[That seems an unusual request. But maybe he's worried it will clash with the decor? Or was it some metaphor about self reflection? Either way, he could cover it.]
Towel. Sure.
Oh! Right. Could you pick up another pillow or two? And the cases for them? I wasn't sure where to go for those. The bed's big enough to share, but there aren't enough pillows.
[Because of course, once he's latched onto someone, he's going to completely insert himself into their lives as much as possible.]
[ He hasn't timed how long it takes him to get to the merchant dome, shop and get home. What would make anyone think that >_>
And anyway, it doesn't take him an hour. It takes him an hour and ten minutes because there was a ghost (a hallucination, he's assuming, because ghosts aren't real no matter what anyone keeps saying about this ghost moon thing) in the lobby and it kind of freaked him out. A lot.
But here are keys in the door, said door opening and look. One Edward Nygma, ugly-sweater-vested and loaded down with so many pillows. ]
Ed is welcomed home by such a happy looking fluff nugget. Almost literally because Oswald has apparently decided to borrow one of Ed's sweaters and the size difference has him swallowed whole by the clothes.
"Edward! Hello!" He comes over to immediately try and take some pillows. "When you said an hour I thought I'd have time to drop my suit off fir cleaning and buy a change of clothes, but there was this thing and..."
He gave a self-deprecitating laugh:"I might have to wait to do any of that until after it goes away."
Ed lets him take some of those pillows. He...may have overdone it on pillow shopping. Just like he overdid it on puzzle shopping, as evidenced by half the things in his room.
"...thing." He looks puzzled, glances towards the door, then looks back at Oswald. Mildly alarmed. Okay, more than mildly. "That was real?" Wait, should that be alarming or relieving? He really isn't sure.
"They were the only other clothes in the aparment," he said matter of factly. The 'well,duh' thoroughly implied.
"And yes, it was real. Well, real enough." As he still thought of the whole thing as something inside his head, it was about as real as anything else. "I think we probably have enough food for a few days. But we might have to sneak past it at some point."
"It might go away." He looks a little anxious at the idea that it won't, however. "The saloon delivers. Food. They have food delivery." Does the saloon have food delivery, Ed? Is that what you're trying to say there?
"Oh good." Oswald laughed, nerves on clear display as he tucked the pillows under his arms and shuffled off to put them away. "That's good. I've spoken to someone who says they can see ghosts all the time. And whenever this is over, they can check to see if it's still there or not."
"That must be...disturbing." He has enough issues with his hallucinations and projections, seeing actual ghosts. Hell no. Thank you, no. "I can call someone and ask if they'll deliver clothes. The general store may." They won't be tailored, but at least they'll fit.
"That would be a good idea if I knew what sizing to go by. Most stores go with generic S,M, and L. And it just never seems to work out right," he answered with a shrug. Not discounting it, per se, but definitely not convinced it was worth the money to try. Sure, Ed's shirts swallowed him whole, but that was only because he was so much taller.
"Oh! Since you're back, do you want dinner? I made a small pot of pΓΆrkΓΆlt that should be finished by now. I didn't have any nokedli, but some bread and wine will do the trick."
He made his way to the stove and lifted a pot lid, releasing the smell of a slow-cooked simple shepard's stew of meat, tomatoes, and... onions. HE TRIED, ED A somewhat traditional Hungarian meal that was easy to make and matched his own level of cooking.
"It's nothing like my mother makes, but I didn't get her talent for cooking."
Yes, truly Ed is a giant of Slenderman proportions. "Fair enough." At least there's a laundry room in the basement, so Ed probably won't run out of clothes before they can get Oswald his own. Probably.
Ed has been really, really poor with his money-skills in New Dodge, okay?
"I'm sure it's fine." He won't even pick the onions out, even though he desperately wants to. He doubts it would go over well, and in any case he doesn't have a microscope or tweezers. "I can cook tomorrow. Breakfast. I mean."
