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ROGUES | S01E07: The Calhoun Ghost
🕑 Added 2018-03-31 05:08:24 +0000 UTC ROGUES | S01E07: The Calhoun Ghost(cicadas; sound of someone singing)
WAYLON: Dat’s like the singin’ I heard befo’. Dat Scarecrow, Eddie?
EDWARD: No...
JON: Full of broken thoughts… I cannot repair...
EDWARD: Wrong genre of music. That - is Jon. Drunk to his eyeballs.
WAYLON: He drunk? Never seen Jonboy drunk befo’.
EDWARD: (whispering) That’s fortunate for you - he’s a nasty SOB when he’s this drunk. You should leave this one to the master, Waylon. Slip around to the back door.
WAYLON: (whispering) What if it’s locked?
EDWARD: (whispering) It won’t be. Keep yourself hidden and wait for my signal.
WAYLON: (whispering) What signal?
EDWARD: (whispering) I’ll use your name. You’ll know it when it happens.
WAYLON: (whispering) A’ight, Eddie. (footsteps)
EDWARD: (inhales, small laugh) I should have brought a helmet for this. Reach… (knocks)
(shotgun blast takes out the door)
EDWARD: Shit, shit, shit… worse than I thought. Right, before he reloads… (enters) Jon! (small laugh) Long time no see.
JON: (scoff) Gimme a second, I can fix that.
EDWARD: Put down the gun, Jon.
JON: Why should I?
EDWARD: Because that’s no way to greet your guest.
JON: You’re not a guest - you’re a curse. Turnin’ up where you don’t belong. Again. So then to what do I owe, Mr. Riddler?
EDWARD: (sighs; says softly) Honorifics. (normal) Divine providence?
JON: Rancid fuckin’ luck.
EDWARD: Potato, po-tah-to.
JON: Like trackin’ in dog shit you can’t hose off. And how the hell d’you find me? D’you throw a tag on me before tellin’ me to scoot? Like some kinda dog?
EDWARD: Ha! A charming idea, but I don’t play those kinds of cards. That’s more your bag.
JON: Can’t prove that.
EDWARD: Oh ho ho, you’re not as clever as you think. Turn the tracking history on next time and you’ll see the charming note I wrote for you through the streets of Gotham. Every step was pure passive-aggressive poetry. A truculent trochee.
JON: Oh my god, shut up.
ED: I suppose I should be grateful. I mean, without that little antiquated accoutrement, I wouldn’t have been able to tap out my messages to my gallant rescuer. The hobbled hero himself and his doting… compatriots.
JON: Knew that bit o’ generousity'd be back to bite me square in the ass.
EDWARD: Generosity? Please. I’d have found a way out without your expertise.
JON: Pfff. Without me, Elliot woulda put you down like the weepin’ little bitch that you are, and good fuckin’ riddance it woulda been.
EDWARD: (deadpan) Ow, my feelings.
JON: And since you ain’t got no one else who can stand you, here you are - holdin’ up my door frame.
EDWARD: And not a moment too soon, I might add. From the looks of this masonry, you need another load-bearing wall.
JON: Oh, tha’s real cute.
EDWARD: Cuter than you. Russia must be missing its greatest love machine.
JON: Fuck off. Jus’ can’t stop yourself from annoyin’ the ever-lovin’ fuck outta me, can you? Like it’s your damn job.
EDWARD: More of a thankless calling, really.
JON: So this is how I die, huh? Talked to death by Edward Nygma.
EDWARD: There are worse ways to go.
JON: Pathetic. Drivin’ all the way down here just to run your mouth. How long did it take you to get bored with yourself, five minutes?
EDWARD: Four and a half. I’m so happy to see that some fire has returned to your belly, Jon; you’re such entertaining company when you’re bombed.
JON: Please tell me you have an off-switch.
EDWARD: (laughs) Sorry, I’m one of the defective models. I never rode a bike, but Daddy dun’ learned me how to roll with the punches.
JON: You’re givin’ me a headache, Edward... and I’m feelin’.. erg.
EDWARD: That’ll be the moonshine eating away at what’s left of your brain and liver like a fine necrosis, turning those formerly tender organs into mouldy Swiss cheese.
JON: I’m beggin’ you - shut the fuck up. Ughh.
EDWARD: Ah buh buh buh - mind the shoes.
JON: Prissy li’l bitch. Ugh. Just shoot me now and get it over with.
EDWARD: Oh hush. Haha. Ahh, you know, when you’re drunk, I feel like I’m waving a flag at a bull; such a thrill. Bulls are color blind, by the way - it’s all about the waving of the flag, not the colour of the thing. Just FYI.
JON: (groaning) I was alone a minute ago. What happened to that?
EDWARD: Oh, but is a man ever truly alone when he has piles of broken glass, rivulets of spilled liquor, and the charming fug of what I can only assume is bovine flatulence? My friend, truly you are King Midas. This an... embarrassment of riches.
JON: Shut. Up.
EDWARD: Or perhaps I could call it your - empire of dirt?
JON: Just beggin’ fer a smack in the teeth, ain’t you?
