Riddler's jaw goes tight, his gaze fixed elsewhere for a long moment. There's small twitches, suggestions that he's putting a lot of thoughts and words and things he could say in place and order, sorting through them, discarding them and picking up others to try in his mind.

"Yes. In short, yes. Do you know what I do, Oswald? For Ed. I handle the things he can't. When he goes to pieces, I step in. When he's too dumb to be quiet, I shut him up. I try. I keep things together because he can't. And this place? What they do to people here? Makes me wary. Gotham and Arkham didn't do that."