Date Night | Chatzy
Summary: Isabella and Ed go on a date to an art gallery. Things don't go according to plan Trigger warnings: Slightly implied emotional abuse, murder, violence Written by: @kristencoded and @riddlesreformed
Eddie: "Et voilà! La reine entra dans son château." He said, opening the door for her. There was a shit-eating grin on Nygma's face, a proud look that never seemed to leave him when he was up to no good. He decided he needed to show Isabella one of the best things about his life as a criminal, but when she took too long to enter.
The man rolled his eyes dramatically and let out a sigh. "My dear, you saw me shut off the security systems. The cameras won't pick anything up. It's playing footage from last week. You have nothing to worry about. Walk into the art gallery." He said with a gesture towards the art gallery. When he was teaching Sabrina, she was excited to go into places after he shut off the security. She said it had been like 'visiting the museum at night'. And liked when her father took home a souvenir for her. He couldn't imagine the allure of an empty art gallery not appealing to someone like Isabella Flynn.
Isabella: Isabella had agreed to go with Ed tonight, without a moment's hesitation. She was thrilled to be a part of this side of his life, and flattered that he wanted to take her out. But breaking and entering hypothetically was quite different to actually doing it.
"Merci, mon amour," she said, politely, but didn't walk in. She knew that Eddie had made sure they wouldn't get caught – she had seen him take precautions – but she couldn't fight the innate feeling that she was doing something wrong. You're being ridiculous, she told herself. You know he's a criminal. This is your life now. And wasn't it thrilling? Wasn't it flattering?
Apparently, Ed noticed her hesitation, because he told her to enter, and she nodded quickly. "Yes, yes. I'm sorry, darling," she said, and she crossed the threshold immediately.
And now, once she was inside, she could appreciate what he'd done for her. He'd disabled the security systems, and taken her at night, so that they could have the whole place to themselves. They were completely alone, free to admire the art without the irritating crowds of people around them, and they could stay for as long as they wanted. It was the most romantic thing anyone had done for her.
"Oh, Edward," she whispered, looking around at the completely empty gallery. "It's wonderful!" Elated by her own law-breaking, overcome with adoration for him, she took his hands and laughed. "Thank you for bringing me, my love."
Eddie: Ed walked in after she did and was delighted at her reaction. Excitement seemed to fill her instantly once she had a look at the place. He moved closer and wrapped his hands around her waist to stop her from moving too much, making too much noise. There was still a guard that could return at any time. (Which was why he brought the gun).
As though this was nothing but a date, he pressed a kiss softly on her head. He was determined to have her in his new life. She had this way of brightening up his days, and if she wasn't there by his side – things would be a little gloomier. Isabella was important to Ed, so she was also an asset to Riddler. He just had to modify her a little. Make her fond of the things he was fond of, get her to be less afraid of it. Which was why Riddler was treating this like a date. This had to be positive for Isabella or it would be a bust for Edward.
After a moment he let go of her and started walking around her to an art piece. Examining it, then turning to Isabella and gesturing to her to come over with him. "If I recall correctly," He always did. He had a photographic memory. "You said you liked this one on our last visit here." He didn't know what she would pick, she liked a lot of pieces in the gallery. He hadn't even told her yet that he was going to take one for her. He didn't want to put pressure on her to pick one. He was going to choose the one she seemed the most enthused about and pluck it off the wall when the time came.
Isabella: They were safe, here. Ed was armed, and he'd disabled the security of the gallery, so nobody even knew they were here. Isabella felt giddy with freedom, but she didn't want to act recklessly. She had to prove to Eddie that she was an asset, that she wouldn't slip up and get them caught. She looked into his eyes when he pulled her close, and smiled brightly. He had finally let her in, he'd finally given her the chance to see this world, and she loved him for that. Her initial hesitation was drowned out by how much she adored him, in that moment. She had vowed that she wouldn't hesitate anymore. She had to show him she was okay with this.
