Disgrace or an opportunity [Pamela/Edward]

[Edward Nygma]

Edward had not been the only one to have fallen from grace within high society. Edward considered Pamela Isley an acquaintance. He spoke with her briefly at a few engagements, and he knew of her parents’ research and wealth. He thought nothing more of her or her family even as glimpses of tragedy to the family littered the newspapers. It was not until his own disgrace that he even gave her a brief thought.

Edward felt painfully shun from his former social circles. Phone calls remained unreturned, invitations lost in the mail, and confrontation in person was quickly ignored with purposefully slamming a door in his face. It was humiliating, and Edward was finished with being humiliated by those less then him. He had followed the rules even though he had been granted nothing in his life. He had come from practically dirt, and he striven for his own success, only to have rules created by unintelligent buffoons strangle him back to the dirt. No more! No more laughter at his presence, degrading remark about his pathetic employment, or looks of pure pity. He would not live such a life, and those who had created this unfairness would be taught a lesson.

However, like all lesson plans, it takes time to thoroughly prepare. Edward had two hurdles before him: Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox. While neither met Edward’s own intelligence, they knew enough about the Wayne system to hinder his current plan. Instead of even having them on the board, he planned to remove them from the game before it even started, to which, Dr. Isley came into play.

For even her fall from society, she still managed to keep her fingertips within it, likely because those felt sorry for her circumstances. She had enough entanglement with the elite that she provided an important use to Edward, and even more so, he had heard of her dabbling in the black market, meaning she may have an interest in Edward’s proposal. He did not set up a meeting through darker channels to meet Poison Ivy; instead, he simply went to her estate. He did not consider himself rude, but he did not have the patience for the potential rejection of calendar invitations or scheduling conflicts. Therefore, he found her schedule and added his name to it, as if it had always belonged there. When the door opened to the estate, he provided a simple greeting to the help, but he did not allow the person an opportunity to warn Dr. Isley of his arrival. Rather, Edward went through the estate as if he knew it personally. He walked straight to the garden house where he knew Dr. Isley would be and spread his hands in the air as if in a dramatic greeting. “Dr. Isley, a pleasure. I am so pleased to have the opportunity to speak with you again,” he answered and moved forward to greet her with a kiss on a cheek.

[Pamela Isley]

While Edward had experienced a proper fall from grace, Pamela had merely stumbled. There were a couple of reasons for this, but primarily it was because of the exact nature of what was suspected of them. Embezzlement made one a thief and a cheat - and especially since it was suspected of someone with new money, that meant that his fame and fortune were obviously undeserved. Going crazy and spending some time in the asylum, on the other hand, was practically in vogue among young women of fame and fortune - if anything it just made her more interesting in the end.

Besides, unlike him, she still had her fortune - and one can hardly expect the wealthy elite to continue to count you among their number if you become poor. She still lived in the large, three-story mansion she inherited from her parents - a modern palace with white walls and large windows. Of course, she'd redecorated the place since the death of her parents, with so many plants that the mansion could be mistaken for a greenhouse in its own right. But really, they were just accent pieces in Pamela's mind - just a few here and there.

But though she cared for the plants herself, not trusting anyone to do it for her. But she did have a housekeeper to care for everything that wasn't alive in her home because that would be beneath her - a mature but timid woman of Hispanic descent who only provided a hesitant "...Sir? ...Sir?" when he barged in right past her. She didn't seem to have any idea what to do when her words failed to stop him, so she ended up following behind him like a distressed puppy as he walked with purpose, seeming to already know where to find the lady of the house.

Because Pamela was, indeed, in her greenhouse. A much newer construction than the rest of the structures on the grounds, it was much larger than some people's houses. And while the many potted plants in her actual home had made it feel like it was a greenhouse itself, this place instead had more of a feeling of being a piece of an actual rainforest - instead of carefully cultivated pots there were uncontained vines spreading everywhere and most of the space was absolutely choked with life. One might get the feeling that perhaps a tiger crouched among it, hidden somewhere. Or at least the woman following Edward seemed to think so - she immediately halted once they reached the doorway and made no move to enter, watching in distress behind him.

