It’s been two days since the festival, since the shooting and Yelena’s unfortunate run-in with that maniac. She’s still a little sore, she hasn’t been to work - not to either of her jobs, giving herself a chance to heal. Bruises don’t play well to the camera, and they don’t help her operate when she’s chasing down a target, so she’s largely spent her time in her apartment. The message she received, though, was enough to pique her interest, and after carefully weighing the pros and cons. If she goes and it’s some sort of trap, she’s healed enough to be able to fight or flee effectively. And if not... well, it could be interesting in some way, at the very least.
She dresses casually, jeans and a dark red blouse pulled over the garrotte wire strapped to her back, black leather jacket to hide her gun, and a scarf around her neck to hide the worst of the bruising on her skin, and knee-high boots to conceal a knife, as she makes her way to the address in the message, finding her destination is a night club, one she’s somewhat familiar with. The owner, from what she’s heard, is an... interesting man, and perhaps this won’t be an entire waste of time.
After flashing the ‘invitation’ to the men at the door she’s lead inside, keen eyes taking note of her surroundings immediately. It’s certainly not the only exit, but it would be the easiest one if not for the guards. No, if an escape is needed she’s likely better off finding another way, though the unknown elements in the rest of the club make that difficult to determine. Yelena keeps her breathing even as she approaches the man, holding up the card again and raising an eyebrow at him. “The compliment is flattering, very gentlemanly. I can’t help but wonder just how much on that card is in fact true, though.” She smirks and flicks the card onto the table, watching it land on the surface before she turns her gaze back to him. The statement that he’s been ‘watching her’ is amusing to say the least - she’s untraceable, and she knows it.
Though she tried not to, Isabella couldn’t help but glance over to where Edward and Oswald were standing. She wondered what they were talking about, but couldn’t bring herself to go over to them uninvited. It was seemed to be a serious conversation, judging from their expressions. She would only have been interrupting.
She hadn’t moved from the couch since she’d made herself a cup of tea, over an hour ago. She had talked to Sabrina for a little while, but after the girl had left, Isabella had stayed where she was. It wasn’t that she felt unsafe to move in Oswald’s mansion -- if he wanted her dead, she assumed he wouldn’t kill her while Edward was also in the house -- but doing anything other than just sitting there seemed beyond her, right at that moment.
She noticed that Edward and Oswald had finished speaking, and Oswald turned and started walking over to her. Automatically, thoughtlessly, she straightened up a little, and tensed. It was ridiculous -- he apparently meant her no harm -- but she couldn’t help it. Old habits died hard. When he reached her, she smiled a little coldly at him.
“Hello Mr. Cobblepot,” she said. “I never got the chance to thank you for bringing us here. It was very kind of you.”
The job had been easier than Yelena expected. The target was clumsy with his information, it was simple to get into his data and find what she needed to expose him. Easier still to send the information to the right sources to have him exposed, his disgusting habits open to all of the right people in the world, those who would cause the most damage simply by knowing, just as she’d been requested to do so. And on the day he was exposed and people begun to get wind of what he’d done, Yelena had been waiting in his apartment, and she’d dealt with him accordingly - a single gunshot to the head, right between his eyebrows, and left behind the pendant to leave the blame elsewhere. The scene was clear of any trace of her.
She didn’t need to bring proof back to Cobblepot’s club - the proof was everywhere, reports rushing around the city, the murder on the news. There’s no need to have brought anything to confirm her job had been done. If anything, she’s sure Oswald had kept track of her workings through this job anyway.
The morning after the job had been completed, she finds another card with a time, another little penguin printed on the card to confirm her assumption that it was Cobblepot. Her day is clear of course - the last of her bruises is fading and she’ll be making her way back into her day job tomorrow, but for the time being she is free and clear and makes her appearance at his club at the requested time - just after midday, the streets are busy but the club is, of course, empty.
After a quick check by the guards, Yelena makes her way into the club to find the man waiting for her, of course, just as she’d expected. “I’m sure you’ve heard the good news.” She states simply as she takes a seat, once again setting the card down on the bar. “I believe it should be to your satisfaction. The man won’t be troubling you again.
