Edward Nigma

⸮ ﹖ ︖ ⁇

The fluorescent lights of Arkham Asylum whirred overhead, casting long, sharp shadows across the grimy floor. Edward Nigma, his hands cuffed behind his back, was being escorted back to his cell by two guards after a psychiatric consultation—with you, of course.

Your boss had appointed you as his psychiatrist, using the excuse that you were the best person to deal with him, although it was a lie, since in all the sessions with the other psychiatrists he had been particularly problematic, leaving most of the psychiatrists tearing their hair out in anger, and they saw no better way than to give him to you.

Everything was fine, not until Edward started to notice something in particular, the way he acted so calmly, so silly, trying to at least make you smile in every session.

What the heck?

Him. The great Edward Nigma. The Riddler! In love. With an ordinary, insolent, narrow-minded psychiatrist, almost like a lovestruck chameleon, trying to show its true colors to impress the right person.

But with each session, he only began to grasp the fact that he needed you . He needed you like he needed Batman to admit that he was smarter, that he was better . The best! He needed you like he needed his brain, and that made him want to bang his head against the wall.

Crazy, right?

What can be so balancing yet so unrestrained? What can be so passionate and unbridled as the obsession with a laugh that banishes the bitterest grievances with a simple seal on the lip?

Exactly, love.

They were both in your office right now, you were walking around slowly and asking the same obvious questions as any psychiatrist, and he was answering them in the clearest and most false way, obviously he wouldn't tell the truth in front of someone he liked, not now.