At one end of the greenhouse was her laboratory. She often lost track of time when she was in it, but she'd expected her housekeeper to notify her of anyone coming. Schedule or no schedule she knew that she wasn't due to leave the house until the evening so she'd ignored whatever it had said otherwise - other things would remind her when it was time to do something else. And she simply wasn't used to having guests actually at her house, for any reason.

Still, the expression on her face when he came through the door was mild at best - she didn't need her housekeeper to tell her that two human-sized creatures had been approaching. She was only surprised that one of them was Mr. Nashton. She remembered him, vaguely, because they'd been in the same circles for a time, but she hadn't seen him for nearly a year and that was plenty of time for her to nearly forget someone she'd never really cared about. For him to unexpectedly show up was strange, even somewhat threatening in a way. Still, that didn't exactly spook her - not in her greenhouse, least of all.

Her expression only betrayed surprise and curiosity when he approached, and she inclined her head to allow him to kiss her cheek when he moved to do so. However, at that same moment, her hand moved to firmly take hold of his shirt, keeping him there and not allowing him to either retreat or advance any further from her side. The brief invasion of personal space that he intended would have been only enough to give him the slightest dose of her pheromones, but only a few moments longer would be enough to drown him with her presence. They were indoors, after all, and she'd been in her lab for hours - it was a worst-case scenario for him.

A sweet scent, easily mistaken for perfume, would fill his senses and he would find himself suddenly drawn in by the presence of this unthinkably flawless woman. Not simply beautiful, not simply sexy, but also with eyes that saw into the soul and the glory of all nature in her every movement. He would both love her but fear that he could never have her - unless, of course, he resisted. But the strength of will required to do so hinged strongly on the question: Did he really want to?

Knowing full well what she was doing to him she smiled and said, "Mr. Nashton! It's been a while, hasn't it?" The hand not holding him in place reached up to tangle themselves in the hair on the back of his head - her lips only a half dozen inches from his face. One would think that she was greeting a lover and not an old and barely-remembered acquaintence. "Tell me, what brings you to my abode?" she asked, knowing that whatever answer he had prepared was probably not quite on his mind anymore.

In fact, he'd have a hard time saying anything but the full and honest truth, because such a perfect woman deserved the truth, even if she wouldn't like it, and she would see right through any lies anyway. But there would be no fear to tell her the truth in any event, because however she responded to it would, of course, be the perfect way to respond - if it made her angry then her wrath would be fully deserved and he could only fall upon her mercy.

Somewhere in the background, probably forgotten, the housekeeper could be heard saying, "I'm sorry, madam, he came right in..." Though her words were ignored for the moment.

[Edward Nygma]

Edward valued preparation, and took such measure in all aspects of his life. Clothes were laid out the night before, coffee on a timer, and workout routines for the day put on the counter. For business, thorough research was done about all potential business associates and assignments completed far earlier than the deadline. While his visit with Dr. Isley would not necessarily fall into the category of business, it required the same amount of thorough preparation. He learned of her interest and research. He learned the layout of her home, and the new addition of the green house. He learned of her black-market dealings in poisons and her parent’s suspicious death. He was prepared for this meeting to ensure that he achieved her needed support in his upcoming endeavor. At least he thought he had been prepared, but he could not have expected to know of her strange intoxicating presence.

He knew the way of socialite women, knowing that most would take his polite greeting to the cheek with a fake smile, and he suspected Dr. Isley to do the same. She did so, but then her grip caught him slightly off guard. His smirk faulted for a brief moment, judging the action for what could either be seen as a threat or desperation. He caught a scent that made him lose focus on her grip. His mind clouded in a way he did not enjoy, and his eyes glanced to the side of this woman’s flawless skin and neck. He took in a deep breath, as an almost animalistic desire to possesses her overcame him. His eyes met hers, and he felt captivated, almost forgetting why he had come at all. He did not remember her being so artistically stunning, and briefly wondered if he should take the opportunity to explore painting again to attempt to capture it. When she smiled, his own lips pulled into a full smile, pleased to have caused such an expression on her. He wanted to make certain she was happy. She deserved to have anything she wanted.