Summary: Edward and Isabella go to Oswald’s house for dinner
Trigger warnings: Paranoia, mentions of death, mentions of murder
Written by: @ofintellectualpenguins, @riddlesreformed, @kristencoded
Oswald: Oswald paced around the dining room, grouchy as ever and checking off his mental checklist as he did. “I DON’T UNDERSTAND!” He practically screeched. “I said HALIBUT! She made Pot roast?!? I wanted FISH!” His henchman tried to calm him but nothing seemed to suffice. To be fair, Os just wanted a nice dinner with his friend and his succubus. He even made sure to have an exorcist on speed dial — his priest friend who’d never judge him.
“What are you standing there looking at me for!?” An octave higher and he’d shatter the windows but everyone knew by now that if he got this loud they needed to get out of his way. “The glasses, place them to the left of each setting please! Oh and I want the finest wine in the cellar. Yes I know we just filled out. I DON’T CARE!” His old friend Joker had been so hospitable, setting him up with his new position and helping him furnish his new home. How he missed his friends dearly.
“Boss, are we poisoning her today or…?” Penguin gripped his cane tightly, his nostril flaring from his sneer. “How… DARE you? DO NOT EVER repeat those words around me again! IsabellAH is my guest! She will not be poisoned today!”
Today. Tomorrow was a different story.
He finally took a deep breath deciding not to kill his henchman or the cook and simply sat in his chaise awaiting the arrival of his guests.
Edward: The interview had placed the man in a particularly good mood that day. He had driven his car to Isabella's to walk with her to the bus stop. It was his way of making sure she was going to go. Still in his best suit from the interview, a charcoal, three-piece suit. A black tie with his old question mark tie clip he made from a typewriter himself (a long time ago). It was amazing that he had kept such a small thing. But it was one of his first items he had done with a question mark on it. The first of his brand. Edward was sentimental, he kept things like that.
He wondered what made bussing easier to Isabella then riding in a car. Perhaps it was the option of having an area she could stand in instead of sit? There were no seat belts to hold her down and the emergency door in the back made it 'safer'. None the less, he was happy to ride with her – mostly because he was just happy she was really coming. Ed was just bursting with pride. Wanting to tell them both about his possible new position.
Once they made it to Oswald's, Edward rung the doorbell and gave Isabella a look. Curious about how she felt about this.
Isabella: Ever since Edward had told her about this dinner, Isabella had been dreading it. Logically, she knew that she wasn't in any danger. Not because Edward had made Oswald promise he wouldn't hurt her – the promise of a criminal lunatic meant nothing to her – but because she didn't feel pain, and she was armed with Joker’s knife. She was also stronger than both Edward and Oswald. Logically, she knew that. But that didn't stop her heart from pounding on the way to Oswald's house.
Why did it have to be at his house? What if he gunned her down the moment she walked through the door? What if he stabbed her in the back? She wasn't going to eat or drink anything, in case it was poisoned. She might not have been able to feel pain, but she didn't know how indestructible she was.
But none of her concern showed on her face, and she adopted the same blank expression that she had worn when she'd spoken to Joker at his club. Unreadable, empty, and cold.
She and Edward were silent on the bus journey there, which was both a blessing and a mercy. Isabella couldn't think of a single thing to say.
When, at last, they arrived at Oswald's front door, she caught Edward's glance and immediately broke away, to look back at the door. She wanted to meet Oswald's gaze when he opened the door. She didn't want to be caught off guard. The only sign that she was afraid was her hands, which were clasped together tightly in front of her, so tightly that she thought her knuckles would burst through her skin.
Oswald: Oswald, despite knowing his guests would be arriving at his door soon, still jumped at the sound of his bell ringing, dramatically so and one of his henchmen came over to straighten out his suit patting him here and there causing Oswald to glare and swat him away. “OKAY! ENOUGH!”
He took a deep breath as the other backed away and the Penguin rolled his shoulders back, gripping his cane and limping over to the door. “Who is it?” he shouted in a sing-song tone and opened his door wide open “JUST KIDDING! I knew it was you two, silly geese!” Tone it down, Jesus fucking Christ.
He stepped to the side to the two could walk in and he paid close attention the body language. They were obviously more than just friends but whatever, it wasn’t a time to dissect. “Come in! We’re in the middle of arranging a lot but I’m rather proud of how it looks right now. Isabella, you look lovely. Is that a Jewel Neckline? You look ravishing.” She looked like an idiot but that was besides the point.
