WAYLON: Sorry ta hafta do this, Jonny. JON: … EDWARD: (smirking) Now Jon, sulking is unbecoming. WAYLON: He mad; he don’t got the words yet. I get it. EDWARD: Alright, let’s get him in the car, Waylon. WAYLON: You got it, Eddie. Front seat or back? EDWARD: Back. (opens the door) Ugh. With the window open to air him out. In you go, Jon. WAYLON: Eddie was right, Jonboy - you sure a mean drunk. EDWARD: Yep. Told you. WAYLON: You must be made o’ some bulletproof stuff, Eddie. EDWARD: (chuckles) Something like that. WAYLON: But you got the right to be mad, Jonboy - after what you bin through. EDWARD: (tactful shushing) We’ll get to that later. (WAYLON puts JON in the back seat) EDWARD: (clicking) Seatbelts! (snickers) Safety first, Jon. JON: (snarls) WAYLON: Sorry ‘bout this. Yeh know ol’ Waylon don’t wanna hurt ya. JON: … WAYLON: But Waylon don’t wanna see ya kill yaself, neither. JON: … WAYLON: Ya too important to lose. Even iffen ya don’t think so. Waylon thinks so. JON: ... WAYLON: Ya don’t wanna talk, dat’s okay. Take all the time ya want. JON: (sighs) EDWARD: Waylon - would you be willing to drive Jon’s truck back to Gotham City? WAYLON: Yah, I can do dat. Got a stop to make anyhow.. See ya back in Gotham, Jonboy. (claps JON on the shoulder) Ya know where ta find ol’ Waylon. JON: (sighs) EDWARD: Knowing Jon, the keys will still be in the ignition. WAYLON: Already grabbed ‘em.. EDWARD: Always a step ahead. (rustling notes) I assume you know about that broken fuel gauge of his? WAYLON: Heh, yeah. Had ta push it a couple times. EDWARD: Then here’s some cash. Better make sure the truck’s always full of gas. Oh, and here - don’t want to forget your books. WAYLON: Thank ya, Eddie. You gonna be okay with Jonny? EDWARD: (laughs) Oh yeah. He can stay in that jacket until he sobers up and feels less like strangling me. JON: (scoffs) EDWARD: So possibly forever. We’d best be on our way, though - we have a long journey ahead. I must say, it’s been an absolute pleasure to travel with you, Waylon. WAYLON: You too, Eddie. It’s bin a lotta fun. EDWARD: Have a safe trip back; we’ll see you in Gotham City. WAYLON: Fer sure. See ya, Eddie. Bye, Jonny. JON: (grunts) (car starts, interior car noise as they drive; pause) (JON says nothing; sulking with rage) EDWARD: Soooo... how’ve you been? What’s new? JON: … EDWARD: Me? Oh, I’m fine. Deputy Mayor Nygma, installed in the City Hall of Mayor Cobblepot. My own office, and everything. Not bad for a convicted felon and court-certified lunatic. (snickers) JON: … EDWARD: People talk of inmates running the asylum… well, now the inmates are running the city. (laughs) People must be so happy, being deluded, Jon. I mean if they weren’t, they’d be terrified. Common sense would dictate that it be so. JON: … EDWARD: Now why am I really here? Good question! Oswald sent me to fetch you. Practically a royal decree, for a peasant like you. JON: … EDWARD: I was content to let you stew in your miserable juices until we could clear your name and then you could just come back whenever you wanted. But, Oswald wants you back in Gotham sooner than I expected - and one doesn’t refuse the Mayor his request. You’re going to be a part of an exciting new development we’re setting up for Arkham Asylum. JON: … EDWARD: After the lockdown, security was at the forefront of people’s concerns. But not to worry, Jon. It’s all in hand. Measures are being taken, progress is being made. JON: … EDWARD: The only irksome wrench in the works is Amanda Waller, who’s been sniffing around. She took the foolish step to personally annoy Oswald, so I doubt she’ll be a problem for long. JON: … EDWARD: … Nothing, huh? Just going to sulk the whole trip home? We’ve got a long way to go, Jon - and I can talk the whole time by myself, if I have to. You know I can. JON: ... EDWARD: Pity - you had quite a bar to live up to, you know. I was rather hoping you’d rise to the challenge. Waylon has been the most delightful company on our little trip down South. (laughs) Conversationally, you’re not fit to shine his shoes. JON: … EDWARD: Though I suppose it would be a fool’s errand to describe you as delightful in any capacity. JON: … EDWARD: More like a long streak of sour piss and vinegar. JON: … EDWARD: It’s also lovely to see that you’ve let yourself go completely to seed. I could loan you a razor, if you like - but only because I don’t have a weed whacker. You look like you’ve been lost in the wilderness for a month, or like one of those frightfully hip people I see in coffee shops. JON: … EDWARD: It’s the flannel shirt that truly sells the look. Should you start espousing the wonders of Bikram yoga and gluten-free diets, I will shoot you. JON: … EDWARD: Though I suppose it would help with staying unrecognised; there’s a thought I hadn’t considered. (pause) EDWARD: (musing) Hm. You know Jon, as Thomas Wolfe once wrote, you can’t go back home to the escapes of Time and Memory. In your case, you absolutely shouldn’t. Georgia’s no good for you, Jon - she treats you like shit. JON: … EDWARD: Although I may be being a trifle unfair - perhaps it’s more the fault of your lousy coping mechanisms, rather than the culpability of an entire state. JON: ... EDWARD: But hey. This can’t be first time you’ve been dragged out of town in a straitjacket, huh? (laughs) JON: … EDWARD: (laugh peters off) Oh, this is going to be a long drive. (turns on the radio) [EXT. CRANE FARM - MOMENTS LATER] SLADE: Anything in the barn? DIGGER: Wall-to-wall vomit and broken glass. (sniffle) Reminded me of home. (SLADE dials out) SLADE: Put Waller on. (sighs) Son, I have been in a truck with George Harkness for the last 72 hours... DIGGER: Hey! SLADE: (cont'd) So when I say put Waller on, I mean RIGHT FUCKING NOW. (pause) Waller - Wilson. You were too late. Signs of a struggle. Mmhmm. Someone's got him. DIGGER: Slade! SLADE: Huh? DIGGER: Look. SLADE: Tracks. We got something. We'll update ASAP.