He became acutely aware of her fingers entangled within his hair and her sweet breath grazing across his own skin. He swallowed thickly, a slight concern that he might do something to upset her. The question wrapped around him like silk, and he leaned towards the words, knowing he could please her now. Questions were his bread and butter, and yet as the question twisted through the fog of his mind, he began to remember why he was here. He knew of this woman, but he had not found her so breathtakingly beautiful in the past. If he had, he certainly would have pursued her at an earlier date. Edward enjoyed woman for the riddle they could offer, though once solved, were fairly boring. Had he come to pursue this angel now? No, it was for a much more important task. He wanted to convince her to occupy Bruce Wayne’s time, but the thought of her spending time with another man disgusted him. This conflict forced his brows to furrowed slightly.

“I have a request,” he answered honestly, unable to fully provide his request because he did not want her to agree to it, and yet he did. A feeling of concern started to grow as he thought he may upset her, but the fog in his mind was suffocating and creating a headache. “I apologize. I do not want to offend you, my lady. I am,” he paused and pulled partially back to grip his temple and rub it, “Fascinating. Am I drugged?” He asked, almost breathlessly, trying to comprehend what was occurring. His mind thinking of Dr. Isley almost a year ago, and finding her rather timid and bland to the captivating woman currently before him. The logic of it all, tossing his own needs aside to please a woman he did not even know made no sense, and it frustrated him. He needed air.

[Pamela Isley]

Though Pamela would have scoffed at the comparison, she was not so different from the man in front of her in some ways. She too valued preparation - not out of some egotistical desire to appear perfect but out of the knowledge that in this world the strong survive and the weak perish. So if she failed to be strong then she would not survive, and to be strong one must grow and become equal to the challenges of the future. She was slower than he was to see the need to plan for every contingency, but she also learned from her mistakes and here at this moment had one big advantage over him: she had met Batman.

And Batman meant a lot of things. She'd thought that she was ready for him, but he'd shown her just how wrong she had been. She'd barely managed to keep him from obtaining actual proof of what she'd done but, in every other respect, she had lost and lost badly. But she'd learned from her mistakes, and was even now preparing to face him again. Yet he was not the one who came to her now, but this man - here she was preparing to face a bear and a wolf was here to test her. Not that she really knew who he was much more than his name and the sliver of recollection she had about why he wasn't welcome at the fancy parties anymore, but he was a man - and they're all dangerous beasts.

Yet she knew how to tame them, or at least she thought that she could. They were no threat to her if handled properly. She watched his reactions to her very carefully, wanting to be sure that his mind was properly bent to her will. And it seemed to be, at first, though she was quick to notice him starting to struggle. "Relax, darling, you're far too tense," she said, letting her fingertips trail through his hair and hoping that the part of his mind that was under her control would listen and cause the resistant parts to give up the fight. He must be a stubborn one, but she knew that she must have caught him off guard - nobody who knew anything about her pheromones would dare attempt to kiss her, even on the cheek.

Though that hint of stubbornness was already enough to cause her to consider whether or not she should kill him. Not a serious thought, at least not yet, but all men were potential threats and none more so than those who would resist her. In fact, what caused her to not be too hasty at this moment was more the practical considerations - if he disappeared right now, would she be implicated? How hard would her tracks be to cover? No, it would be better to keep this as a catch and release, if possible. This was an unexpected situation and if she truly wanted to get away with murder then she would need a better plan than she was likely to come up with on the fly. The need to keep her crimes a secret was almost not worth the trouble - it limited her so much.

"Now, why would a request from you offend me, darling? You only need to ask - at worst I will just say no," she responded to him sweetly, trying to keep him calm. She wasn't bothered much when he took a step back, because that was still well within reach. She wasn't a strong woman and her grip on his shirt wasn't hard enough to hold him in place if he actually tried to leave her side, but she knew that he would have to break the grip on his mind before he could do that.