As he walked over to the paintings, she was content to just stand and watch him, to drink in the fact that they were alone here, that this was magical and special. But he gestured for her to join him, so she walked to his side and took his hand and leaned against him, without asking for permission. She rested her head on his shoulder, and looked at the painting. It had been the first one she'd fallen in love with, when they'd come here during the day, but then she'd seen the others. They were all stunning. The art gallery was one of her favourite places in Star City.
"You do remember correctly," she replied, smiling. Of course he did. "It's beautiful. You know that I love impressionist art." She raised a hand and gestured to the wild brush strokes, feeling the sudden blasphemous urge to touch it. But she didn't dare. They were here to admire the artwork, not go too far. "It might be my favourite style. Oh, but –"
She tore her gaze away from the painting, and pulled Ed with her gently, wandering over to a landscape painting of the horizon of Star City. "Realism is stunning as well. It's less... adventurous, and I know it seems dull, but the attention to detail is breath-taking." She laughed a little, and shook her head. "I'm sorry. Listen to me, blathering on. I'm sure we had this conversation when we were here during opening hours. But everything is so much more stunning, isn't it? Now that we're the only ones here."
Eddie: He didn't pull away when she took his hand, didn't move when Isabella leaned on him. But he had to remind himself that this was more of a date than a heist. He wanted her to be happy and romantic and he couldn't ruin it by pushing her away. The romance was sweet, and he could only imagine allowing Isabella to pull him around and demand things of him – like hand holding. His fingers intertwined with hers. He had always loved art. He liked the colours and the emotions put into the first piece.
Then she pulled him over to the skyline picture and he gazed over it, listening to her talk about how much she loved it. He loved realism, himself. But he more so enjoyed portraits. If an artist could capture the liveliness of a human – that was incredible. In that moment, he wanted a portrait done of himself and Isabella. Something to hang on their wall. Maybe in the living room, or in his office. He let himself think about it despite knowing that he would have to leave his home soon. He would have to leave Isabella, too. He had plans for her, and she needed to stay behind for them.
He glanced from the painting to her, and watched her instead. The wild excitement in her eyes, that bright smile on her face. He felt this... sharp, sudden sadness that Isabella would have to stay behind. That he couldn't just take her away with him to his hideout. His smile dropped a little, but then she turned to face him and he forced it back on his face. "No, dear. I enjoy listening to you talk. Please, feel free to. I took you here to listen to you blather on. You could never bore me, remember?"
Isabella: Edward was uncharacteristically quiet for a moment, and Isabella glanced at him. Had she said something wrong? She could feel herself getting caught up in the excitement and romance of it all. Maybe she shouldn't have pulled him after her? But he didn't seem irritated. Just thoughtful.
He smiled again, and she felt relieved. This was a date. This wasn't a test. She didn't need to worry. Ed had done all this for her, to make her happy, and here she was second guessing him? What was wrong with her? He clearly just wanted to impress her. She pushed away her worry, and the guilt that came with it.
"Thank you, Eddie," she said, quietly. She had already thanked him, but she felt like she had to do it again. "For taking me here. For showing me how... exciting this all is." She let go of his hand, and leaned on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, just content to stand there with him. She felt the sudden urge to hold him closer, though she didn't know why.
He loved her. Even now everything was different and frightening and new. He was willing to guide her into his criminal life, to be patient with her, and take her out, and listen to her ramble.
Isabella closed her eyes, and breathed out slowly. The manic excitement was still there, bubbling beneath the surface, and she wanted to spin around and drag Ed with her around the museum, and rant about the art, and get lost in how beautiful this place was without anyone else there. But, for a moment, she wanted to just be still, and worship him.
"I love you," she whispered, and it hurt to say. It made her heart ache. "I love that you thought of every precaution, so we could come here and do this. I love that you're so patient with me. That you let me into your other life. That you enjoy listening to me talk."
