ache with how she speaks, after all, it is something he can relate to. Animals; they had been the best companions one could ask for. . .they didn't lie, cheat, steal or betray. They were reliable, least more than any person he had grown to know. He surrounded himself with animals, and even in the room he stood in, an iron birdcage hangs from the ceiling near his desk, suspended by a black chain. The bird inside a small red factory canary who watches the female who pleads with Oswald. There's a heavy inhale taken in through his nostrils though as he releases it, a hand is held up to stop her, his eyes rolling as he shakes his head.
"Enough with the caterwauling Ms. Quinn. I do not enjoy such frivolous things, they will only make things worse. Pull yourself together. Your. . .hyena, he had minor burns but I had a veterinarian care for him after we discovered him in Chinatown. . .I am well aware of how much he matters to you, so spare me from any tears. We had a deal, you and I. . .did we not?" He speaks with authority, brows lifting as the martini glass finally meets his lips, the mixture of vodka and vermouth traveling down his throat before it is set down on a glass table the rested just aside the door to his private office. He turns slowly back to her, his fingertips meeting in front of him as his brows furrow heavily. ". . .The diamond, and his mask. I have one of those things already, as for the other. . .I do believe you have it. Give me that and you can have him back. . .it's a simple exchange, one I suggest you take." A hand moves to push back his suit jacket to show a gun holstered at his side. "The diamond to me is worthless but it symbolizes something for me. That is why I want it. . .but we also need to speak of what happens after, as I'm sure you have expected."