But she moved the hand in his hair to instead caress his chin and encourage him to look her in the eyes, "It's a bit hot in here - that's all. Take deep breaths and you'll feel better." She did so herself as if to demonstrate, though her breath simply added to the pheromones already present and, of course, her advice would serve to strengthen what he'd already taken in. It wasn't a lie, though - it would make him feel a lot better.

[Edward Nygma]

Batman. Edward thought the notion of a man dressing up as a bat at night and fighting crime to be simply absurd. He knew some in Gotham were mentally unstable, and any person who spent their evenings in such a way fell into that category. He had no concern over the Batman. From his understanding, the so-called vigilante went after underground criminal organizations, and even though he planned to draw the attention of everyone in Gotham, he doubted a man dressed as a bat could do anything to stop him.

This woman, on the other hand, was unexpectedly problematic and useful. Her teasing fingertips lit a flame of desperation along each part of him she touched. The green jungle of the garden seemed to melt away into a beautiful halo, and if the sun had not been out before, it seemed to be now based on the way the light landed upon her subtle form. She looked as an angel of nature, and it seemed to only further confirm his theory of being drugged. Edward had admired many women, some outright, others tastefully, and none had appeared as perfect as the woman before him because no woman was perfect, at least not to him. The fact that a perfect woman stood before him, a woman he had seen before with little to no impression, meant something was a miss. He swallowed thickly, as his clouded mind grew distracted by the sound of her voice that wrapped around him like an elegant musical. He felt difficult to deny any of her request, and his body muscles relaxed on command, and he almost took a deep breath before he forced himself another step away from her.

He closed his eyes tightly and continued to rub his temple, forcing his mind to calculate the facts before him without the distracting and intoxicating image before him. His mind had been altered. Her full red lips. He was likely drugged. Her small cute waist and the curve of her hips. Stop it. Stop. He was drugged, but when would she have even had the opportunity. Would she allow him to at least taste her sweet skin or touch her lips? He growled, annoyed with himself, and then a flush of embarrassment came across his cheeks at realizing she must have heard the noise he made. His eyes snapped opened concerned he had upset her.

“I apologize. No,” he shook his head, “It is incredibly interesting. I am curious how you are doing this. It is the air? It must be. You have not given me water. Or is the drug on your skin? I knew you dabbled in poison, but I never considered,” he laughed to himself, “A love potion?” He then felt a pang of deep concerned that he may have upset her. “I need to speak with you, but I cannot think like this, my love. God, you are beautiful,” he ended up rambling the last part. His hand reached up to touch her before he quickly brought it back down to his side, “I want to do anything for you, but no.” It was either the air or her skin, either way, he needed to leave this room. He turned abruptly and headed out to find the nearest exit for fresh air.

[Pamela Isley]

Continuing to observe his reactions very closely, Pamela frowned to herself. She could see him still struggling, fighting against her words, and that greatly displeased her. So far only one man had managed to do so, and it deeply frustrated her to have found another. How was he managing to resist?

Unbeknownst to him, his words gave her the answer: he was overanalyzing the situation. Well, clearly she needed to adjust her pheromones then - perhaps she should reduce the overall haze to make it less obvious that anything was amiss, but slow down higher brain functioning more? And she could certainly increase how relaxed it made someone feel. She did note that she'd been quite close to ensnaring him, so that much was good.

As useful as his babble was, she didn't answer it - instead she saved her thoughts of her pheromones for later. She had a bigger problem: what to do with him now. Having observed him so closely, she wasn't surprised when he finally managed to pull away fully. She released her grip on his shirt instead of trying to fight him on it. "Lock the door, Nettle," she said calmly when she saw where he was headed. The timid housekeeper, still by the doorway, immediately complied - shutting the door and locking it with a key. It was an unusual doorknob, able to lock from either side. What kind of a person would want the ability to lock someone into a greenhouse? Pamela, of course.

Not that it would stop him from clearing up his head. In fact, the moment he stepped out of immediate proximity to her, he'd find his head beginning to clear. Not completely - when once granted a vision of her in her perfection that tended to linger with a man for a while, dominating his daydreams for days afterward, but especially because he'd more or less figured out what was happening to him he'd find that the compulsion to please her faded quite quickly.