She knew she was rambling again. Maybe it was because she thought he'd seemed sad, for a moment, and that worried her. Or maybe it was because she loved him so much and she just had to tell him. "I know that I was... sceptical. At first. When I heard about what you'd done to that woman." She couldn't say anything more about that. She didn't want to ruin the moment. "But I understand now. Sacrifices have to be made. And this? Coming here at night? It's magical."
At last, she opened her eyes, and leaned her chin on his chest so that she could look up at him. "I adore you, Riddler," she said, quietly, and smiled. It was the first time she'd used that name out loud, the first time she'd acknowledged it, and she did it for him. Because she loved every part of him, and he had to know that.
Eddie: She was thanking him again, happy to be involved in his crimes. It was almost like he didn't need to convince her. She would follow him anywhere and for the millionth time, his mind wondered to her "programming". She shouldn't have told him that – he would be enjoying this so much more if he knew it was all real. He loved her, but since he started dating her and showing her the other side of him – it was like all of the morals she had were thrown out the window. Though maybe that was a good thing. It meant he wouldn't have to try hard to convince her to come with him... How did that make him unhappy? Dissatisfied?
He didn't want to leave her behind, and he didn't want to break things off but he wanted to tell her that she was being an idiot – blindly following him. Not asking important questions. Just going along with his – honestly correct and perfect – ideals, like she had none of her own anymore. She used to hate him and now he could hardly remember what that was like. Testing her had been fun. God, what was wrong with him. Couldn't he just be content in his life for two seconds?
"Of course I enjoy listening to you talk. I'd like you to do it more. You understand, anything you say Isabella. You are free to do so." The Riddler in him never worked overly well with others. He had an amazing amount of ideas and everyone else's seemed dull to him in comparison. It was probably true what everyone said about him – that he loved himself. But he loved Isabella too. He just wished he saw a little more of her. It was becoming dull somehow. Their twisted, sick relationship. She wasn't fighting him anymore and it was strange.
"I knew you'd like it!" He brightened up a little. "You've always been so fond of art. Even back then. My love, whichever piece you like the most. We'll take it. I don't mind robbing the whole place if that's what you wanted!" He said with a brighter grin. Now that he was thinking about taking whatever he wanted from the place.
Then she called him Riddler, and he couldn't believe his ears for a moment. "What?" He asked, before shaking his head. "Uh – right. Yes. My dear. I – I adore you too." He said stuttering a little. Then he cleared his throat, let go of her hand and walked away from her lifting his hands. "Come then! Hurry up, we don't have all night. If you can't pick something, I'll have to pick something for you! You have 60 seconds to decide!"
Isabella: Isabella wanted to just stay with him for a little longer, to drink in the fact that they were alone, and he'd done all of this for her. This was the Edward she'd thought she was dating, when she was Kristen. He'd been sweet to her, and he'd made her dinner, and kissed her hand like she was a princess, and her life, for a short while, was like a movie. And wasn't it like that again? Alone in the art gallery, listening to his heartbeat, leaning on him. It was like a dream. He'd done this for her. He'd taken her with him. And she was so grateful.
But then Ed spoke again, and she pulled away and blinked. "I... I'm sorry? We'll take it?" She stared at him. And it was as if the spell was broken. He'd taken her here to steal the artwork? She felt so stupid. Of course he had. He was a criminal.
But Isabella hadn't even considered the idea that they would be stealing. Some of the paintings hanging on these walls were priceless, irreplaceable. Where on earth would Ed put them? What if they got damaged? She hadn't even been able to touch the impressionist painting. She'd felt the aura of beauty and value radiating from it. And he wanted them to take something home with them?
He moved away from her, and she felt horribly alone. She folded her arms across her stomach, and saw the excitement return to Ed's smile. She had 60 seconds. And she realised. This was the test. How could she have been so thoughtless? So idiotic? If she didn't pick something, he would pick for her, but that wasn't the point. If she didn't pick something, she would fail. She would show him that she wasn't okay with thievery. And wasn't he trying to be romantic? He was letting her decide her favourite piece. Anything she wanted. He had taken her here on a date, to make her happy.