Edward: Edward grinned widely as his friend opened the door. Inviting the two of them inside, "Hilarious, Oswald." He said, not being sarcastic at all about his friend's joke when he opened the door. "I have a joke too. Well, it's more of a riddle. What do you call a Penguin with a machine gun?" The riddle seeming to come out of nowhere, but Edward always had tons of them and this one he considered quite entertaining.
Oswald complimented Isabella and Eddie looked her over as well. She was quite beautiful, but that was to be expected. In everything she wore he found her ravishing. After a moment too long, he pulled his eyes away from Isabella. She was only his friend, nothing more. And he didn't want to give the wrong impression to Oswald. If she didn't mean much to him, Oswald wouldn't consider her a threat to their relationship.
Isabella: When the door opened, Isabella inhaled sharply through her nose, and forced herself to stay completely still. She looked at Oswald, and didn't smile at his over the top charade. It was easier to see him than it had been to see Edward for the first time, because he hadn't directly killed her. Her only unpleasant memory of Oswald was when he'd come to her apartment, to break up with her on Edward's behalf. But she knew who he was, and what he was capable of.
She walked past him, grateful that Edward was between them, and nodded once at Oswald's compliment. If they were going to play that game, then she could play with the best. She flashed him a smile. "Why, thank you, Mr. Cobblepot! And thank you so must for having us." She mocked his overly excited tone, jovial and exaggeratedly friendly, but her gaze was telling. Her smile didn't meet her eyes.
She glanced at Edward in disbelief, and realised that she shouldn't have been surprised. He used riddles to alleviate his nerves. She knew that. "Actually, Edward, that is more of a joke. But come on, Mr. Cobblepot." She turned to Oswald and smiled, a little more triumphantly than she should have. It was a stupid, childish, test. "What do you call a Penguin with a machine gun?"
Oswald: Oswald smiled even wider than Isabella as he greeted her into his home. The fact that he was doing this for Ed spoke volumes of how much he wanted to cooperate and if Factory refurbished Barbie didn’t get that then Edward really needed an eye opener. Not today. Today he’d be on his best behavior. He wanted to shower Edward and Polly Pocket with the greatest meal, compliments, and of course dessert.
“Thank you, dear.” He replied to the woman and grinned as he looked up to Edward. “I have no idea…” He looked over to Isabella, with a stern expression. “Some of us aren’t good at riddles you see. I leave that to someone capable like Ed here. But please…do tell!” He had been too stressed to even conjure up a reply. A penguin with a machine gun? That was him on a Saturday!
He took Isabella’s coat and passed it to his henchman. “Be careful with that. It’s fine quality.” And then he led them towards the living area. “Please have seat. Dinner should be ready soon. So, Edward, Isabella... How have you two been? Really.”
Edward: "You call him sir!" Edward gestured to the henchman, "At least he would!" He laughed, unable to stop himself. Edward did consider himself funny – he was probably the only one but that never stopped him. His grin stayed settled on his face.
Ed was happy to see Oswald and Isabella both behaving. Though it was obvious Isabella was uncomfortable, she was tensed up in the shoulders. He wanted to move behind her and curl his fingers around her muscles to relax them for her – but that was likely considered inappropriate. So he held off.
He walked after Oswald into the living area. Having a seat as he was told. "I've been absolutely splendid! This week has been incredible for me. Besides a couple of mishaps, of course." He boasted, glancing to Isabella for her answer.
Isabella: Isabella met Oswald's gaze, and was surprised to see that there was no challenge there at all. He must have been really trying to keep up appearances. If she wasn't so full of hatred and disgust, she might have been impressed.
She had about five seconds to realise that Oswald was reaching for her coat, and she mentally thanked Hugo Strange for implanting all the clones with impeccable poise. She fought every instinct, and managed not to flinch when he helped her out of it. She'd assumed that he would take it, and had the forethought to keep Joker's knife in her clutch bag, which she wouldn't dare put down.
Edward's joke was just as ridiculous as she'd expected, but she laughed weakly at it anyway, to keep up the game. Her laughter trailed off, and she stopped smiling all together.
At Oswald's request, they walked into the living area, and she waited until Edward was sitting down before sitting too. Her whole body was tense, coiled like a spring. She felt at a disadvantage, sitting when Oswald was standing, but she gripped her bag a little tighter, and kept her gaze trained on him. "I've been fine, thank you," she said, politely. "I ran into an old work colleague, which was a pleasant surprise. It was lovely to catch up with him after so long."
