Miaomiao and Penguin did not talk for long.
After all, from their species and ages to their outlooks and life experiences, they had absolutely nothing in common.
Miaomiao could not volunteer an explanation of her hidden identity, and Oswald would not expose his scars to a girl who was still something of a stranger.
Miaomiao could not relate to Oswald's childhood loneliness, nor could she understand why, despite his lofty position, he still had to rely on elegant clothes and ruthless methods to barely preserve his pitiful self-esteem.
Yet, strangely enough, their conversation was harmonious.
Miaomiao did not understand land-dwelling humans' tangled thoughts and schemes, nor did she care about Gotham's complicated relationships and entangled interests. However powerful she was, her heart remained as pure and innocent as a child's, untouched by anything filthy.
She was different from Gotham.
Oswald realized that with absolute clarity.
Gotham was dark, forever shrouded in clouds and fog.
That was especially true for Oswald, who had clawed his way up to his current position, one step at a time.
Even two people who had once been the closest of friends, smiling face-to-face and embracing with utter affection, might reveal a dagger hidden behind their backs the very next second.
The only thing that never changed in Gotham was that nothing lasted forever.
Faced with this girl who wore every thought plainly on her face, Oswald made the rare choice to shed his ever-present cloak of affected hypocrisy, along with all the convoluted maneuvering he used to achieve his goals.
For once, they truly just talked about Gotham's weather, the food at the Iceberg Lounge, and different people's eating habits.
Oswald seemed to understand why Killer Croc, always a violent, uncompromising loner, would put away all his fangs and fury in front of a little