There is a part of Oswald that feels the draw of this, like a tiny flame in the darkness or an island to make land at during a storm. There's a fantasy forming, tempting and dangerous--a true what if from some cartoon or science fiction story. He could pretend it never happened. Ed sounds like he doesn't want it to happen and he doesn't even know what it is. It's an opportunity for pre-forgiveness.

It's so painfully tantalising. He'd have to be an idiot to fall for it, like seeing a Free Money! Definitely Not Secretly A Trap! sign and then being shocked to find himself tumbling into a pit when he went to grab the cash.

And then, Ed is nudging him with the money he's just swiped. It makes Oswald's chest tighten, the temptation there all over again, the desire to grab hold of Ed right then and there and beg him to let them be what they'd been in those early weeks of Oswald becoming Mayor of Gotham. Oswald allows himself a brief smile, a very faint little exhale that could almost be a pleased sob if he allowed it be, and then he swallows and squeezes his eyes closed.

Ed killed that version of himself. Shot him in the stomach, pushed him in the river. Oswald has the scar to prove it. If Oswald needs to kill that weak version of himself again, he'll do it.

He nudges the clip with the back of his knuckle, pushing it back toward Ed.

"I think you should keep hold of that for now," he puts on one of his faker smiles, not fully able to muster the ability to smooth the sharper edges, "Safer keeping with someone who knows all their own pockets already."

Safer than Ed trying to pull a bait and switch and tell that Unmarked that it was Oswald who was the real pickpocket.