Oswald: Oswald genuinely laughed at Edward's joke. It was a nice way to move along from the awkward and from the lack of sincerity on both Isabella's and Oswald's behalf. He actually felt some guilt especially hearing that Edward had a good week. That caught his attention of course. Anything positive coming from the same friend that had been crestfallen just days ago was welcomed in Oswald's eyes. He might be selfish but his barriers came down for his old friend.
"A whole week? We must drink to that!" And he flashed an exaggerated smile to his henchman who practically slipped and fell when they made their way down to the cellar. Oswald would take care of him later. He shouldn't have to repeat himself. It was so hard getting decent help these days.
When Isabella spoke, he sat on one of the empty couches, crossing one leg over the other, listening to what she had to say. "Oh! How grand! I ran into an old friend too and now here we are! Old friends are always beneficial to keep. They know all our secrets." He winked at the woman, surprised that she even had any friends. Were drones even able to communicate? He wondered how that worked.
Edward: Edward smiled to his friend, he had been a good luck charm. Why, as soon as he came back, things seemed to start turning around for him. How strange.
"Oh!" He said suddenly hitting his head lightly with the palm of his hand. "I should have given you the wine at the door. How forgetful of me." He said, taking it out and passing it off to Oswald. He had been so caught up in his joy that this was happening that he had forgotten all about giving the wine to Oswald. What a disorganized mess he was!
His stomach had butterflies in them ever since they got to the door. Perhaps it was for Isabella. Some nervousness on her behalf. Edward had nothing to worry about in his best friend's house but Isabella was so tense.
He placed a hand lightly on Isabella's shoulder. Trying to bring her some ease. "Ran into an old friend...? Who?" He asked her curiously. Wondering if that old friend was from her life as Kristen made the smile he previously had fade.
Isabella: It was a small relief when Oswald sat down. Isabella knew that she was being irrational – Oswald's infamous moniker came from his limp, didn't it? Even if he did try to attack her from across the room, she would have been faster than him. Even standing, Isabella was taller than him. And yet, she felt a weight lift from her shoulders when he sat down and listened to her and Edward speak, apparently enraptured.
He looked completely at ease, but Isabella couldn't relax. She wasn't as on edge, now they were all sitting, but she was still sitting with a ramrod straight back, her knees crossed, and her hands clasped together on her knees, with her clutch bag in one hand.
She glanced to Edward when he held out the wine. Though she had seen him carry it the entire way here, she still didn't want to drink it. What if her glass was coated in something? What if something was slipped into her drink when she wasn't looking? She certainly wasn't going to drink the wine Oswald ordered from the cellar.
She just looked at him when he blinked at her. What was his angle? Was he genuinely trying to befriend her? It felt like he was being patronising. She gripped her knee a little tighter.
She was so distracted by Oswald's pleasantries, his odd attempt at a private joke, that she jumped a little when Edward put his hand on her shoulder, and turned to him. "I'm sorry?" she asked. "Oh. Yes. I ran into Jim Gordon at the coffeehouse." She turned back to Oswald, and her tone was decidedly colder. "I don't actually have any secrets to keep from the Commissioner, Mr. Cobblepot. He's just an old friend."
Oswald: Oswald pressed his lips together into a thin line. Watching Edward comfort the harlot from the blue lagoon proved to be almost too much for him and he decided he needed to loosen up to continue with this charade.
"No dear. Not to keep secrets from. Keep secrets with." Seriously? How vapid was she? "Jim Gordon is a good man. I'm glad you two are friends. What about you Edward? What's got you so thrilled?"
His henchman finally returned with three glasses and the wine from the cellar to which Oswald rolled his eyes. "I change my mind. We'll have whatever Edward brought." And with that, Oswald handed the bottle to the other who then popped the screw off to pour.
Edward: Jim Gordon? He bit his lip a little. He was friends with Jim as well. He wondered if Isabella would tell him about what he had done. He let go of her shoulder almost awkwardly. About to ask her about what her and Jim had talked about when Oswald addressed him instead, glancing over at him.
