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ROGUES | S01E16: Postmortem
🕑 Added 2020-08-11 16:12:00 +0000 UTCROGUES | S01E16: Postmortem
(car interior noises)
EDWARD: You should have seen his face! I bet he’d have been happier if I’d just punched him in the catheter.
JON: I’m guessin’ it went like you wanted it to?
EDWARD: What do you mean?
JON: Come on, you never imagined the scenario?
EDWARD: You thought I had that conversation with my father drafted in my mind ahead of time?
JON: Maybe. Clever boy like you -
EDWARD: Watch it.
JON: Should’ve had some real pretty words lined up. Words to be quoted by.
EDWARD: Maybe if I’d actually killed him, I could have dropped some one-liner. See you in Hell, perhaps?
JON: Yeah, somethin’ snappy, like a movie.
EDWARD: And I’m the one accused of dramatics.
JON: Why didn’t you kill him?
EDWARD: Too little, too late.
JON: Not goin’ soft, are ya?
EDWARD: Not to say I didn’t want to kill him; it was an exercise in restraint not to.
JON: Good.
EDWARD: I should have killed him years ago, when he could have fought back. When there was some kind of sport in it.
JON: No fun in killin’ a dyin’ animal.
EDWARD: But still, it was satisfying to watch him suffer.
JON: Hm.
EDWARD: There exists a lamentable tragedy wherein he can only die one death… and I lack the temporal wherewithal to oversee the withering personally.
JON: Well ain’t you just a goddamn poet.
EDWARD: Just call me Byron.
JON: Y’know, if it had been a movie, you’d have actually screwed that nurse; just to really stick it to the old man.
EDWARD: Are you so sure I didn’t?
JON: (pause) Come again?
EDWARD: I’m good, thanks.
JON: No. Shut up. Fuckin’ - what?
EDWARD: (laugh) That stunned, slack-jawed stare - you’ve never looked more beautiful, Jon.
JON: The hell is this now - you gettin’ off on fuckin’ with me, or somethin’?
EDWARD: No, there are much more reactive targets than you. This is the boring old truth.
JON: Shoulda fuckin’ known it. Sittin’ there grinnin’ like a dead possum this whole time - you did screw that nurse.
EDWARD: I hate to be such a broken record, but… your powers of observation leave a great deal to be desired.
JON: Cut to the chase, or I start cuttin’ up your seats.
EDWARD: Oh, must we leap straight into savagery? There’s no poetry in your soul.
JON: No bullshit Ed, I am warnin’ you…
EDWARD: But there’s plenty of dirty limericks. There once was a man from Madras…
JON: Right. Where’s your knife? Give it.
EDWARD: Hey hey hey! Hands off the goods.
JON: Spill it.
EDWARD: You’re no fun. Fine, I had sex with Laura. Alright? You happy?
JON: No.
EDWARD: Well why not?
JON: You’re not makin’ sense.
EDWARD: Bless your heart.
JON: Watch it.
EDWARD: I’ll open the floor to questions, then. Aaand… go!
JON: Uhh… how?
EDWARD: How? (laughs) That’s your first question?
JON: I take it back. Gimme a do-over.
EDWARD: Don’t you want me to teach you about the birds and the bees, first?
JON: No, I’d be put off sex for life and then I’d have to kill you.
EDWARD: Far be it for me to deny an old man his woefully infrequent pleasures.
JON: Fuck off. Alright, second question… uhh, where?
EDWARD: Care to take a wild stab in the dark, as is your style?
JON: Hm. Not his bed. Wait. No. Was it?
EDWARD: Maybe if I’d had more time.
JON: Really?
EDWARD: Come on Jon; I knew her for about five minutes.
JON: Hey, ya got pretty damn far as it was.
EDWARD: I am brilliant at manipulation, but it’s almost flattering that you think I could get away with it.
JON: So you admit that you couldn’t.
EDWARD: Oh no, I could have done it. I just said I didn’t have enough time.
JON: Answer the damn question, already.
EDWARD: What was it again…? Right, right, where. Supply closet.
JON: How’d ya even do it, though?
EDWARD: How, again? Alright. When a man and a woman share a mutual disgust for one decrepit old man and a mutual admiration for one devastatingly charming genius...