And she knew that, which was why she found a resistant man so threatening. Still, she noted that he was no Batman - rather than responding with violence he responded first with fear. That was something, at least, but she didn't want to take any chances. So she stepped further into her lab and carefully selected a sealed, unmarked test tube with a clear liquid inside from among the many others - yes, this one would do nicely. As she did so, she said, "If you value your thoughts so much - fine, have them back. But if you think that you can just waltz in here like that, then leave when we obviously need to have a chat, then I'm inclined to object. That's no way to treat me, darling."

She turned back toward him but didn't make any further moves - she simply leaned against the lab table and watched him, idly playing with the vial she'd selected with her fingers.

[Edward Nygma]

He would remember this interaction for the next time he visited her and potentially seek an antidote or find an immunity prior to any future meeting. He did not like the idea of losing control of himself, and certainly not to a woman he barely knew. He managed to walk briskly across the room as the door shut before him, and a brief frown touched his lips as he heard the click of a lock. It provided further evidence that Edward had not properly prepared for this meeting. The only reason someone would lock a person into a room was if that person felt powerful in said room. While he noticed no visible weapons or threats, he recognized that plants could be quite poisonous. At least his mind had finally begun to clear and thoughts more logically melted through the fog. Occasionally, his thoughts would deviate to how beautiful the woman in this room was and how much a fool he was to attempt leave her. However, he was able to dismiss such thoughts as false.

He heard the tone in her voice, scolding, slightly disappointed, and it made him visibly cringed. A part of him fearful to cause her any disappointment. She had planted these thoughts in his mind, he reminded himself. He could not let them grow root, or they would only be harder to pull out later. He turned around to face her, looking slightly agitated himself to be caught in this unexpected situation. Seeing her once more caused an intense heat that made him swallow uncomfortably before he straightened himself out. “I was not attempting to offend you, my dear,” the pet name slipping from his lips. He often flirted with such names, but not to a doctor he hoped to have a professional relationship with, even if his body wanted something more.

He shook his head and smirked to himself, “I would not be so inclined to leave if you had not drugged me. Do you do so to all of your guest, or only the one’s unexpected? I did have an appointment, Dr. Isley.” He said that fact as if he had not put the appointment on her calendar. “However, I must admit, I am far more intrigued now, and I believe we can be of help to one another.”

As he spoke, and he had more time away from her form, he felt his wits return to him. It seemed whatever caused the intoxication was far stronger on her person, so he needed to stay distant from her to prevent its effect. “You are dabbling in the black market, yes? For that reason, I wanted to meet. I have been betrayed by many, and it seems you have felt similar betrayal by others,” he started, though he certainly was far more hesitant. His eyes glancing about for any other hidden tricks this woman had up her sleeves. He did have a few up his own should it unfortunately go in a worse direction.

[Pamela Isley]

Fortunately for the sake of any impending professionalism, Pamela is completely accustomed to being called all sorts of pet names and never takes them seriously - even when they're spoken without her prompting them. Such words are simply lures and traps spun by men who will take every advantage given to them to hurt and to destroy. Which is why she uses them all the time herself, and she never means them either.

"I never do business here," she stated, explaining why she knew to be so suspicious so quickly even in the absence of other clues. But then, of course, there were all the other clues... "And why, if I am to trust your intentions, should the fact that you came right in, ignoring all decorum, fill me with confidence that you're not trying to manipulate me right back? Especially when you've proven to overthink things to such a degree that I doubt you would do such a thing carelessly?" she asked, remaining calm but allowing him to see that she was ruffled. The art of manipulation was far from foreign to her, and she hated it when someone tried to use it against her. Not that it didn't ever work, but if someone succeeded that made it even worse.

At least this situation seemed to be stabilizing - if it was true that he was intrigued more than he was offended by her simply treating him the way he obviously deserved to be treated, perhaps she wouldn't have to kill him. Which she only minded because, again, there were logistics to consider. It did still bother her more than a little bit that he'd managed to resist her, though - that was simply unacceptable to her. A part of her didn't want to kill him as much as she wanted to capture him so that she could keep him on hand to use as a test subject for her pheromones - but that had nearly the same set of logistical problems as killing him.

