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ROGUES | S01E10: True Grits
🕑 Added 2018-05-14 03:56:40 +0000 UTC ROGUES | S01E10: True Grits(interior of restaurant)
JON: Thank fuck for that. I’ve had to piss for about two hours.
EDWARD: You could have said something. Or, you know, anything.
JON: You had me in a straitjacket. What could you do, hold it for me?
EDWARD: Not likely; I didn’t bring my tweezers.
JON: That’s funny. You’re funny. Well since you love annoyin’ the piss outta me so much, you won’t mind if some of it ends up on your seats.
EDWARD: (dramatic) And then I killed him, Your Honour. No court would convict me.
JON: Maybe not. But you wouldn’t have crashed your car just on the off chance of killin’ me, no matter what you say.
EDWARD: So you called my bluff. What do you want, a prize?
JON: You got one?
EDWARD: Actually, I do. (rattling) Your pills. (laughing) Take them in good health.
JON: Shut up. (takes one)
EDWARD: Well, you look like an ad for famine relief - hungry yet?
JON: Starvin’. You payin’ for this, moneybags?
EDWARD: Of course, I’m a more benevolent kidnapper than most. Get whatever you want: I insist.
JON: Famous last words.
EDWARD: Alright, let’s see here… oh, have mercy. Is there anything on here that hasn’t had all the honest nourishment fried out of it?
JON: Possibly the grits.
EDWARD: What the hell are grits? Dyslexic grist?
JON: In a manner of speakin’.
EDWARD: Now, is it a food, or is it a penance?
JON: You talk a lotta shit, you know that?
EDWARD: I’m just saying that I haven’t been so wicked lately, that I deserve to be chastised with food.
JON: You really don’t know what grits are?
EDWARD: Edward Nygma is not found this far south of the Mason Dixon Line, Jon.
JON: You don’t. Say.
EDWARD: Normally a point of personal pride. I confess to finding myself out of my element.
JON: What’s your point, if you have one?
EDWARD: This is Russian Roulette with food. What do I eat?
JON: You poor stupid baby.
EDWARD: What’s it going to take? Hm? Begging? Is that it?
JON: It might help.
EDWARD: Typical. (under his breath) Sadistic bastard… (sarcastic) Dr. Crane. I implore you. I require your assistance with decoding this… this… tablet of hieroglyphs.
JON: Try the Rosetta stone. By the way, that was some of the worst begging I’ve ever heard.
EDWARD: I was never a good supplicant; but still, you can’t have heard Tetch yet.
JON: Oh yeah? He finally annoy you enough to off him?
EDWARD: Yes, and then no. The bespawling cuckoo knows just enough information to allow him to keep on ticking. I’d call it cunning if it weren’t garden-variety insanity.
JON: He got somethin’ worth knowin’?
EDWARD: Maybe. What of it?
JON: Dr. Crane has ways of makin’ people talk.
EDWARD: What? You never offer to help.
JON: I’m not usually interested.
EDWARD: I’ll keep it in mind. But since you’re in a helpful mood… what can I eat here that has the least chance of giving me a hellish combination of malnutrition and dysentery?
JON: Maybe you deserve to get dysentery.
EDWARD: What did I do?
JON: You made Waylon stuff me in that straitjacket, dragged me from my home, and then made me listen to you rattle on unmerciless about nothin’ for miles and miles.
EDWARD: Some people would kill for the opportunity to hear me rattle on.
JON: And I’d kill not to. Gimme one good reason why I shouldn’t just gouge your face open with this spoon and toss this Tabasco in it.
EDWARD: Because you’re a kind and generous soul who holds himself above petty negative emotions and doesn’t hold a grudge?
(pause)
(both laugh)
EDWARD: Alright, alright. Seriously though - I needed Waylon because you wouldn’t have come willingly, and he was the person least likely to lost patience and kill you. You’re a miserable drunk, and stubborn with it. You persist in digging your heels in even when your position makes no logical sense.
JON: I s’pose. (grin) But I do that sober, too.
EDWARD: Yes, I’m aware of that. I swear you do it simply to annoy me.
JON: Sometimes. That twitch you get in your left eye adds years to my life. (chuckles)
EDWARD: My left - (grumbles) You may live to see middle-age, yet. But I can stop myself from falling victim to your little ruses.