JON: The courtin’ Ed, I’m not stupid.
EDWARD: Well, if you say so. But with that Gentleman’s Lilt of yours, I would think you’d need no instruction on the ways of courtship.
JON: Kind o’ you to say, but we’re talkin’ about you.
EDWARD: And what, pray tell, is so wrong with my voice?
JON: You sound like a game show host.
EDWARD: Is that an insult?
JON: You know it is.
EDWARD: Then I award you no points, and fuck you very much.
JON: How long were you up there - hour, half hour maybe?
EDWARD: About an hour.
JON: How much of that was seein’ your father?
EDWARD: Nice trap, amateur.
JON: Seems like quick work, is all I’m sayin’.
EDWARD: You haven’t seen me switch on the charm - but that doesn’t mean it’s not waiting in the wings. I may not have panties thrown at me like you do, but I can be… persuasive.
JON: Lemme get this right. You talked someone you’d never met into a bout of illicit screwin’ within an hour, on the same floor that your old man happened to be dyin’ on, and so happens that someone was your old man’s goddamn nurse.
EDWARD: Your eye is twitching. Are you having a stroke?
JON: And the word yeh use is persuasive?
EDWARD: How about compelling? Convincing. Alluring? No. Hm. Ooh, beguiling.
JON: Look. You make a lot of ramblin’ white noise, but usually it makes sense.
EDWARD: What? I’ve not done anything out of character.
JON: Have you been lyin’ your way through all your sessions?
EDWARD: I don’t lie. I simply omit key data intending to give corrupted results.
JON: … Yeah, that sounds about fuckin’ right.
EDWARD: So what’s the problem?
JON: I’ve seen people throw themselves at you before; you brush ‘em off like stray hairs. What happened, this time?
EDWARD: Well, for one thing - when I saw how Jackie was afraid of me… oh, that went straight to my head.
JON: Which one?
EDWARD: Wouldn’t you like to know. Is that how you feel all the time?
JON: Bin awhile since I got that high.
EDWARD: Jealous?
JON: Explains why you said I could drive.
EDWARD: Clearly I’m out of my mind.
JON: Famed for it.
EDWARD: But I leave the lights on.
JON: ‘Cept nobody’s home.
EDWARD: Get bent.
JON: That the first time you reckon your father was afraid of you?
EDWARD: Yes. I’d remember this feeling.
JON: But you knew he was, right?
EDWARD: Don’t tell me - you wandered upstairs, attracted by the scent of bedpans and death, loomed over his bed, looked him in the eye and demanded to know, in a deep rumbling voice that tickled the base of his soul, “what you ‘fraid of, old man?”
JON: (snickers) Dickhead. From what you told me, he’s been afraid a long time.
EDWARD: You think so?
JON: I know so.
EDWARD: It would make a kind of sense. Hey - you’re my damn psychiatrist.
JON: Yeah, so?
EDWARD: Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?
JON: Thought you knew already.
EDWARD: There’s such a thing as being too close, right? You don’t know the size of a forest when you’re stuck in the middle of it and the branches keep slapping you in the face.
JON: Well, now you know. Doubt it did you any harm not to know it ‘til now.
EDWARD: It might have helped him make more sense.
JON: Would you have done any of it different, knowing that?
EDWARD: Um… no. (laughs) I don’t regret any of it.
JON: Yeah, hold up there a sec.
EDWARD: Hm?
JON: You just don’t seem like you’ve… I mean, no one really thought you’d…
EDWARD: You assumed I’d never had sex before, right?
JON: Yeah.
EDWARD: Well, good. It’s never been something I’ve wanted to be known for.
JON: You just never showed any interest.
EDWARD: Aw, you do pay attention.
JON: Don’t flatter yourself.
EDWARD: God forbid; but not showing an interest doesn’t mean I don’t know how. You know me and my distaste for wilful ignorance.
JON: How could I forget. Tell ya what though: knowin’ that you do - have - will - whatever, makes you… a bit more interesting to me.
EDWARD: Oh, happy day.
JON: Used to think maybe you were afraid.
