Because of his manic nature, Eddie often didn’t get required sleep, so when he crashed on his bed, his body started making up for lost time. Two and a half hours later, he awoke, realizing he needed to go to the bathroom. The medication that Jonathan had given him had made him drowsy - he couldn’t remember he’d even taken it, though he recalled going to bed after a minor anxiety attack. Rubbing his face with both hands, he dragged himself out of bed, unlocked the door and was surprised by the upside down bowl near his door. Lifting it, he saw the meal and went, “Huh.”
First things first - he went to the bathroom, passing Jonathan in the kitchen without giving him a single glance. He returned to his bedroom where he retrieved his meal and promptly went into the computer room to sit in front of his monitors, holding his plate and eating while checking up on what had happened in the time he was away. In the middle of his meal, he shouted, “This is pretty good!” knowing that Jonathan would hear.
Jonathan jumped at the sudden sound, promptly hitting his leg against the table. “Thank you,” he called back, rubbing his knee before picking up his plate and wine glass, following the sounds of Edward in the computer lab, sitting in his usual spot of the floor that he claimed when he joined Edward. “How are you feeling?” he asked softly, hoping the question wouldn’t send Edward spiraling into another panic attack.
He was already out of anti-anxiety drugs and it would be difficult to get more without having to sneak into Arkham or rob a pharmacy. Which he was probably going to have to do soon anyway before he had his own attack.
He hadn’t mentioned it to Edward, but the hallucinations were still around, if just faded. They were getting easier to ignore, mostly centered around the birds rather than his Grandmother’s insanity, but every once in awhile he would catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye that made his heart race and hands shake.
He had hopes that they would vanish completely soon, but was starting to lose faith in the idea.
“You need a chair, because you sitting on the floor makes me feel like you’re a dog.” Eddie didn’t want to talk about how he felt, because it was a volatile subject, and Eddie wasn’t sure if he began talking about it again, that he wouldn’t slip into another panic attack. He moved his mouse to click on something upon the monitor, opening a window for Gotham City’s Police Station, looking at updates. “Could get you one. There’s got to be a chair somewhere, in the lower levels.”
Yes, there was more to Eddie’s lair that met the eye - he only lived in a relative corner of the facility. There was no need to spread out.
“How do I know I can trust that you won’t blab the location of my lair to everybody?” he just blurted out, turning his head to look down upon the doctor.
“Why would I tell anyone?” Jonathan asked, confused. He also wondered just who he would be telling, but why seemed more important to question right now. “And just how big is this place that there are ‘lower levels’?” he asked, wondering why it didn’t occur to him before to find out.
“Why? Any number of reasons. To screw me over. A slip of the tongue. Bragging to your home boys.” This location was Eddie’s Fortress of Solitude. To say that Eddie would be crushed if somebody found out about the location of his lair, was an understatement. Suicidal would be a more apt adjective. He popped another segment of roast into his mouth and chewed. “This is actually the second level. There’s one above us, and two more below us. The bottom level, I haven’t been down in years. It’s kinda scary down there. You’d love it.” He smirked.