EDWARD: (snickers) Your brain too addled with booze and bullshit to parry me properly? How dull of you. (amused) I’d like to see you try and knock me down, straw man.
JON: Jus’ gimme a sec to get my balance...
EDWARD: Sit down, Jon, before you embarrass yourself.
JON: I got this. Yeah. I got this.
(swing and a miss)
EDWARD: (laughs) Oh bravo..
JON: (moans) Just leave me alone.
EDWARD: Not a chance - not while I’m having so much fun. (snickering) Since I’ve yet to bear witness to your two-step of terror, I’m going to assume you bothered to medicate yourself?
JON: Drinkin’ keeps him quiet.
EDWARD: I imagine you don’t keep separate tabs. He can’t get the upper hand because it’s like grasping at a slippery rope. Is drinking the only medication you have, right now?
JON: Well I don’t have access to my office, now do I? Stupid.
EDWARD: You can’t just drink yourself sane, Jon. You’ll die first.
JON: (shrug) It’s the best I got, right now.
EDWARD: Fortunately for you, Jekyll, I think ahead. (pats his pocket) I’ve got some happy Jonny drug right here.
JON: You a chemist now too? You get a medical degree on the way down?
EDWARD: Oh blow it out your ass. Harley put it together, you ingrate. For whatever reason, she still actually cares about your well-being.
JON: Dumb kid don’t know when to stop. (bitter laugh) Bring it here.
EDWARD: I’d rather not.
JON: Oh, what’s the problem? Don’t wanna get too close? Yeh afraid of me, now, Mr. Big Shot? Took you long enough to grow some sense.
EDWARD: Mere self-preservation, I think you’ll find. From the smell as much as anything else. I think I smell livestock... but I sure don’t see any.
JON: The fuck are you on about?
EDWARD: Come to think of it, what IS that smell? Is it you? Good grief. How long have you been in here?
JON: None o’ your fuckin’ business.
EDWARD: Judging by all the bottles I see, you must have emptied the local liquor store on your way in, and then never again saw the light of day.
JON: What of it?
EDWARD: You treat yourself like shit, Jon, you know that?
JON: I can handle it.
EDWARD: Oh yes, I’m very impressed. Still smoking, too?
JON: Tryin’ not to.
EDWARD: That’s one good thing, at least.
JON: ‘S expensive.
EDWARD: (snorts) Of course.
JON: Unless you got some on you?
EDWARD: Certainly not.
JON: Figures. Useless.
EDWARD: Besides, if you lit up now, you’d set fire to that poor dead possum you’ve glued to your face.
JON: ‘S called a beard, genius.
EDWARD: Whatever it is, it should be taken out back and shot. Don’t you usually shave every morning?
JON: No. Maybe. I s’pose. You keepin’ tabs on my ablutions too?
EDWARD: Does everyone forget I used to be a private detective? Where you’re concerned, the order of your appearance is closely linked to your mental state - and one of those is in complete disarray.
JON: ‘M out of my routine. That’s all. The rest is none of your business.
EDWARD: Fine. Then schedule an appointment with your therapist and get your shit in order like the rest of us.
JON: Don’t have one.
EDWARD: (sighs) Well, they keep her behind six-inches of glass now, but she’s still willing, Jon - do try to keep up.
JON: She ain’t got a license, dickhead, she ain’t a doctor no more.
EDWARD: She’s still effective, and you’re in no position to discriminate. So did you ever plan on seeing the light of day again, or is this Patient Zero angle working for you?
JON: Nuthin’ to go out for.
EDWARD: A self-imposed house arrest. (chuckles) I imagine the townsfolk are saying that the old Crane place is haunted. They hear something crashing around, shouting, cursing, singing… OooOOOooo.
JON: They been sayin’ that for years. Dumb fucks think Elijah Crane still looms in the shadows. Hrooin’ and hraain’ through the corn fields.
EDWARD: I’m sure they’d prefer that.
JON: Whussat?
EDWARD: Oh, I said that’s awkward.
JON: Hm. Upside is it keeps ‘em away.
EDWARD: We have to get you out of here, Jon. You’re going to kill yourself, living like this.
JON: I’m sorry, who’s the fuckin’ doctor ‘round here, again?
EDWARD: Some doctor. The mortician wouldn’t even have to pickle you, the rate you’re going. You’re no use to anyone in a half-starved stupor, drinking yourself to death.
JON: (sigh) ‘m no use, period.
EDWARD: Can I get that in writing?
JON: (groans)
EDWARD: Oh, come now. There’s always work to be done.
JON: Fuck that.
EDWARD: Jon. Listen to me for once. We need you back in Gotham.
JON: Who’s “we”?
EDWARD: Everyone of note. Now - do you remember anything?
JON: I’m inebriated, not amnesi… amnesia…
EDWARD: Amnesiatic.
JON: That.
EDWARD: No shit, Jon. I meant what happened to get you here, you imbecile.
JON: Bits and pieces. Didn’t look so bad on the news.
EDWARD: You can thank Oswald and his vast fortunes for that.
JON: Arkham has security tapes.