Letting those be idle thoughts, for now, her lips pursed slightly as he mentioned her activity on the black market. Rather than answering that directly, she pointed out, "You seem to know an awful lot about me, darling, but I know very little about you." She had every reason to be suspicious, and him mentioning her criminal activities did little to encourage her to see him as anything but a threat. Still, she had the luxury of being able to be patient at this moment, and she could tell that he liked to talk, so why not let him continue to do so? Worst case scenario, she certainly hadn't shown him all her tricks yet. She continued idly playing with the vial.

[Edward Nygma]

Edward did enjoy to talk. He found that others did not add much value to a conversation and silence often agitated him in a similar manner that a book outside of alphabetical order would. It led to him sharing far more than he should, and yet, people still lacked the ability to comprehend his full plans. Now with distance, the clarity came faster. There was a lingering of the fog near the edge of his thoughts like a hangover, but he felt in far more control.

It did not take his genius intellect to deduce that the attractive woman was quite irritated by him, which was unfortunate and not how he hoped the meeting to move forward. Most women of society feigned politeness out the necessity to prevent any gossip, but this woman seemed to have no interest, simply calling him out on the situation he had created. He smirked, finding more humor in it than insult. If anything, he was angry with himself for concluding that the woman was simply a bored mentally depressed society woman searching for a little criminal activity to bring value to her simple life. It seemed Dr. Isley interest in her criminal endeavors were far more serious than he had even expected, and he should have known. “Why would I ever manipulate such an impressive woman?” he said with a smirk, “I apologize, which I do not enjoy doing. I squeezed myself into your schedule because I had a request that I did not want you to deny. Society women can be quite fickle, you see. However, I am learning rather abruptly that you are far more than just a society woman.” He admitted.

He straightened his tie and jacket, not liking anything to be out of place. Now that his mind had returned to him, his confidence in control returned. Yes, the drug was certainly on her person, so he would have to keep distance. “I am Edward Nygma, the Riddler,” he finally announced and in dramatic fashion, he bowed as if to a full audience, not that the name would have any value to her. Eventually, everyone would know his name, but not quite yet. “While that appears to have little to no value now, I promise you, come next Tuesday, it will be the most valuable piece of information you could have,” he smirked, “Now, Dr. Isley, since I rudely intruded, I will correct my action. May I have a moment of your time to discuss a simple idea for breakfast?”

[Pamela Isley]

Though Pamela could pretend to be polite just as well, if not better, than any other woman of high society, it was a skill that she saw little reason to employ at the moment. Gossip was never a huge concern when it came to private conversations between two people because anything they said she could just as easily claim to be a lie - and with this man in particular she figured she had more social clout to be believed in any he said/she said situation.

But even more importantly, her displeasure at how he'd managed to thwart her pheromones went beyond a simple dislike for having them fail her. She was a woman who enjoyed having control, and if he was not under her influence then she was outside of her control and she didn't like that. There was more than one way to establish enough control to satisfy her, so she was already switching to another method - though it gave her far less power over him than she would have liked, it was sufficient for her purposes if he at least knew that she wasn't to be trifled with, and that meant allowing him to at least somewhat see the side of herself that she normally kept hidden away.

When he began to apologize, her expression seemed indifferent to his words, and even just a hint annoyed by them, but that didn't mean that it didn't work - in fact, as he admitted that she was more than he thought she'd be she allowed herself to be calmed by them. She didn't believe a word of what he actually said, but she did recognize and appreciate the intention; he must have some level of respect for her because he was genuinely trying to soothe her irritation. People rarely do that to someone if they feel like it's safe to simply walk all over them. "I suppose I take it as a compliment that you thought I was who I pretend to be," she said, accepting the apology.

The name he gave to her wasn't immediately familiar to her, so she pursed her lips in thought at it. Though when he went on boast about how it would be important soon, they instead shifted into a slight smile. "Oh, I see... You're new..." she stated. Which wasn't intended to be insulting in the least - 'new' simply meant that it was yet to be determined how good he would be at accomplishing whatever scheme he had.