If there's one skill Ed does have it's cooking. Hopefully the ice hasn't frozen that over as well.
"You can? Wonderful!" Oswald scooped out the stew into two bowls and gestured at the table with his elbows. "Sit! Sit! We can talk about the investors and what I plan on doing with the old brothel!"
Even if he hasn't fully accepted this as reality in truth, he does seem to be settling in very comfortably. Probably more comfortably than he would if he realized this was all real and not something he made up in his head. He's being a little too open about certain things right now. But hey, easier to keep track of!
Sit-sit he will do, pillows set aside to do just that. Without even thinking about it, he picks up one of the puzzle boxes on the table and immediately starts playing with it. "One of the town investors owns this building. One of them owns the casino. Jemma Simmons and Leonard Snart." Big emphasis on that t sound there. "Who are the others on the list?"
Puzzle box solved rather quickly, he sets it aside, waiting for the response to his question. And the food.
He's certainly not going to mention the idea that Oswald may or may not believe in the reality of this place yet. Yet.
"It was just three. Those were the first two names. A Harry Fenymen? I'm not sure I'm pronouncing that name right," he frowned, eyes glancing toward the puzzle box. He'd messed around with a couple of them out of curiosity and had no luck solving them in his idle attempts. And yet, there Ed was, solving one as if it were nothing.
"Have you had those for a while?" he asked, curious. "You have a lot of them."
"Doctor Feynman is married to someone on the town council, which could be advantageous for you assuming she's re-elected come April 1." Which is, apparently, when the election is. "I've heard Doctor Simmons used to be on the town council. And Leonard Snart owns the casino, which could make for an interesting partnership with the brothel." Well no one can say Ed hasn't been paying attention to what happens in this town.
He looks at the puzzle boxes, shrugging. "A week, maybe a little more. Occupational therapy. Among other things." And, he is annoyed to say, the only one that's currently working well in his estimation.
A week. Maybe if Oswald had a week to work on it, off and on, he'd be decent with them as well. Maybe. It might give him something to do while he figured out how to get past the thing in the lobby if the ghost-whisperer wasn't able to pull it away.
"Then Lenard Snart will be the first on my list," Oswald slapped his hand on the table, grinning brightly before he started to dig into the meal. It was pretty passable all things considered. Maybe a tad strong on the paprika, but not terribly so.
"Of all the things to not be up and running when it's legal, the brothel would not have been my first guess. And since we're-" he paused, refrained from adding 'apparently' though it was a struggle, "-on an alien world, I was thinking of looking into more exotic workers than the usual, human, fare. Though, I wonder, would the aliens consider us aliens and thus, the exotic fare?"
"I think he may also be from a world similar to ours. I've heard a few people mention 'Central City', so someone is. As I've been able to determine that 'Gotham' is not a city in every version of Earth, and neither are Central City or Metropolis." Isn't that strange? He thinks it's very strange.
He'll try some of this meal, and despite the onions he'll admit that it does taste very good. He'd still rather no onions. Ugh, onions. "Thank you for making this," he says before responding to the question. "It's possible. Probable, actually. Especially since most humans in this...colony do seem to be fairly...exotic?"
"Well, I meant in general," he said, though he did nod after a moment's thought, "You're right, however. Most of the human settlers I've seen are rather attractive. But to an alien, our measure of such things might not even matter. They may find what we consider a disgusting disfiguration to be the pinnacle of beauty. And vice-versa."
He's wondering if there are any non-human alien fuckers out there that would like to fuck humans cause to them, the humans are the aliens. He's just trying not to put it in such terms. Which is rather difficult, actually.
"Before I open, I'm going to have to decide how to market this. I've never done that before. Prostitution was never my focus when working for Ms. Mooney. I have always dreamed of stepping into her shoes and taking over the nightclub."
And then going higher, but the nightclub was a good start.
