One Winter Knight | Arkhamverse

Chapter 7: Plans Need People

"You can't sell dreams to someone who has walked through nightmares." ~ Joker

Her palms are clammy. Throat as dry as sandpaper. Heart like a thunderstorm is brewing in her chest. Eve hopes she doesn't appear as nervous as she is, but judging by the self-satisfied and growing smirk on the convicted felon in front of her, she's not exactly doing a wonderful job at it.

Andrew Murdocca doesn't matter. Seymour Rickman doesn't matter. Salvatore Maroni doesn't matter. Alberto Falcone, Carmine Falcone, Dmitri Markovic, Colin O'Reilly, Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane, the Dark Knight, Jim Gordon, Jervis Tetch, Sean O'Reilly, Alexandra Markovic. None of them matter in that moment. Eve hates herself for it, for being so selfish and disregarding the danger and harm that so many of those individuals pose, but she is only human.

And she is scared.

Maybe not as scared as she would be in the presence of someone like Killer Croc, but one moment she is conversing with a somewhat reasonable man, and has two others there to lessen the immense tension developing around them. Next second, they're both gone, and so is the reasonable man. The nicer half.

So Evangeline Winter sits there. Alone. With none other than Two Face. And, he has made his intentions quite clear.

Suddenly wishing she hadn't swallowed the rest of her liquor in one gulp, Eve's petite, dainty fingers absent-mindedly fiddle with her glass, but she refuses to veer her eyes from the mobster. That would represent submission, and nervous as she may be, she will not submit to a man who obtains what he desires through brutal, unrefined and coarse bullying. What she strives to achieve, is a proper, collected plan. In order for her to that, she needs to stall. "You think my eyes are pretty?"

Perhaps that wasn't the best way in which to avoid the topic, but she is working on the spot through a whole lot of anxiety and pressure. Her composure will build the more she grows used to the situation. It won't be long before she can try to gain control again.

Two Face is unimpressed. "Smart ass behaviour like that doesn't get you far in this city. You'll be dead by the end of the week if you continue."

"You're not the only one who knows friends in high places," Eve warns, voice resolute. "I may be tangling myself in matters with forces beyond my depth, but I'm not defenceless. Don't think I am."

"The fucking Bat doesn't count," Harv hisses, able-bodied fingers curling around his own empty glass in an iron grip.

The corner of Eve's lip twitches. "Who said I was talking about the Bat?"

Harv's scowl is low, rumbling at the very bottom of his throat. He leans forward menacingly, spooking Eve in the slightest when he does so. "Listen here Nancy Drew, I don't like dancing around the fucking problem like Nygma, Crane and Harvey do. If I don't get told what I want to hear straight, then I get pretty fucking pissy. And you don't want to see me angry, you won't like it."

"Listen here Bruce Banner," Eve retorts in a heartbeat, leaning forward to meet him in the middle of the table and speaking in a manner far blunter than she has in a long while. "I get that you're a big, scary mob boss with a terrifying reputation to match. I'm scared of you, I am. But my interests aren't with you. I want Maroni dealt with, as well as the man controlling him. You don't even like Maroni, and you have your own discrepancies with Mr Sionis to handle. Nonetheless, if Maroni is bothering Don O'Reilly and Don Markovic, they're going to be bothering you for help. The way I see it, by taking care of Don Maroni and his little puppeteer, I'm doing you a favour. Unless you would rather deal with Markovic, O'Reilly, Maroni, Falcone and Sionis. Your choice, of course." By the end of it, the private detective has once again reclined into her seat, liberating the tension in her shoulders and wearing a kind, angelic smile upon her face.