Personal Business 5.3

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Ok, so I am feeling inspired today and am probably just going to finish this episode either in the next couple chapters and will probably end up doing a double upload when I do, if I remember or I will just put it all into this one so it might be a bit longer than the others. I'll probably forget all about this note and that I said I'd do a double upload so if I end up doing the former and I do forget, just spam this chapter and I will remember. I'm gonna do it like this because I am actually really excited about the next episode.

Anyway, onto the story...

Third Person POV

After complying with a man called Frankie about going with him to talk about a certain snitch called Oswald Cobblepot, Jim was sat in the back of a car with a bag over his head. Criminals are just so dramatic!

The journey to wherever they were heading wasn't a long one and before he knew it, Jim was being moved into a building, bag still on his head, and shoved into a seat.

He couldn't see anything and the only thing he could currently hear was the cracking of... was that a shell? Why could he hear shells cracking? Gotham was nowhere near a decent beach; well, not that Jim knew of.

The answer to his question was revealed when the bag was tugged off his head and his eyes blurred slightly at the sudden exposure to daylight.

When his vision finally came back, Jim looked forward and saw Don Maroni sitting there, napkin tucked in his shirt, casually eating a whole lobster. To the left of Maroni was a certain bloodied-up, sheepish looking Cobblepot and behind them were two stern looking bodyguard type men (one of them being the guy Jim had left with, Frankie).

A few agonisingly awkward moments later, Maroni finally put down the lobster shell he had been cracking and looked up at Jim, a look of intrigue on his face.

"Welcome. I'm Salvatore Maroni," Maroni introduced, you know, just in case Jim had no idea who the second biggest mobster in Gotham was.

"I know who you are," Jim assured him. "What do you want?"

"Here's the thing—" Maroni began, but Cobblepot interrupted him, looking straight over at Jim.

"Jim, just tell him the truth."

Maroni sent him a deadly glare, a glare so strong that if looks could kill, Cobblepot would be ten feet underground already.

"You want a drink, Jim?" Maroni casually offered, tearing his glare away from Cobblepot, all emotions leaving his face. "I'm having a Negroni. So good with seafood."

"Water," Jim replied blankly, hoping to get this whole situation over with.

With a click of his fingers, Jim had a fresh glass of water in front of him within seconds. Guess that is one benefit of being a mobster. Servants. 

"So our friend here told me a fascinating story. Never heard a story so good. It's hard to believe it's true," Maroni admitted.

"It is, it's true," Cobblepot begged him.

"Shut up! Shut up!" Maroni yelled at Cobblepot angrily before he picked up the lobster claw he was going to eat and wagged it aggressively at him. "One more word, and I'll jam this down your throat. I try to be civil, Jim." He chucked the lobster onto the table and wiped his hands on his napkin, turning back to face Jim. "But I'm not the kind of man that likes to ask twice. So here's how it's gonna go."

"Slow down, Mr. Maroni," Jim requested calmly. "I don't know you—"

"No, no, no. You let me finish. You'll have your turn to speak," Maroni interrupted, noticing the glance that Jim and Cobblepot shared. "Okay, then. I want you to tell me the same exact story that Penguin told me."

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