Talk about conversations he's never had with the Oswald he knows back home. Prostitution and brothels is probably pretty high that list. "Well, I meant more the fact that some of the settlers have metahuman abilities." He's found that they like that phrase more than 'they're monsters'. Probably because there are actual werewolves in town. "But yes, that's true as well. They are...rather magazine-ready."
He thinks about this. "Perhaps there's someone in town who used to work at the brothel, when it was last open? If so, they may be able to tell you what they did for marketing."
"That would at least tell me what to avoid," he agreed. Since they shut down, any marketing they had done was probably the wrong sort.
"I want to make it a little more like the Foxglove, but less sex-club and more sex-for-pay with shows as well. On the burlesque side, I was thinking. Maybe. Something of a mix of a nightclub and brothel. Live music, rooms and talent for higher. High quality clientele screenings. I don't want general riff-raff to be able to frequent it. That just drags standards down."
"It's certainly a large enough building for that." He thinks about it. "Maybe you can do something with the fact that it's shaped like some sort of egg?" He has no idea why it's like that, but there must be someone in town who might. "And you have a point. Invitation only, isn't that how the Foxglove works? That seems...amicable isn't the right word." Frowning, a bit at his brain's sudden catch on a bit of mental rust. "...agreeable? Accommodating? Something."
Oswald made a guess at what Ed was trying to say, then moved on as if the hiccup hadn't happened at all, "I'm going to renovate and remodel it. Maybe have it repainted or re-faced as some sort of rock formation. The building space is fine, but I want as little to do with how it looked when it failed as possible."
At the guess, Ed looks relieved. And honestly thankful. That was probably going to bother him until he got frustrated about it, and now it won't. So enjoy that brief look of thanks, Oswald.
"A rock formation?" Oh, Edward. Don't say iceberg. Do not say iceberg.
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[ Yeah, he's going to need to see this to understand what the hell is going on. Maybe. Maybe it still won't make any sense. What the hell. ]
Could you...if you need a mirror, it's fine, but could you put a towel over it?
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Towel. Sure.
Oh! Right. Could you pick up another pillow or two? And the cases for them? I wasn't sure where to go for those. The bed's big enough to share, but there aren't enough pillows.
[Because of course, once he's latched onto someone, he's going to completely insert himself into their lives as much as possible.]
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Pillows and pillow cases. Roger dodger.
[ This aspect of Oswald, it seems, is really no different no matter what year or month or day it is. ]
Is that all you need?
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voice to ACTION
[ He hasn't timed how long it takes him to get to the merchant dome, shop and get home. What would make anyone think that >_>
And anyway, it doesn't take him an hour. It takes him an hour and ten minutes because there was a ghost (a hallucination, he's assuming, because ghosts aren't real no matter what anyone keeps saying about this ghost moon thing) in the lobby and it kind of freaked him out. A lot.
But here are keys in the door, said door opening and look. One Edward Nygma, ugly-sweater-vested and loaded down with so many pillows. ]
Re: voice to ACTION
"Edward! Hello!" He comes over to immediately try and take some pillows. "When you said an hour I thought I'd have time to drop my suit off fir cleaning and buy a change of clothes, but there was this thing and..."
He gave a self-deprecitating laugh:"I might have to wait to do any of that until after it goes away."
Which could be days.
Re: voice to ACTION
"...thing." He looks puzzled, glances towards the door, then looks back at Oswald. Mildly alarmed. Okay, more than mildly. "That was real?" Wait, should that be alarming or relieving? He really isn't sure.
And a beat: "...are you wearing my clothes?"
Re: voice to ACTION
"And yes, it was real. Well, real enough." As he still thought of the whole thing as something inside his head, it was about as real as anything else. "I think we probably have enough food for a few days. But we might have to sneak past it at some point."
Re: voice to ACTION
Re: voice to ACTION
Re: voice to ACTION
Re: voice to ACTION
"Oh! Since you're back, do you want dinner? I made a small pot of pΓΆrkΓΆlt that should be finished by now. I didn't have any nokedli, but some bread and wine will do the trick."