EDWARD: No, no, no. You know better than anyone that fear is a surrender of power.
JON: One of its beauties.
EDWARD: And do I strike you as someone who would willingly place the balance of power in someone else’s hands, for any reason?
JON: Nope. You’re a borderline megalomaniac who doesn’t trust anyone.
EDWARD: Precisely.
JON: And an obsessive compulsive who wears gloves in case he leaves prints.
EDWARD: That’s just… expectation of the unexpected.
JON: And a special kinda asshole who’s makin’ me think he’s got a big ol’ streak o’ exhibitionism runnin’ through his narcissism.
EDWARD: I made you think? Wow. You’re welcome. I have no fear of sex, simply no desire to have it for its own sake.
JON: So not to get off, then.
EDWARD: Nope.
JON: The hell else is it for?
EDWARD: Depends on the situation, depends on my mood.
JON: Okay, I don’t get it. You have sex, even though you don’t do it for sex alone?
EDWARD: Oh, God. It’s quite simple: I see sex as a tool - one that I am immune to. When I need to or want to, I use it against others.
JON: Like a weapon?
EDWARD: Sure, that works too.
JON: But you don’t enjoy it?
EDWARD: What, physically? Sure, when I focus - otherwise I switch off… go on autopilot.
JON: So you enjoy it, but not so much that you want it all the time.
EDWARD: You can be quite dense, you know that?
JON: Hey - I’m tryin’ to understand somethin’ that is way outta my scope.
EDWARD: Alright, um... in this particular situation it was a game, like most everything is to me.
JON: Your father, or the girl?
EDWARD: Two roles, one game.
JON: So what was the reason for it?
EDWARD: Well, as I watched him, I saw that I could ruin the last days of his life in a much more creative way than simply killing him.
JON: By takin’ the girl from him.
EDWARD: (exhale; self-satisfied) God, but I’m a magnificent bastard.
JON: And so modest, too.
EDWARD: (laugh) The hell is there to be modest about?
JON: Yeah, you can have that. Supply closet, huh. Yeh reckon he heard?
EDWARD: That was rather the point, so I’d say yes. Unless he’s deaf as well as dim.
JON: So did you actually want that girl?
EDWARD: Only for her uses.
JON: Oh so she’s a what and not a who?
EDWARD: Like you give a shit.
JON: Humour me.
EDWARD: Laura was a chess piece.
JON: Explain.
EDWARD: My queen. Most powerful piece on the board, though she didn’t realise it. Delightfully open to being led by the nose - by the right person, of course.
JON: How led was she?
EDWARD: It’s a rare thing to have a queen willing to sacrifice herself.
JON: Again, I say - persuasive is the word you chose?
EDWARD: Maybe I could start a cult. Play your cards right, you could be wife number seven.
JON: Important question is: how was it?
EDWARD: Woof. There’s an indiscretion.
JON: Come on, you love to show off.
EDWARD: But I’m not indiscreet.
JON: Tell me one thing then.
EDWARD: That depends on what that one thing is.
JON: Did you take your gloves off?
EDWARD: (laughs) Yes. Yes, I did. I conduct better without.
JON: Yeah, that begs another question.
EDWARD: Beg for your life then.
JON: Since you see sex as some kinda spectacle, then there’s gotta to be people you’ve… what’s the word… rehearsed on.
EDWARD: What the hell are you getting at?
JON: Just assumed you were gay.
EDWARD: Well you’re certainly not the first, and I fear you shan’t be the last.
JON: Huh.
EDWARD: That’s twice now you’ve been wrong. Your assumptions are really going ass-up.
JON: Shut up. So you’re not gay.
EDWARD: No.
JON: Straight?
EDWARD: No.
JON: … Well, fine, bi, then.
EDWARD: And the three-legged mule crosses the line! Somebody shoot the poor devil.
JON: Chrissakes. You couldn’t have just given it to me straight?
EDWARD: Not possible, I’m afraid. (laughs)
JON: (sighs) You can make yourself laugh. At least you got that.
EDWARD: Now, quid pro quo.
JON: Wha’? You already know I’m straight.
EDWARD: Yes, I know that. No no no, I told you about Laura - something that I had no intention of telling anyone -
JON: Really?
