Oswald wants to take those words to heart, ball them up between his palms and press the warmth of them somewhere in his chest to try and coax some of the healing along.
Instead, it feels more bitter than sweet to taste as he shakes his head.
"You cannot apologise for something that you do not know the shape of, Ed. Full of good intentions as you are."
He could sound cutting and cruel with ease--he has enough venom at the best of times and enough stored up especially for Ed that he could make every syllable of every word into a razor. But he doesn't. Instead, he sounds sort of... sad. Or at the very least confused, maybe tired.
It's hard to know how to feel about this Edward Nygma, what to believe, what to trust. The possibility that this is a trap wanders through Oswald's mind again and if Ed, or Riddler, or both are playing him on this level then he may as well just give them his crown right here and now.
no subject
Instead, it feels more bitter than sweet to taste as he shakes his head.
"You cannot apologise for something that you do not know the shape of, Ed. Full of good intentions as you are."
He could sound cutting and cruel with ease--he has enough venom at the best of times and enough stored up especially for Ed that he could make every syllable of every word into a razor. But he doesn't. Instead, he sounds sort of... sad. Or at the very least confused, maybe tired.
It's hard to know how to feel about this Edward Nygma, what to believe, what to trust. The possibility that this is a trap wanders through Oswald's mind again and if Ed, or Riddler, or both are playing him on this level then he may as well just give them his crown right here and now.