And she was part of this world now. Was she going to disagree just because she drew the line at taking the artwork? Why was this any worse than hacking, or breaking and entering, or murder? She realised that she'd been quiet for a while, and hoped that she hadn't used up all her time. Didn't you say you weren't going to hesitate when he asked you a question? she thought, disgusted at herself. What if she used up all of the minute? What if he was disappointed in her? After all the lengths he'd gone to get them there on this wonderful, romantic, evening, and she was going to ruin it by calling him out?
"Oh my. You've put me on the spot, Eddie," she said, forcing a laugh. It sounded terribly strained. For one insane, incongruous, moment, Isabella thought she hated him for doing this to her. But it lasted for a split second, and she returned to herself.
Immediately, she turned to the first portrait Edward had pointed out, the one she adored. The one she hadn't been able to touch before. And she walked over to it, and raised her hand, and placed it on the frame, running her fingertips over it. She breathed shallowly. "This one," she said, looking up at it. "I want this one."
Eddie: "Yes. We'll take it. Didn't you hear me?" He raised his voice a little at her, not really meaning to. But all of this – it was beginning to hurt his head a little. He didn't know what he wanted, but he did feel more comfortable testing her than he did indulging her. She was taking a little too long, but he could tell she was mostly just bewildered. She wasn't going to fight him on this.
He waited, about thirty seconds or so before his lady actually did something. Moving to the painting and choosing the first one she fell in love with. The one with the bright colours and wild strokes, leaving the boring, normal one behind. It felt like a metaphor.
A few seconds passed, and Ed didn't really say anything. Assessing her choice like it actually meant something. Then he turned his head at the sound of another voice just down the hall. "Grab it, darling," he told Isabella. "I'll go take care of our little friend. He deserves it for ruining our date," je said, taking his gun out. He then started walking down the hall and disappearing from her sight.
"Hello," Ed greeted the guard. The man had a gun, pointed towards the Riddler who was actually beginning to smile a little at the sight of a little danger. The guard spoke, meaningless words.
"Hold it," he said.
"I am holding it – my gun that is." Ed joked. "Answer me this. In a tunnel of darkness lies a beast of iron. It can only attack when pulled back. What is it?" He said before cocking his gun.
"What?"
"Answer the riddle," Edward demanded, his voice once again raising and the man in front of him looked more dazed and confused than ever. "Were you even listening to me?! IN A TUNNEL OF– Oh, forget it." He said before aiming and shooting the man in the hand. A sharp yell sounded from the guard as he dropped his gun on the floor. "IT'S A BULLET. You IMBECILE!" Ed told him. "Here! I'll make it easier on you. Answer this one and I won't kill you. I live in the – "
Before he could finish the riddle, the man unexpectedly charged at him. Ed let out a few shots, hitting a painting and a bust which shattered on the ground. The guard pushed Ed back, and he stumbled and fell onto the floor. Causing Ed to drop his handgun in the process. The other reaching down and grabbing his shirt before giving Ed a punch in the face with his uninjured fist.
The scuffle went on, and loudly as the two obviously fought in the other room. Thuds and yells could he heard from a mile away, probably.
Isabella: Ed raising his voice slightly only made Isabella feel more stupid. Of course she'd heard him. Why hadn't she seen this coming? Did she think they were going to stop at breaking and entering? Ed wanted her to have something nice. Just like Tom used to. It was flattering.
She stood in front of the painting in silence, and didn't let herself take her hand away from it. Every second she was touching it made her skin tingle, like she was doing something sinful. But isn't it exciting? She forced herself to move her hand from the frame, and brushed her fingertips across the rough paintwork, feeling the beautiful wild brushstrokes beneath her skin.