EDWARD: Yes. Really. So now you have to tell me one of your better kept secrets.
JON: Do I, now?
EDWARD: Fair’s fair.
JON: Alright, but you’re gonna have to tell me how you got that girl so fast.
EDWARD: Oh God, the thought of you wooing somebody is… disturbing, at best.
JON: Fuck off, I could learn it.
EDWARD: Come on - I’m… (chuckles) usually all chase no catch; you’re all catch no chase.
JON: Yeah, saw no point to it before.
EDWARD: And now?
JON: Thinkin’ of the possibilities.
EDWARD: Mm, you could get laid twice a year.
JON: I handle my own business just fine, thank you. I mean, how often do you?
EDWARD: What, right now? I’d say… more than I could ever need.
JON: You said quid pro quo, right?
EDWARD: I sure did. Are you going to stall for more time?
JON: No, I got one that’ll wipe that damn smirk right off your face.
EDWARD: What, with the sheer elation I am currently wading in? I doubt it.
JON: Harley.
EDWARD: What about her?
JON: (silence)
EDWARD: Pff. (laughs) You wish.
JON: (silence)
EDWARD: Ohh, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.
JON: Twice.
EDWARD: (struggles) (snaps) What? … No, no no - WHAT?
JON: Now who’s havin’ a stroke?
EDWARD: Oh God, not over that. (pause) Never over that. How are you still alive?
JON: This wasn’t fuckin’... last week.
EDWARD: No shit; last week you were a human garbage fire.
JON: Such a fuckin’ sweetheart, this one.
EDWARD: You think it matters when? Joker’s got this romantic belief that she was only ever there to get him.
JON: She was. Never said things were romantic.
EDWARD: Like I said - you and romance is a disturbing concept. Ohh… you know if Joker finds out, you’ll be lucky if the GCPD finds all your parts.
JON: Doubt he will; reckon she’d deny it.
EDWARD: That bad, huh?
JON: Ask her sometime; see what she says.
EDWARD: What’s the story then, and how the hell did I miss it?
JON: You were around. She used to be your doctor, too.
EDWARD: Oh, then?
JON: Thereabouts.
EDWARD: I should have guessed. She scaled the Cliffs of Insanity; first Tetch, then me, then you - when she finally won her audience with the Joker, well... what Madam wants, Madam gets. Where were you in all that?
JON: I was got.
EDWARD: Wait. Is that - is that why she cares about you so much?
JON: Oh for fuck’s sake Ed, she’s a professional. She cares about everyone in her charge, even you.
EDWARD: An incredibly valid point. And I imagine if she and I had had sex, I would remember that.
JON: Oh, yeah. You would.
EDWARD: (chuckle) You filthy swine.
JON: (sniffs) You’re not still sayin’ I smell, are you?
EDWARD: No, you don’t. Though that usually well-turned coif is a little flat today.
JON: Not my fault. Water pressure in that motel shower was godawful.
EDWARD: Agreed. Like my old shower stall in Arkham; practically Chinese water torture.
JON: Sure, on Level 1. Worst you get is clear glass and someone watchin’; try Level 4.
EDWARD: Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of being deemed quite as disturbed as you.
JON: They chain you to the wall. And if you’re lucky, you get someone with a sponge.
EDWARD: And it sounds like you weren’t the lucky one.
JON: Ain’t no horseshoe up my ass; I got the hose.
EDWARD: It’s an amusing proposition… but risky. The orderlies already bickered over who supervised my showers - with sponges involved, there could have been a riot.
JON: Prob’ly had a bet on if the carpets match the drapes.
EDWARD: (surprised laugh)
JON: Well do they?
EDWARD: Now where’s the fun in just telling you?
JON: Hm. You know, Arkham’s got this thing in Level 4. If your therapist happens to be a psychiatrist, they have to look in on you - check you haven’t been harmin’ yourself.
EDWARD: Best keep my demons on a leash then and deprive you of your free show. Huh. That would mean that Harley saw you - all of you, that is - back then.
JON: Yup.
EDWARD: She must have been rendered morbidly curious. Is that how it started?
JON: She said so, but I still don’t think it was just a matter of her wantin’ to.