"Oh!" His mood was beginning to brighten again as he thought about how his efforts at work finally paid off. He had done this on his own and fairly. And it only proved how great he was at his job and how his reformation really could work out for him. "I finally had an interview this morning for the position I wanted. I think I got it, he seemed extremely impressed by what I'm capable of. As he should have been, of course." He said, just gleaming. Finally he was seen for the impressive man that he truly was.
Isabella: Every time Oswald called her dear made Isabella's skin crawl. He'd done it twice already. She realised that she'd missed his point completely. She'd hardly been following what he'd been saying.
And that was when she realised she couldn't wallow in her own fear. It was distracting her, making her less sharp. Paranoid thoughts were clouding her judgement. In trying to weigh up everything Oswald was saying and doing, trying to spot the hidden meaning in his every word, she was neglecting to focus.
She tore her gaze away from Oswald, and smiled brightly at Edward, her genuine happiness at his news dampened by their present company. "Oh my, Edward, that's wonderful! I'm sure you've got it. That was the coroner position, wasn't it?" She remembered how much he had wanted that job back at the G.C.P.D., and she imagined that hadn't changed.
When the wine and glasses were carried into the room, Isabella cleared her throat a little. Who knew what Oswald's lackey had been ordered to coat her glass in, while he was out of the room? Was Oswald trying to back her into a corner? It would have been a little odd, but still within the realms of politeness, to refuse a glass of the host's wine. But to refuse to drink Edward's? He wanted to make her look paranoid. He wanted to make her look distrusting. Well, she wouldn't let herself be cowed by him.
She drew her shoulders back a little, and raised her free hand to gesture no. "Oh, none for me, thank you, Mr. Cobblepot," she said, her tone civil, but barely veiling her coldness. "I honestly don't feel like drinking. But please, you two go ahead."
Oswald: Oswald was practically beaming as Edward expressed his joy over the interview. He had this. Sure Oswald did have a hand in the all but in the end, it would be Edward's skills that got him the job. "Well done old friend! Why I always knew you'd end up chief coroner. I hope you mentioned your experience in politics. They just love hearing that. We should toast then."
That's when Medusa spoke and decided to ruin the entire thing! "You're not drinking with us? Oh don't be silly, Isabella. It's a toast." Was she pregnant?! "Wait. You’re not ...?" His eyes flickered towards her abdomen. "I have non-alcoholic beverages as well..." Was this the motive for Edward's desperation in them meeting again? He was about to lose a week's worth of meals.
Edward: "Yes, chief coroner." He told Isabella with a smile. Glancing back to Ozzy as he congratulated him as well. "Thank you, my friends!" He said, including both of them. He was still pretty excited, though anyone could see Edward was far more superior then those he worked with. He was the only genius on staff. The only one remotely qualified for the position, in his opinion, anyway.
He was about to join in with Oswald, telling the woman he cared about to join them in a toast. Then – Oswald's over dramatic voice peaked again. Implying she was pregnant. Ed shot a look at her as well. The smile off his face again. Shocked at the mere suggestion of it.
"Isabella?" He had a million questions in his head and all of them needed answers, immediately. If she was pregnant, who did she sleep with? Was she seeing someone else? Why did the idea of that make him feel a pang of jealousy? He shouldn't be feeling this way. Isabella wasn't his. He swallowed, waiting patiently for her response to Oswald's question. "You're not even seeing anyone... right? Why would you be –"
Isabella: Don't be silly, Isabella. As much as she was loathed to admit it, was Oswald right? Was she being paranoid? But one look at him reminded her exactly of what kind of man he was. It wasn't paranoid to assume that the man who had orchestrated a train collision to get her out of the way would attempt to poison her.
She was about to explain that she just didn't feel like drinking wine, when he insinuated that she was pregnant.
Oh, god.
Was this another ploy? He had to know why she didn't want to drink anything, didn’t he? Or was she giving him too much credit? Maybe he didn't think she was smart enough to realise he might poison her.
She turned sharply to Edward, hardly believing what she was hearing. He thought she was pregnant? He believed Oswald's unbelievable accusation? She let out a disbelieving laugh.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," she snapped, hardly wanting to warrant that ridiculous thought with a response. "Of course I'm not pregnant, Mr. Cobblepot." She had the sudden urge to cover her stomach, but stopped herself, and kept her hands together on her knees.
