[The way Zsasz's hand paffs Oswald's cheek sends him back to a time several years ago, a much bleaker, weaker version of himself who endured face patting from many different hands much higher up the foodchain than himself.
You're a smart monkey, but you're a monkey. And I'm the zookeeper.
It's Don Maroni's voice that echoes briefly in Oswald's mind, along with his hand smacking against Oswald's bruised up face after Maroni bailed him out of the GCPD the very first time when Oswald's ambition over-extended too far. It feels like a lifetime ago and it's not a place he wants to revisit.
He lets his face move with Zsasz's hand, though he winces with a kind of deep-boned disgust at the gesture, his lip curling upward slightly and his eyes squeezing closed like he's got a whiff of something gut-turningly pungent. The jury is still out on whether that is worse than the licking, but they may both be equally bad, just different.
In his mind there's briefly a very satisfying image of him grabbing Ed's knife and thrusting it up into the soft flesh under Zsasz's throat and up into his mouth with a furious shrieking sound, but that image stays very much a mental one as he glowers darkly at the other man out the corner of his eye.
He recognises this for what it is though: a shot across the bow. The start of a cold war.
Oswald doesn't smile or sneer, he just looks quietly furious, eyes locked on Zsasz but not moving his head from the direction it has been turned as he sucks in a deep breath through pressed in teeth.]
The state of Gotham's throne would appear to be a moot point, given the circumstances. But in any case, we will see about that. Won't we?
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You're a smart monkey, but you're a monkey. And I'm the zookeeper.
It's Don Maroni's voice that echoes briefly in Oswald's mind, along with his hand smacking against Oswald's bruised up face after Maroni bailed him out of the GCPD the very first time when Oswald's ambition over-extended too far. It feels like a lifetime ago and it's not a place he wants to revisit.
He lets his face move with Zsasz's hand, though he winces with a kind of deep-boned disgust at the gesture, his lip curling upward slightly and his eyes squeezing closed like he's got a whiff of something gut-turningly pungent. The jury is still out on whether that is worse than the licking, but they may both be equally bad, just different.
In his mind there's briefly a very satisfying image of him grabbing Ed's knife and thrusting it up into the soft flesh under Zsasz's throat and up into his mouth with a furious shrieking sound, but that image stays very much a mental one as he glowers darkly at the other man out the corner of his eye.
He recognises this for what it is though: a shot across the bow. The start of a cold war.
Oswald doesn't smile or sneer, he just looks quietly furious, eyes locked on Zsasz but not moving his head from the direction it has been turned as he sucks in a deep breath through pressed in teeth.]
The state of Gotham's throne would appear to be a moot point, given the circumstances. But in any case, we will see about that. Won't we?