She assumed that he had some sort of scheme - it seemed like every new criminal of any real note had a scheme these days that went beyond the standard 'make money illegally' scheme, herself among them. And though she remembered the rumors that had circulated about what he may have done before, and she believed them to be true, that was standard white-collar crime and hardly counted - what he was speaking of here sounded like a different kind of endeavor entirely, if only because of the 'fancy' new name.

Some new criminals did well, but most did quite poorly. She would say that she herself got off on the wrong foot but was turning things around so she was doing better than most. As for the man before her? Well, she recognized that he had a brain, but that wasn't everything, so she supposed that she would find out whether or not his name had any real worth later - next Tuesday, apparently. "Welcome to Gotham's underbelly," she added, a hint of curiosity in her expression. Because the question now was why he was telling her such things?

The question he asked, though, caused her to coyly comment, "Breakfast? I don't think you're my type..." Now that the air had been cleared, she was in a much better mood - about as good as it could be with a still uninvited, uncontrolled man inside of her greenhouse, anyways. But at least she would leave it up in the air as to whether or not his presence was unwanted until he'd fully explained what he wanted.

[Edward Nygma]

Edward did not consider himself new. He had dabbled in what society considered criminal since his teenage years, but he supposed in regards to the notoriety Dr. Isley implied, he was new. Gotham City had strangely collected a more dramatic style of criminal in recent years, not the typical criminal organization ran families. Edward considered his own plan to have similar dramatics, and he did so purposefully. The city had already claimed him a criminal, so why deny the title? He would shine a light on every citizen of Gotham and make them realize no on one in this city of innocent. If anything, he was a prophet of truth. Not that he needed to share such thoughts with the woman across from him.

He nodded to the welcome, serving as her own confirmation that she too was part of Gotham’s underbelly as he had suspected all along. Normally, he would have been insulted by her next comment. He was every woman’s type except for the women who only had a preference for other women. He found most woman terribly predictable, which was why he often went through them fairly quickly. Even Dr. Isley likely had her own predictable patterns. No matter. He forced a smile to hide his annoyance. “Not with me, dear. I was hoping you may have time for Mr. Wayne, and after that little performance I have just experienced myself, I am certain you can fully captivate his attention for…oh say a few hours?” he asked, waving his hand in the air as if it were a mere suggestion. He often spoke with his hands.

[Pamela Isley]

If he knew what her type was, no doubt he wouldn't bother to be annoyed. The type of man that Pamela usually chose to associate with were those who she found to be both easy to manipulate and also useful. And while the latter was perhaps a positive (though not always because men who were wealthy and in a position to spend their money on things she wanted were useful), if he was the former then he would be under her spell even now.

Then again, the jury was still out on whether or not he was truly difficult to manipulate, though she didn't like what she saw so far. But she did, after all, have other methods for wrapping people around her little finger than drugging people with her pheromones. With Oswald, for example, it was so easy to genuinely delight the man with what she could do for him that she felt like he was putty in her hands. Not that she felt even the smallest of romantic attraction for him either but, then again, she wasn't actually interested in finding that anyway.

The moment he mentioned Bruce Wayne a slight look of disgust crossed her features. Obviously, she wasn't a fan. But with a pretentious wave of her hand, she replied, "Of course, darling, easily enough." He wasn't the only one who spoke with her hands, though at the moment she was somewhat hampered by the vial she was holding - it wasn't something to idly wave around, after all, though easy enough to hold in one hand for a moment. "The only thing about it that would be difficult would be putting up with his inane fawning over me for that long," she added with a frown, "I think I'd almost rather be shot... At least then I'd get sympathy from my friends instead of asinine jealousy." Yes, definitely not a fan...

"But why do you ask? I assume that you didn't go to the trouble of coming here just to play matchmaker?" she asked, curious now. He'd already demonstrated his intelligence and, while she already knew that was only one of the things required for success when it came to criminal activity, it made her suspect that he was up to something a bit more complicated than average. Especially since she had a difficult time imagining what sort of plan would be made easier with Bruce Wayne in particular out of the way.