And righteous fury, which she hadn't felt for months, coursed through her again. She glared at Oswald, her head held high, and her entire body tense. "I'm just not going to drink anything from the glass of a man who orchestrated my murder," she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, edged with hatred.
Saying it was almost a relief. They had been acting up until this point, dancing around why Edward had organised this insane meet-up. But now she'd said it, and she didn't even blink as she met Oswald's gaze.
Oswald: Oswald swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. Up until now he had been doing fine or at least he thought so. Even his henchmen had wide eyes staring at each and every one of them. Anyone from the outside would have thought this was the plot for a soap opera. In fact, he probably watched one similar to it when he was in Arkham.
When Isabella denied being pregnant, Oswald took a deep breath, gripping his cane and trying not to come off too relieved. When she explained her reasoning for her refusal, Oswald tilted his head slightly to the side, his gaze meeting the one of the sea witch.
"I see." He licked the top of his teeth, blowing some air into his cheek and then releasing it with an audible pop. "HAHA! Of course! Where's my mind? Once a murderer always a murderer my mum used to say!"
He stood up and limped towards the kitchen, away from his friend and the one that shall not be named. He pulled out a sealed bag of red solo cups from when he first moved in case he needed them and then waddled back into the living area, tossing the bag onto the stone coffee table. "It's sealed. I don't want you choking on a delicious meal because of me." Oh the irony in his words.
And with that, the cook announced that the food was ready to which Oswald replied "Bring it out then. I'll sample from each dish. Thank you." He didn't look back to his guest and took his seat at the table hoping they'd at least join him. He did this for Edward. Anyone else and the little idiot would be dead.
Edward: At Isabella's words, he felt disappointed in her for a moment, though he also understood it, he didn't like the way it was so suddenly said. But that couldn't really be helped either. He frowned. She had snapped at Oswald and glared at Ed for being insecure enough to believe she might have been with other people.
He wasn't keeping an obsessive eye on her. He knew who she hung around with, purely out of curiosity. There was that man who bought her new flat for her and who knows if she had other suiters at the bars she went to with Harley. He didn't know and he didn't want to judge. It was just – he couldn't possibly know if she was pregnant or not.
Of course she didn't look it but women didn't usually show physical signs or a baby bump until at least 12 - 16 weeks. He was glad, though. Relieved that she wasn't. He wouldn't know how to further their relationship if there was a baby involved, selfishly. Oswald's response to it, he was grateful for. He kept his cool and even came up with a solution for Isabella. Maybe some wine would make her feel better, more relaxed. His frown left his face as Oswald said he would taste all of it.
"Thank you, Oswald." He told his friend. Hoping Isabella would be alright with that. He cared about Isabella, liked her a lot more then he could say. And he was glad he wouldn't have to worry about her, or Oswald during the dinner. They would hopefully be keeping civil.
Isabella: For a moment, Isabella thought she was going to have to pull out Joker's knife. She didn't move a muscle, and maintained eye contact with Oswald. Rage coursed through her as he got up and limped out of the room. She looked at the cups suspiciously. This could have been a back-up plan, in case she refused to drink from his glasses.
But even as she thought that, she felt the fight go out of her. She couldn't out-think Oswald at every turn. She couldn't second guess his every plan. If he had done something to one of the cups before sealing them in the bags, she had no way of knowing. And he was going to eat the food before letting her eat it, just as she herself had done for Edward, when she'd nursed him back to health.
She was still furious that he'd asked her if she was pregnant, that he had put her in such a surreal and humiliating situation, and that he hadn't even acknowledged the fact that he had murdered her in the first place. But she didn't know what else to say about it. It was what it was.
"Fine," she said, bluntly. She saw Edward’s disappointed expression out the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t bring herself to care. Let him be disappointed in her. He couldn’t honestly expect her to go the entire evening without mentioning it.
Edward's thanks was pointless and ridiculous. Oswald hadn't done anything to warrant thanks, in her opinion. But she was tired. Her back hurt from sitting so tensely, and her fingers ached from gripping her bag, and her chest hurt from the quiet fear she'd been carrying with her. Edward wanted her to be polite, to forget what had happened.
So, with a quiet sigh, she stood up and followed them out of the room, still holding the clutch bag with Joker's knife in it. At least it genuinely seemed like Oswald wouldn't try to kill her tonight.