EDWARD: A little egotistical, don’t you think?
JON: What? No… I mean she’s smarter than that.
EDWARD: What then, she taste-tested you? Took you for a test drive, perhaps?
JON: When you put it like that…
EDWARD: Probably liked you and had to make sure it was Joker she wanted.
JON: Hm.
EDWARD: But alas, you didn’t make the grade so you were used, abused, and discarded like an old dildo.
JON: Dildo my ass.
EDWARD: (laughs) Jonny didn’t think that one through.
JON: Shut up. And, and - if you get me killed, I’ll kill you.
EDWARD: Never fear, my friend - your grubby little secret is safe with me.
JON: Where’s my guarantee?
EDWARD: The knowledge that I find this world far more entertaining with your cantankerous, hubristic ass still in it.
JON: That is some weak sauce.
EDWARD: Alright, me knowing gets my precious flesh maimed, too; Puddin’ doesn’t stop to think where his precious Boo is concerned. Your secret is less of a weapon and more of a pathogen.
JON: That’s more like it.
EDWARD: (laughs) But come on - really? You were the Joker’s understudy? Oof. My ego hurts on your behalf.
JON: Oh, you’re too kind. But I ain’t losin’ any sleep over it.
EDWARD: What little there is to lose.
JON: Dodged a bullet, as far as I’m concerned.
EDWARD: Hey - if he gets hurt or killed, we can dress you up like a mime, to cheer her up. (laughing) See if you can make your way out of the invisible box (loses control)...
JON: I oughta punch you right in your stupid face.
EDWARD: (laughing) Aw, don’t get all mushy on me, now.
JON: (amused) Shut up, Ed.
ELSEWHERE…
(Fireplace crackling)
OSWALD: Yes, thank you - that will be all. (grunt) Most impressive. But you needn’t linger in the shadows any longer, Mr. Sage.
SAGE: Good evening, Oswald.
OSWALD: You have ten words before I have you killed. At your leisure.
SAGE: I would like to propose an exchange of information.
OSWALD: You’ve one word left, Mr. Sage.
SAGE: Please.
OSWALD: (chuckles) Good man. Information, eh? Off the record, I assume.
SAGE: Naturally.
OSWALD: I’ll be frank, Mr. Sage. What information could you possibly have that I would find remotely useful?
SAGE: Amanda Waller.
OSWALD: Keep talking.
SAGE: I have sufficient information that will move her attention away from your direction, for the foreseeable future.
OSWALD: Hm. Is it substantiated? Or shall I don a tinfoil hat?
SAGE: The myth of tinfoil hats was a government invention. Not only do they not keep radio waves out of your brain, they act as a beacon to allow yourself to be tracked. That said, the information I have is real.
OSWALD: Huh. You’re becoming more useful by the moment. And what might be your wild desire in return, hm? Access to Area 51, perhaps?
SAGE: I’d bite, if Area 51 wasn’t just a front to get us all believing in little green men.
OSWALD: Not a believer then, in alien life?
SAGE: On the contrary. But no intelligent life form would come within a million light years of this galactic cesspit.
OSWALD: (scoffs) I’m sure Superman would take issue with that.
SAGE: I stand by it.
OSWALD: Well done. What do you want, then?
SAGE: I require information on Brainiac.
OSWALD: And what, pray, is a brainiac?
SAGE: Ignorance isn’t one of your strong suits, Oswald.
OSWALD: Your faith in me is most reassuring.
SAGE: Not faith; trust. I mean, voted for you, after all.
OSWALD: You did?
SAGE: There’s a fundamental honesty about a truly dishonest man.
OSWALD: Alright, then. I’ll get your information.
SAGE: Good. Then we have an accord. You’ll hear from me.
OSWALD: No, you’ll hear from me. Now, you can see yourself out.
SAGE: Right. (door opens) Oh yes; one more thing, Mr. Mayor.
OSWALD: Yes?
SAGE: It’s about Jonathan Crane.
OSWALD: The man is well in hand.
SAGE: Not him, specifically. It’s about his bird.
Comments
there was so much flirting in this :-D breakup or no breakup, I hope they do someting about each other in the future.
