The mention of Falcone makes Oswald's eyes widen momentarily, but then his brain backtracks. Sofia. Not Carmine. A slow creasing of his brow replaces the surprise, but he says nothing on the matter. He knows the name, in the way that most people know what arms of the Falcone family are well and truly off limits as far as negotiations are concerned, but he's never met the girl who was whisked away from Gotham for her own safety.

If what Ed is saying is true (and that remains a big if) then Oswald has some questions for Zsasz. If Zsasz will converse; Zsasz isn't really much of a conversationalist. Or one for intel. He's got a very particular job that he does very well and it involves getting rid of heartbeats.

Idly, Oswald strokes his lower lip with the flat of his thumbnail, distracted temporarily from the question of whether Ed is secretly leading him somewhere to kill him.

"It is... quite a lot of information, that is true."

But processing lots of information is what he does. What they do. Did. Ugh! He grimaces briefly, realising again how disarmingly easy it would be to fall in step with Ed once more, how he's virtually laid a table, prepared a fest and is pulling out a chair for Oswald to sit at. It makes it hard to decide where to focus his mental energy more.

"Boiling this down, there are four of us and then a bunch of what ifs to contend with, all while we merrily traverse the wicked and wonderful ways of a transdimensional sex prison city."

He nods slowly, a humourless, disbelieving smile spreading across his face as he looks up at Ed.

"That about cover it?"