And then, suddenly, she heard a voice, and it broke her out of her thoughts. It must have been the security guard. She turned to Edward as he pulled out his gun. He was going to shoot the guard. He was going to kill him. She had to take the painting down.
She turned back to it. It was stunning. Anyone else would have struggled to take it off the wall – it was tall, and probably heavy, but Isabella lifted it from its hook with absolutely no issue. She wasn't breathing. She gripped it tightly, and just held it for a few moments, looking at it.
A gunshot echoed throughout the gallery, and she looked up sharply. Was that it? Had Ed killed him? She stood perfectly still, waiting for him to return. But he didn't.
A few more shots rang out, and Isabella bent down and leaned the painting against the wall. Someone yelled, and it was impossible to tell if it was the guard, or Edward. Had he been disarmed? He was clearly in a hand-to-hand fight. She couldn't just stand there and wait for him to come back. He was in danger.
Briskly, she walked across the room and into the hall. There was too much to take in with one glance. Edward was on the floor, and trying to fight back, but the guard was bigger and clearly a better fighter. There were bullet-holes in a painting, and a broken bust on the ground. There was blood on the floor, and Isabella couldn't tell if it was Edward's or the guard's. She reached into her pocket, and felt the handle of the knife that Edward had made for her. She withdrew it, and pulled the cap off, and let it fall onto the floor.
The guard had hit Edward. He had injured him. Isabella wasn't even thinking.
She walked quickly over to him, and grabbed his shoulder. He yelled, but she didn't make a sound. She simply pinned him to the ground and straddled his waist, holding his arms by his sides with her knees. She could hear her heartbeat slamming in her ears, her blood rushing through her body, and she could feel the man struggling beneath her, but she was so much stronger than he was. So much more.
She lowered the blade to his throat, and drew it across his skin. He had to drown. He had to drown in his own blood. She pressed her hand against this forehead, so that his head was still. So that he would choke on it. Blood erupted out of his open throat, and sprayed into her face as she dragged the knife across his neck, and it splattered onto her nice new coat. Isabella pressed her lips together. She dropped the knife beside her and held his head stationary. He was making horrific sounds. Choking sounds, gargling, gasping, sounds. There was a buzzing noise inside her head.
He convulsed beneath her, and Isabella waited. She looked into his eyes. It wouldn't be long now. There was nothing else. Nothing in the world. Except this man, who had hurt Edward, who had dared to hit him, who had ruined their evening.
When, at last, he went still, she blinked, and stood up. The blood from his throat was sticky and warm on her face, and she looked down at the stains on her coat and sighed in irritation. "Oh dear," she said, mildly. "This probably won't wash out."
Eddie: The fight was quick, he was taking punches – but he was also throwing them back, persevering! He didn't feel he was in an overwhelming amount of danger. He had fought bigger and more terrifying men then this one guard. Though, he fought like he had a background in wrestling or something. Eddie struggled underneath him, while he attempted to reach the gun. He was under a small amount of pressure now as he was having more difficulty. The guy had just grabbed his neck. Attempting to choke him. One of Ed's hands grabbed the man's wrist as an attempt to pry him off his neck.
It wasn't long after that when Isabella came to his rescue. Right as Ed's fingertips grazed the handle of his gun of course. He easily threw him off Edward and he gasped and coughed for air. A small bit of weakness he did not want to show in front of Isabella. It was one man. Ed could have handled him if she had only given him the time. It was a spot of bad luck. That was all.
As he sat up watching Isabella, he expected her to just knock the man out. Instead, he watched in shock as the woman he loved whipped out the knife he designed for her. One that as first glance looked like a pen, and sliced his throat open. He let out a over dramatic gasp, but Isabella wasn't letting up on the guard. Holding his head down and forcing him to choke on his own blood. It would be sickening to anyone else but to Ed it was incredibly interesting.