JON: Not likely. How will you tell what’s a ruse, and what ain’t?
EDWARD: I’m sure I can stop myself from being irritated by you.
JON: Can’t change your programming.
EDWARD: There’s no programming written that I cannot change. I’m Edward Nygma.
JON: Christ, it’s like talkin’ to Orson Welles. Where’s the rest of your good reason?
EDWARD: I did do you a favour going to get you. You hate staying in Georgia.
JON: Yeah, too many memories. Didn’t have a lotta choice in it, though. Some asshole gave me the shove outta Gotham without explaining why first.
EDWARD: Shows that you trust me, though - took my word for it, sight unseen… hmmm?
JON: Don’t flatter yourself. I assumed the cops were comin’ fer me.
EDWARD: (snickers) Narcissist.
JON: Pragmatist. There any more justifications up your sleeve?
EDWARD: You would have killed yourself, left to your own devices.
JON: Yup. But what a way to go.
EDWARD: I can think of prettier ways. All told, I’d say a chauffeured ride out of Dodge is worth the preservation of my precious visage, wouldn’t you?
JON: I s’pose.
EDWARD: Now tell me what to get, or you don’t get your trough of food to stuff in your craw.
JON: If it’ll shut you up. What d’you usually eat?
EDWARD: Vegetables. Nutrients. Aesthetically pleasant things that don’t make my heart grow three sizes.
JON: You know you're in a Waffle House, right?
EDWARD: I’m sane enough to realise that it’s the only thing open at this hour, yes.
JON: Sounds like you oughta take what you can get.
EDWARD: So that means…?
JON: Fiesta omelet.
EDWARD: The what… oh! This one. I see. (exhales) Vaya, que fiesta. Yes, that’ll have to do.
DORIS: You boys ready?
EDWARD: Yes. I’ll have the... Fiesta omelet. No peppers. Egg whites only.
DORIS: Hold the yolks?
EDWARD: … If you like? And coffee. With an orange juice. Is it freshly squeezed?
DORIS: Huh?
EDWARD: Never mind. What the hell, I’m on vacation. Toss something orangey in something glassy.
DORIS: Okey-dokey. Toast or biscuit?
EDWARD: Dry wheat toast.
DORIS: Grits, hashbrowns, or tomatoes?
EDWARD: The agony of choice. Tomatoes. So long as they’re not fried.
DORIS: Sure thing. And for you, hon?
JON: (clears throat) All-Star Special - biscuit, grits, with bacon, sausage, and both kinds of ham. Cheesesteak omelet, biscuit, hash browns. T-bone and eggs, biscuit, hash browns. Sausage, egg, cheese texas melt. Double everything. And triple hash browns. Smothered, capped, country. Double waffles. And a pie.
EDWARD: (stifling a laugh) You hearing this (reads), Doris? And he calls me Orson Welles.
DORIS: (mishearing) A slice of pie?
JON: No ma’am. One whole pie. Whatever flavour you have around; I ain’t picky.
EDWARD: (actually laughing) Good grief.
DORIS: …Pie feeds ‘bout six people.
JON: I know what I’m about, darlin’. And bring more coffee.
DORIS: Refills are...
EDWARD: Doris, you sweet little passion flower. I’m sure it has not escaped your notice that it is presently 3 in the morning. Be so good as to put down that pot you’re holding and then brew us another to join it - and bring us a pitcher of water, too.
DORIS: … Okaaay… (leaves)
JON: Water?
EDWARD: You’re clearly dehydrated.
JON: Hm. I guess.
(coffee pouring)
EDWARD: I thought I was kidding when I said trough.
JON: I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said famous last words.
EDWARD: Now, do tell - when was the last time you ate?
JON: Uhh…
EDWARD: Thaaat’s promising.
JON: (snaps fingers) I had breakfast on Thursday. See? ‘M fine.
EDWARD: … I hate to burst your happy little bubble, but it’s Saturday.
JON: Huh.
EDWARD: Was it a Kentucky breakfast?
JON: Maybe. Shut up.
EDWARD: I suppose I’d better hope that that charming Doris is speedy with your feedbag then, lest you eat the table.