He made his way to the stove and lifted a pot lid, releasing the smell of a slow-cooked simple shepard's stew of meat, tomatoes, and... onions.
HE TRIED, EDA somewhat traditional Hungarian meal that was easy to make and matched his own level of cooking."It's nothing like my mother makes, but I didn't get her talent for cooking."
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Ed has been really, really poor with his money-skills in New Dodge, okay?
"I'm sure it's fine." He won't even pick the onions out, even though he desperately wants to. He doubts it would go over well, and in any case he doesn't have a microscope or tweezers. "I can cook tomorrow. Breakfast. I mean."
If there's one skill Ed does have it's cooking. Hopefully the ice hasn't frozen that over as well.
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Even if he hasn't fully accepted this as reality in truth, he does seem to be settling in very comfortably. Probably more comfortably than he would if he realized this was all real and not something he made up in his head. He's being a little too open about certain things right now. But hey, easier to keep track of!
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Puzzle box solved rather quickly, he sets it aside, waiting for the response to his question. And the food.
He's certainly not going to mention the idea that Oswald may or may not believe in the reality of this place yet. Yet.
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"Have you had those for a while?" he asked, curious. "You have a lot of them."
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He looks at the puzzle boxes, shrugging. "A week, maybe a little more. Occupational therapy. Among other things." And, he is annoyed to say, the only one that's currently working well in his estimation.
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"Then Lenard Snart will be the first on my list," Oswald slapped his hand on the table, grinning brightly before he started to dig into the meal. It was pretty passable all things considered. Maybe a tad strong on the paprika, but not terribly so.
"Of all the things to not be up and running when it's legal, the brothel would not have been my first guess. And since we're-" he paused, refrained from adding 'apparently' though it was a struggle, "-on an alien world, I was thinking of looking into more exotic workers than the usual, human, fare. Though, I wonder, would the aliens consider us aliens and thus, the exotic fare?"
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He'll try some of this meal, and despite the onions he'll admit that it does taste very good. He'd still rather no onions. Ugh, onions. "Thank you for making this," he says before responding to the question. "It's possible. Probable, actually. Especially since most humans in this...colony do seem to be fairly...exotic?"
Oh, he is so going to need to explain that.
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He's wondering if there are any non-human alien fuckers out there that would like to fuck humans cause to them, the humans are the aliens. He's just trying not to put it in such terms. Which is rather difficult, actually.
"Before I open, I'm going to have to decide how to market this. I've never done that before. Prostitution was never my focus when working for Ms. Mooney. I have always dreamed of stepping into her shoes and taking over the nightclub."
And then going higher, but the nightclub was a good start.
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He thinks about this. "Perhaps there's someone in town who used to work at the brothel, when it was last open? If so, they may be able to tell you what they did for marketing."
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"I want to make it a little more like the Foxglove, but less sex-club and more sex-for-pay with shows as well. On the burlesque side, I was thinking. Maybe. Something of a mix of a nightclub and brothel. Live music, rooms and talent for higher. High quality clientele screenings. I don't want general riff-raff to be able to frequent it. That just drags standards down."
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"It's certainly a large enough building for that." He thinks about it. "Maybe you can do something with the fact that it's shaped like some sort of egg?" He has no idea why it's like that, but there must be someone in town who might. "And you have a point. Invitation only, isn't that how the Foxglove works? That seems...amicable isn't the right word." Frowning, a bit at his brain's sudden catch on a bit of mental rust. "...agreeable? Accommodating? Something."
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Oswald made a guess at what Ed was trying to say, then moved on as if the hiccup hadn't happened at all, "I'm going to renovate and remodel it. Maybe have it repainted or re-faced as some sort of rock formation. The building space is fine, but I want as little to do with how it looked when it failed as possible."
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"A rock formation?" Oh, Edward. Don't say iceberg. Do not say iceberg.
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