Isabella just a couple weeks ago was horrified at Edward's murder a month or two ago. Now the tables have turned and she was doing the exact same thing he described to her. Only it wasn't quick for this man. He was drowning in his own blood. She was forcibly holding him like that because she knew it would be significantly worse for the guy. Ed couldn't help but just watch as the scene went down. His eyes never tearing from it. Not much shocked him. Isabella in this moment, did.
It took a while before the man was dead and his girlfriend got off him. Making a comment about how blood wouldn't wash out. He knew a few methods he could try when they got home but Ed was too speechless to correct her. He cleared his throat, only a little sore from the fight. "Isabella..." Blood was speckled on her skin and it was incredibly beautiful on her. Was that odd? She looked as though she belonged in the art gallery herself, as a piece.
Isabella: Edward saying her name quietly reminded Isabella that he'd been injured, and she blinked and walked over to him. "Are you okay, Eddie?" she asked softly, running her gaze up and down his body, checking for wounds. "He didn't hurt you too badly, did he? Are you concussed?" He didn't seem too injured, but she knew from experience that he often hid pain well. She raised her hand and gently touched his forearm, and looked into his eyes, checking for signs of wooziness. All of her attention was focused on him.
Now that the threat had passed, she felt oddly disconnected, and distant. As if she wasn’t quite present. The blood on her face was revolting, but she didn't have any tissues to wipe it away. She felt it cling to her skin, and could only imagine what Edward thought of her. The moment she could, she would wash her face, and clean it away. It was warm and sticky, and she was disgusted by it.
Ed looked completely stunned. She smiled at him, a little embarrassed. He was gazing at her with awe, and she had no idea how to react. It gave her butterflies, and she wanted to kiss him, to tell him she was glad he was okay, to recapture that magical feeling from before. But she knew that now wasn't the time.
At least he wasn't badly hurt. Thankfully, she'd been able to step in before he was seriously injured, and he'd only taken a few punches. But that had been more than enough. The guard had needed to die for what he'd done.
She let go of his arm, and turned around to face the corpse. It was easier to focus on what needed to be done, rather than dither under his gaze. There was blood dripping slowly from the guard's open neck, and it had sprayed onto the walls where she'd slit his throat. His eyes were still open. It was careless of her to leave such a scene for Ed to deal with, but she had reacted in the spur of the moment. She'd wanted the man to suffer, to die slowly and painfully. It was surprising how easy it had been. And it would get easier with practice.
Isabella walked over to where she'd dropped her knife, and picked it up. It was covered it blood, and it stained her fingers bright red. She tutted to herself. "I should have been more careful," she murmured. "I made a terrible mess. I'm sorry, my love. It's not very romantic, is it?" She laughed lightly, and glanced back to Ed. He had been attacked, and she'd avenged him. She felt oddly proud of herself. It was just as Eddie had said. The man deserved it for ruining their date.
Eddie: His eyebrows furrowed as she examined him. Isabella didn't seem like she cared at all about what she had just done. But it happened fast. Perhaps she was in shock. Yes, that had to be it. It was a crime of passion that ended in her being in terrible shock. He hadn't even been focused on himself, busy analyzing her. His voice sounded slightly strained as he spoke back to her, shaking his head. "No, not concussed. I didn't sustain any injuries that won't be healed within the week. He didn't actually hurt me too bad..." He told her.
Ed's eyes went back to the body, the blood that pooled around it. It would be a lot too clean. Too much by morning. He was wearing gloves but she wasn't. He let out a soft hum as he tried to figure out how he was going to fix this. "You're right. This was an awfully big mess you've made..." He whispered. "Don't fret, dear. I'll handle it, I need you to get in the car. I have an extra pair of clothes. They're my work clothes, but you can probably fit them if you tighten the belt a lot or ditch the pants all together. We'll load the painting into the car and I will take it to my hideout tomorrow. You will be going home tonight before me. I'll handle this on my own." He decided.