JON: I’m sure I can contain myself for a few minutes.
EDWARD: Or, since Valentino introduced you to the joys of ‘long pig’, you might well eat me.
JON: All the conceit oozin’ out of your pores would make your flesh all salty.
EDWARD: Now there’s a philosophical debate: should I be offended or pleased that my firm yet tender flesh has been rejected by a cannibal? Hmm...
JON: Unintentional one, Ed. He never said what it was.
EDWARD: And after reading his magnum opus, you just ate what he put it in front of you?
JON: (shrugs) People put food in front of me, I ain’t gonna question it.
EDWARD: You have no natural warning signs.
JON: Still got no fear, remember?
EDWARD: Yes, but you can’t always blame a numb amygdala for being an imbecile. Surely your palate is not so jaded that you couldn’t tell something was off about the meat?
JON: I knew it wasn’t pork, that’s for sure. Human flesh didn’t seem the natural next step.
EDWARD: But would you have it again, is the question.
JON: Same way I had it last time; only if I didn’t know it first.
EDWARD: So the next time you eat a gas station hot dog, then.
JON: (snickers) Alright. I hafta ask you something.
EDWARD: (wary) Must you?
JON: My memories are erratic, so I wanna fill in some gaps. First thing. Did I try to kill you?
EDWARD: Only a few times. As you can see, you were unsuccessful.
JON: Well shit. Wait, a few times?
EDWARD: The first was in your office.
JON: What were you doin’ in there?
EDWARD: I was on my way out. Release day, remember?
JON: Right, right. I don’t remember that at all.
EDWARD: Probably for the best. I did hit you in the face with your own telephone.
JON: That explains the black eye. There a reason, or you just felt like it?
EDWARD: I don’t do well when cornered, so I took the necessary action. Kudos on having the last rotary phone in the world, by the way. You may as well have had Grace shout at you through a tin can.
JON: Shut up. And the second time I tried to kill you?
EDWARD: You popped up like a jack o’lantern-in-the-box and cut my cane in half with that damn scythe when I was defending myself, so thanks for that.
JON: I remember that. Pieces of it, anyway.
EDWARD: Pieces. Yes. Like my cane.
JON: Don’t tell me you can’t afford a new one.
EDWARD: Well, no. But that one was special.
JON: You want me to offer to replace it? That what you’re gettin’ at?
EDWARD: God, no. You couldn’t afford a bamboo switch, let alone a cane.
JON: (laugh) Fuck off. I remember you were fightin’ for Harley. What happened to her?
EDWARD: Merely a mild choking.
JON: What d’you call mild?
EDWARD: I intervened before you managed to crush her windpipe.
JON: Why’d she get so close?
EDWARD: She believed she could help you.
JON: (sighs) That kid.
EDWARD: She seemed perfectly willing to die. Funny, that. I can’t say you inspire me to throw myself in harm’s way.
JON: Pity.
(pause)
EDWARD: You didn’t hurt her, Jon. She and Joker call that ‘foreplay’.
JON: Thought they were more about playin’ Doctors and Nurses. You saw that?
EDWARD: (sighs) Yes. When I was held captive by them for that delightful couple of weeks, well... let’s just say I know for certain that they have absolutely no shame. Like cats in heat. I never wished for a spray bottle so much in my life.
JON: (snickers) Talkin’ of him, am I gonna have trouble with Joker, now?
EDWARD: Oh no, you messed him up well in advance.
JON: How d’you mean?
EDWARD: He bumped into you when you weren’t in a terribly receptive mood; the clown’s lucky to be alive.
JON: Huh. I s’pose that’s somethin’.
EDWARD: Indeed.
JON: And the next time I tried to kill you?
EDWARD: That was just before we managed to stop Scarecrow. You tried to kill me, and Harvey.
JON: You and Harvey?
EDWARD: (sighs) Not my choice.
JON: How’d I do?
EDWARD: Well, you were never one for multitasking. You inevitably failed to get the speedy results you were seeking, and then you dosed us with toxin - as is your perverse little wont.
JON: Did Harv get out?
EDWARD: No. I figured you could have pieced that together, since you’re still alive.
JON: Fair point.
