Cobblepot was no longer young. He had grown ever further from the image Schiller had first seen of him: a skinny little umbrella boy.
Because he had found stable work in his teenage years and never lacked food or drink while following the Falcone family, Cobblepot's growth had not been delayed. He had smoothly grown to six feet tall. Though he was nowhere near as broad-framed as those hulking giants, he at least looked like a normal person now, no longer short and fat.
Because his temperament was less gloomy, his hooked nose was no longer so conspicuous. Instead, people were more likely to notice his steady, resolute gaze.
If one had to describe his appearance, it was simply ordinary: average height, average features, average clothes—the sort of person who disappeared into a crowd.
But that image had its advantages as well. It made him seem more down-to-earth while running for mayor. With the economy in poor shape, everyone needed a mayor who could understand people at the bottom, and Cobblepot had a considerable advantage in that regard.
The only concern was his gangster background. He did not avoid the subject himself, and many people in the city who wanted to completely sever ties with the past believed Cobblepot might drag the city back into the abyss of organized crime.
But overall, Cobblepot still held the advantage. If things continued like this, he had a very good chance of becoming mayor.
Yet while there were no threats from without, there were troubles within. Cobblepot's mother was entirely opposed to his mayoral campaign. After hearing Cobblepot's account, Schiller wrote on the notebook in his hand: "Persecutory tendencies, excessive imagination, and some Anxiety Disorder."
"This is also a common problem after a schizophrenic patient recovers," Schiller said. "A mind that was once