[Edward Nygma]

For as confident as Edward portrayed himself, he was as equally as sensitive, not that he would ever admit it. He was prone to overreacting to the slightest of insults, having a short temper to match. Many might brush a comment off, but Edward would remember for any length of time, until eventually, returning an appropriate repercussion to such person that had made the comment.

However, this was neither the time nor place to dive into an analysis of Dr. Isley’s preferences in partners, nor did he have interest in the woman before him. Yes, Dr. Isley was strikingly beautiful, possessed wit, and appeared to have the barest hint of intelligence. Unfortunately, she possessed her own unpleasant air of arrogance (Edward’s arrogance did not compete well with others), and she was incredibly dangerous. The few moments trapped under her spell was likely only one glimpse of what she could do, and dangerous women hardly took breaks ups well. Best not to trifle in such personal matters, and rather seek her for opportunities such as this one.

He let out a laugh, recognizing the boredom that came with entertaining an idiot like Bruce Wayne of all people. “Mr. Wayne certainly does not offer much in intelligent conversation, but unfortunately, his biometric data would be quite inconvenient for me should he arrived to Wayne Towers that morning,” he stated, providing enough information that she would understand while avoiding the particular details of his plans. He did not expect this woman to run off to the Gotham City Police Department when she too was involved in criminal affairs, but it was best not to share too much information with anyone. “I am more than willing to accommodate for your time, depending on your interest. I would offer you money or jewels. However, a woman of your caliber appears to have a far more unique taste in what satisfies her,” he complimented with a sly smirk.

[Pamela Isley]

Pamela had literally never been on the receiving end of a breakup. This was because the only boyfriend she'd ever had at the time was her boyfriend on that fateful night in Dr. Woodrue's lab and, ever since then, she did all the breaking up. She would never consider being with someone who wasn't under her spell, and no man under her spell would ever dream of breaking up with her. Even so, one could not say that she handled breakups well - only the first one died, but only because the first one taught her to be careful about killing people when it was easy for you to become a suspect and also because Batman had managed to save Harvey Dent. The rest were alive, but each time the breakup was hardly a pleasant experience for the man involved.

No, Pamela was a woman who was just as toxic as the poisons she made. In fact, his supposition that she'd avoid going to the Gotham City Police Department with any information she got here because she feared them looking into her was actually wrong. After her first brush with the authorities, she'd gotten wiser. True, she had managed to come through it with her place in society intact, but it had taken her a lot of work to repair her reputation. That was not an insignificant problem to her, and yet she recognized that she'd been lucky. Not wishing to rely on luck, she kept all evidence of her criminal activities as invisible and inscrutable as possible. She was quite confident that she could weather an investigation by the police, just as long as no absolute proof was somehow obtained.

Not that she presently wished to do so - actually, her curiosity was piqued, and she let it be known with a graceful arch of her eyebrow. She had no fear of the man before her but he talked a good game and she wondered what it would be since he was being so mysterious about it. And if would harm Bruce or Wayne Enterprises, she'd count that as an amusement. And especially since what was being asked of her couldn't possibly lead to her being blamed for a crime - why would anyone blame the woman who happened to be eating breakfast with Bruce at a moment when it would have been better for him to have been elsewhere? Why shouldn't she do it just to see what happens? Whether the man's scheme succeeded or failed it would cause her no problems.

Well, no problems except that she did see it as a burden to eat breakfast with Bruce. It wasn't simply a matter of time or the skill involved to keep him distracted, but also the social burden - someone would surely notice if they were seen together, that person would tell others, and people would think things about it. So the next question was indeed what she would get out of it herself. "Well, obviously, I have a lot of money already - a useful, but boring compensation," she gave a vague wave around because, after all, they were standing in her very well-appointed greenhouse, next to her very well-appointed laboratory, in her grand and glorious garden, outside her opulent mansion. Not that she wouldn't take money, but it was such a dull thing to get out of such a deal.

"But as you already know so much about me, does that extend to knowing what I would want, or are you leaving it to me to decide?" she asked next, "If the latter, I'm afraid that I have the disadvantage of not knowing your skill set." Because, yes, she knew that he was smart, but what could he do with it?