EDWARD: Regardless, I couldn’t risk that happening again. I shoved Janus out of the way and took the hit myself, for what good it did me.
JON: … What did you see?
EDWARD: I’m not telling you.
JON: Why not?
EDWARD: Must you be so interested in my dirty laundry? I’m allowed some secrets.
JON: (miffed) Hmph. You know, I am your therapist.
EDWARD: (amused) You’re pulling out that card?
JON: You don’t know what’s good for you, I’m the judge of that.
EDWARD: Despite this situation being one I’m paying for, we’re not in session, doctor.
JON: So?
EDWARD: So I’m not telling you. End of story.
(pause)
JON: Am I... supposed to say that I’m sorry?
EDWARD: What?
JON: I’m not good at this. But it seems like a place I’m supposed to apologise.
EDWARD: What are you playing at?
JON: This isn’t some trick. I did try to kill you. Several times.
EDWARD: It wasn’t you. I mean it was, but - it wasn’t. Besides, like Harley said. What’s a few near-death experiences between friends?
JON: Yeah, but… is that not the thing people do?
EDWARD: You’re the therapist. Don’t you know?
JON: (shrug) I’m more the information-gathering type.
EDWARD: Pretending to listen while wrestling with a formula on your notepad?
JON: You know me far too well.
EDWARD: I do indeed. (claps hands together) Alrighty Jon, let’s gather some information.
JON: Alright.
EDWARD: Let’s see. So far, I’ve driven from Gotham to Georgia to dig you up, with the pleasant company of Waylon to keep me sane during those long hours on the road.
JON: Yeah.
EDWARD: When I knocked at your door, you rudely attempted to shoot me in the face.
JON: (chuckles) Yeah.
EDWARD: I took several potshots from your drunken ass before Waylon trussed you up like a Thanksgiving turkey, tossed you over his shoulder, and strapped you into my car.
JON: (grunt) Hm.
EDWARD: I offered to feed you, which subsequently opened the floodgates to your ordering the whole kitchen.
JON: Yeah.
EDWARD: Also, I have been and will continue to pay for everything along the way, because I am a gracious host. And because only I can keep me in the manner to which I am accustomed.
JON: Mm.
EDWARD: I’ve also put up with your… musk, which - good God, man. I need a shower just from being around you. You’re going to need about eight baths. The first two should be only boiling water and carbolic soap.
JON: Shut up. (scratching his face) I’ll get to it.
EDWARD: Now consider this next question seriously. Does that sound like the behaviour of someone, someone like me, who’s waiting for an apology?
JON: (small laugh) Well. No. You being you, I’d have seen a pink fit by now if you were actually put out by all this.
EDWARD: Hm. It’s all so much water under so many bridges Jon, you have no idea. There are more pressing matters to consider than the trifling old ‘who tried to kill whom’.
JON: Sounds like Deputy Mayor talk. That mean you’re writin’ this up to expenses?
EDWARD: I could. But I prefer to keep this is unconnected to City Hall.
JON: I take that to mean you’re plannin’ on somethin’ more... extracurricular?
EDWARD: It’s simply best to plan for every contingency, I find.
JON: What -
DORIS: Here you go, boys.
EDWARD: (delight) Oh look, the table isn’t big enough so they brought yours on a personal buffet cart.
JON: Hm.
EDWARD: Good lord, I feel bad watching this without purchasing a ticket, first. Oh wait! I did. Ringside seat! Every last bite now, Mr. Welles - I’m the one paying for this sideshow attraction. I can’t wait to see the part where you unhinge your jaw.
JON: (half-hearted threat) I’ll unhinge yours, in a minute.
EDWARD: The Comeback Kid strikes out again.
DORIS: And here’s your water, and your new pot of coffee. Enjoy.
JON: Thank you kindly, Doris.
EDWARD: (still chuckling) Thank you, my dear. (She leaves) Well. This looks... edible.
JON: You’re welcome. (deadpan, but joking) You gonna eat that?
EDWARD: Must I stab your hand with my fork, you vaguely humanoid black hole? At least let me try it, first.
(laughing)
Comments
Darlingvalkyrie
Aw man this is one of my favourites for sure :)
Enigmatist
I love the whole interaction haha. Welcome back Codot!