EDWARD: Strange thing, that. Technical error. As far as the GCPD can tell, the cameras stopped working around the time the lockdown started. (snicker)
JON: I’m sure you had nothing to do with that.
EDWARD: Can’t prove that. But that’s what you’ve heard. What do you remember?
JON: (pause) I remember - (pause) faces. Voices. Screams.
EDWARD: Well, it is an asylum.
JON: I think I killed a lotta people, Ed. … I fucked up.
EDWARD: And a fine inward pike off the wagon it was. I swear, you have no moderation for these things; it’s a rampage or it’s nothing. But life must go on, Jon - shikata ga nai.
JON: Would it kill you to be less blasé about this?
EDWARD: You’re not telling me you feel bad for hurting people? (laughs) You?
JON: Mm. (chuckles) Good point. I think I slept through the lecture on primum non nocere; I sure don’t remember swearin’ by it.
EDWARD: Then what’s the problem? Come on, it’s not like you killed anyone important.
JON: Kind of you to decide.
EDWARD: What do you want me to do, throw you to the wolves?
JON: Not ‘specially. But I did do it, even if I can’t remember it. My hands.
EDWARD: What do you want from me, absolution?
JON: Hah! You're not fit to give that to anyone.
EDWARD: But I could provide restitution.
JON: And how might you do that?
EDWARD: Lucky old stiff that you are, you’ve got friends in high places. You won’t be the one to hang for this particular crime.
JON: Why would you do that?
EDWARD: We protect our own.
JON: When it suits you.
EDWARD: (laughs) Surely you don’t expect our motives to be pure. Come on, now.
JON: (chuckles) Alright. What’s in it for you, then?
EDWARD: Greater good. At least, a greater outcome than the boring old truth.
JON: ‘M sure I’ll find out the real reason sooner or later. So tell me - did I really kill Bolton?
EDWARD: One hundred percent. Saw it with my own four eyes.
JON: Good.
EDWARD: And not a tear was shed. It was practically a community service.
JON: Shoulda just scrambled his tiny brain when I opened his skull.
EDWARD: It might have saved time, yes. Ah, the road not taken...
JON: So since you're not here to toss me to the bailiffs, what are you really here for?
EDWARD: Clearly I’m only here for your stunning company and unrivalled hospitality.
JON: You weren’t invited.
EDWARD: I don’t mind being off the guest list for this particular barn dance. (chuckles) Seriously though - I’ve come to take you home.
JON: What?
EDWARD: Yes. And that’s the truth, for once. Scout’s honour.
JON: You were never a scout.
EDWARD: Was too!
JON: I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you. I’m happy right here.
EDWARD: Right on the first, wrong on the second. Must there be such lies between us?
JON: Why break the habit now?
EDWARD: (laughs) Indeed. Now come along, or I’ll have to take more drastic measures.
JON: I ain’t goin’.
EDWARD: I thought you might be like this. (rattling of buckles) See this?
JON: Wassat?
EDWARD: As if you don’t know intimately what a straitjacket looks like. If you come willingly, I won’t need to use it.
JON: Oh please. You and what army?
EDWARD: (jingles buckles) Tick tock, Jon.
JON: Oh Jesus… Poor Query and Echo, stuck with you this whole drive.
EDWARD: They’re sitting this one out.
JON: Pity. (snort) So it’s just you? You’re going to get me into that?
EDWARD: I was hoping you’d come without a fight.
JON: No chance.
EDWARD: You could put yourself in it. A show of willing, perhaps?
JON: Fuck off.
EDWARD: Thought not. Coercion it is, then.
JON: You’re gonna coerce me? Wit’ what, your dizzying intellect? Or those delicate, manicured hands o’ yours?
EDWARD: (laughs) Not quite. Try this hypothesis on for size: you see, I figured you would dig your heels in. I knew you would never listen to me no matter what I said, no matter how poorly your physical state may have been, because you’re a recalcitrant son of a bitch when you feel like it. Best case scenario, you took off into the woods to become a local folk legend whispered over midnight campfires. Worst case scenario, you tried to kill me and lowered the world’s mean intelligence quotient as a result. Therefore, I stole a straitjacket from Arkham when I went to visit Harley - who so kindly gave me the prescription for your meds, like the good doctor she is. I have a tranquiliser dart if I need it, and pills for if you become more amenable. But here’s the kicker - say, for the sake of example, that before I left Gotham, I asked someone big and strong to come along for the ride so that when you inevitably acted like the stubborn jackass that you are, they could manhandle you into this straitjacket in a shameful display that will be sure to keep me tickled for days on end.
JON: That’s ridiculous. (snorts) No one would help you.
EDWARD: (smirks) Absurd, isn’t it?
(they laugh)
EDWARD: (laughter peters off) Oh, Waylon? … Get him.
(WAYLON tackles JON)
(sounds of a struggle)
EDWARD: (self-satisfied laugh) I knew this was a good idea.
Comments
Mage
When I saw that Jon was gonna be drunk in this one I was like HOOO boi excellent job
I was wondering how this reunion would go down. Absolutely fabulous.