It wasn't that he was kicking her out of the process, it was just a lot of work. She would find it incredibly boring anyway. Plus, she was likely shocked, she needed to rest. "You're in shock, probably. This is... your first kill. I – I didn't intend for that to happen. Just, go home. I'll handle it..."
Isabella: Hearing that Ed wasn't too injured was a relief, and Isabella breathed out slowly. "Good," she said, quietly. He was obviously shocked by what she'd done, and Isabella didn't know how to reassure him that she was fine, that this was completely fine. He had been in danger. She had protected him. The threat had been dealt with. Ed looked completely floored, and she felt a stab of guilt for throwing him so off balance. But it was very endearing to see him so surprised. It wasn’t something she saw often, and she was enjoying it quite a lot.
There was something reassuringly familiar about him reeling off instructions, and she nodded silently as he spoke, taking it all in. He looked shell-shocked. "Of course, my love," she said. "I'm sorry I've made so much work for you. I wasn't thinking. This is going to take hours to clean up." Her gaze moved from Ed to the blood, and then the corpse, which, she supposed, would have to be broken down and buried. He would have to find somewhere to dispose of it, which was a job in itself, but simply cleaning the gallery would take a while.
She hated having to leave him there, especially after such a brief date. She'd wanted to explore the gallery with him, and take advantage of the fact that they were alone. But it had been cut short. Isabella glared at the bloodstain on the floor, and mentally scolded herself. It had been selfish of her to be sadistic. If she'd just stabbed him quickly, and not made such a mess, then Ed wouldn't have had to work through the night to clean up after her. It was sweet of him to tell her not to fret, but she couldn't help but feel bad for causing so much bother.
Then he said that she was in shock, and she couldn't leave letting him think that. He would spend the whole time worrying about her. He stammered as he spoke, and she could see that this had upset him so much more than it had upset her. He was her endearing, adorable, Ed again, with none of the Riddler's bravado, and all she wanted to do was hold him. The Riddler was incredibly attractive, and made her weak at the knees, but Ed, nervous and concerned and thoughtful, made her melt.
Isabella slipped her knife into her pocket and crossed the room, taking his hands, smearing the guard's blood onto his fingers. "Eddie," she said, seriously. "Darling. I'll go home. I’ll do as you ask. But please don't worry about me. I know you didn't intend for this to happen. It was an accident." The thought that he'd somehow planned this hadn't even crossed her mind. Ed hadn't wanted her to become a murderer.
She blinked, and looked at him imploringly. "I'll take the painting with me, while you start cleaning up in here. But I promise I'm not in shock, my love. I'm perfectly fine." Because she couldn’t leave without kissing him, she leaned forwards and pressed her lips against his softly, only for a moment, before pulling away. "I love you," she whispered. "I did it for you."
Eddie: Ed pulled herself to his feet, his eyes travelling from the body again back to her. She was so calm, moving towards him. Taking his hands and talking to him like he was the one who was in shock. She was the one who just killed someone for the first time and she was comforting him. He stammered again, it was hard to get a hold of himself after witnessing his girlfriend kill someone so violently for him. She didn't need to do that. It was almost like she wanted to.
I'm perfectly fine. She said and he wanted to argue with her. She couldn't be fine because she was Isabella. The intelligent woman with morals and beliefs. Though, if she said she was fine... a part of him did think maybe she would be useful for this sort of thing when he just couldn't handle it.
"G-good. Yes... go home," he said. She leaned forward and kissed him, and Ed paused before giving her a kiss back. She pulled away and he gave her a puzzled look. He still couldn't believe she was fine. I did it for you. This paralleled his fight with Miss Kringle after he told her that he killed her abusive boyfriend. That he did it for her. Only now, Miss Kringle was killing people for him.
He sighed. "I... love you too. Goodnight," he said. They exchanged goodbyes and she left him alone to deal with the mess.
"Oh, dear... What have I done to you, Isabella?"
