ROGUES | S01E12: State Lines (interior of Edward’s car) EDWARD: What I’m saying is, now that I’ve had time to think about it, I’ve realised that I don’t get nightmares. JON: Don’t look at me. EDWARD: If etiquette did not dictate that I had to, I wouldn’t. JON: You never get nightmares? EDWARD: Nope. I sleep like a baby; a side benefit of a clear conscience. JON: (snorts) EDWARD: You did something to me while I was sleeping, didn’t you? JON: Don’t you trust me? EDWARD: Not with that “who, me?” smirk spread across your face like congealed butter. JON: Maybe you ate too much ice cream before bed. EDWARD: Oh, ho ho. An old wives’ tale. Delightful. You’re making fun of me, aren’t you? JON: Wouldn’t dream of it. EDWARD: You’re not funny. You think you are, but you’re not. JON: Bitch, I’m hilarious. EDWARD: (shocked laugh) JON: Y’see? EDWARD: What do you know - you do still have the capacity to surprise me. JON: Wonders never cease. Neither does this damn music. (changes the station) EDWARD: Hey! (turns it back) JON: This is giving me a headache. (changes it) EDWARD: That’ll be your brain, rattling around your cranium like Pong. (changes it) JON: How d’you even get these stations out here? (changes it) EDWARD: (changes it) I modded it, like I mod everything. JON: Still sucks. (changes it) And sucks too loud. EDWARD: What do you know about music? (changes it) You have a snore that sounds like a toothless chainsaw lodged in a California redwood. JON: What has that got to do with anythin’? (changes it) EDWARD: It proves that you’re tone deaf. (changes it) Even when you’re asleep. JON: Well, you snore like someone who has a flute jammed up their nose. (changes it) EDWARD: That’ll be the broken nose I got, Jon - you remember that? (changes it) JON: (laughs) I remember it shut you up for a while. (changes it) EDWARD: You’re all bleeding heart, Doctor. (changes it) JON: Should see my bedside manner. (changes it) EDWARD: Last seen on a milk carton somewhere in Sarasota. (changes it) JON: You don’t stop touchin’ it, you’re gonna break it. (changes it) EDWARD: (snickers) That’s just what the school nurse used to tell you. (changes it) JON: My last nurse told me it ain’t a flag; let it touch the ground. (changes it) EDWARD: (laughs) That’s twice! Two jokes in as many minutes! Who are you, and what did you do with Jonathan Crane? (changes it) JON: Drank him to death. (chuckles, turns it off) Off, then. When did you get so dang stubborn? EDWARD: It was you, alright?! I learned it by watching you! (laugh) (pause) JON: So you gonna tell me why the road back to Gotham involves drivin’ in the exact opposite direction? EDWARD: Oh, so you noticed. JON: Noticed in Tennessee, when my brain started workin’ again. EDWARD: I wondered how long it would take; (sarcastic) your powers of observation are astounding. You never thought to ask until now? JON: Figured you’d avoid the question. I like the open road, so it’s not like I really care. EDWARD: Hm. I should stop for gas, soon; see if there’s any place worth eating at around here. I fear I haven’t eaten well since Virginia. JON: Y’know, I could take a turn at driving, you want a rest. EDWARD: Not bloody likely, leadfoot. JON: You sure? I could really open this baby up. EDWARD: Not a chance. Besides, I got the seat the way I like. You’ll wreck that with your freakishly long legs. JON: You sure you’re even comfortable driving? EDWARD: I’m perfectly capable, thank you. JON: That why I see you twitchin’ your head like you remembered you’re driving? EDWARD: … It’s still not what I’d call a necessary skill. On the bright side, I haven’t plowed us into a ditch, yet. JON: Hm. Give it time. EDWARD: You know, Q and E make this car look much easier to handle than it is. JON: I’m sure they’d teach you. EDWARD: They’re already paid quite enough to laugh at me, thank you. JON: (chuckles) EDWARD: Typically I have work to do. Flatfoots tend to frown upon distracted driving. JON: Can’t imagine why. EDWARD: Surely the ability to multitask should be admired. JON: You’d think. Hey - since you spend most of your time locked in the trunk, did you recognise the front seat, when you saw it? EDWARD: Ha, ha. JON: What you do back there - your Houdini impression? EDWARD: Perish needlessly from appendicitis and peritonitis? No. JON: I could punch you in the gut to find out. EDWARD: Hands off. Fact is, I do my BeeGee impression. JON: What? EDWARD: Stayin’ alive? Q and E saving my skin ensures that Boss Man here lives to cut another fat cheque. JON: The system works, then. EDWARD: You bet your ass it does. (pause) JON: We’re going to Duluth, ain’t we? EDWARD: (vaguely impressed huff) Good guess. JON: Only thing I don’t know is why. EDWARD: Well, I’ll tell you. (siren) EDWARD: Oh, for pity’s sake. JON: You been speedin’? EDWARD: Nope. (irritated sigh) This is the last thing I need. What does this idiot want? JON: Pull over and find out, genius. EDWARD: If I must. (pulls over, kills the engine) EDWARD: Alright. Be nice. JON: The hell for? EDWARD: You’re not the deputy mayor of Gotham driving across state lines with a wanted fugitive riding shotgun. JON: Don’t think I have any warrants out in Minnesota. EDWARD: You sure about that? JON: Wait - yes. Yes, I do. (snickers) EDWARD: Do you remember what it was for? JON: If memory serves… EDWARD: Tipping it might encourage it to come back. JON: Babe the Blue Ox sprung a leak and started sprayin’ toxin everywhere. Somehow. EDWARD: … Bemidji? JON: You got it. EDWARD: (chuckles) What a colourful life you lead. Forget being nice, just be silent. JON: Alright, if you don’t babble. EDWARD: Excuse me? JON: You gush like a spotlit actress. EDWARD: Fuck off, that’s only when I’m caught off guard. JON: Cops don’t scare you? EDWARD: (snorts) Please. JON: Hm. … We could kill him. EDWARD: Could we now? JON: Yeah. Ditch his bloated body to the side of the road and the whims of the vultures. EDWARD: (deadpan) You know how tingly I get when you come over all homicidal. JON : (snorts) Shut up. You’re thinkin’ about it, ain’t you? EDWARD: (chuckles) Yes, I am. Deserted highway. I don’t see a camera. Maybe... but let’s see what he wants, first. Directly fighting the law is difficult to come out of clean. JON: Mm. (pause) JON: (singing) Breakin’ rocks in the hot sun… (EDWARD joins in) I fought the law, and the law won; I fought the law, and the law won. BOTH: (snickering) EDWARD: Finally, you show some taste. JON: Took the words right outta my mouth. EDWARD: Showtime. Shh. COP: Good afternoon, young fella. EDWARD: Help you, officer? COP: Where you off to this fine day? (pause) EDWARD: Passing through. Problem? COP: Well, I don’t pull folks over for my health, son. EDWARD: … No. I imagine you don’t. COP: License and registration, son. (pause) EDWARD: (impatient noise; rustling) Here. (pause) COP: ‘Fraid I’m gonna hafta - (reads) Wait. You’re - EDWARD: Yes? COP: You’re Eddie Nashton. Jackie’s boy. (pause) EDWARD: (tight smile) So he says. COP: Haven’t seen you out this way since, (exhales) dang, I don’t even know. EDWARD: (under his breath) Not long enough. COP: (looks) Who’s yer friend? (pause) EDWARD: Who? COP: Feller right there. EDWARD: No one. COP: Oh yah? Looks like someone to me. What’s your name, friend? EDWARD: He doesn’t talk. COP: No? (pause) EDWARD: Dumb as a post. COP: Oh yah? (pause) EDWARD: Like I said, we’re just passing through. So if you could - COP: Hold your horses there, son. EDWARD: Sure. Interrupt me. (deep breath) What is it? COP: You got expired tags on ya. (pause) EDWARD: Of course I do. COP: So you see I can’t just let you go. (pause) EDWARD: Oh no? COP: No. Expired tags, ya see. (pause) EDWARD: (talking to himself) Someone will suffer for that. COP: Whassat, son? EDWARD: (turns) I said I have someone for that. COP: But you still got expired tags, eh? (pause; EDWARD lowers his glasses and pinches his nose; frustrated exhale) (JON starts to whistle TGTB&TU theme under his breath) COP: Funny. He can’t talk, but he can whistle. (pause) EDWARD: Redefines the word dumb. (pause) COP: Still, I bet you got a lot on your mind, eh? EDWARD: Ohh, you have no idea. COP: Here to see Jackie. Tags slipped your mind? EDWARD: (temporarily wrong-footed) See - what? COP: Your pops. Taken a turn for the worse. EDWARD: Wait a moment. I remember. You’re… Ted Peterson, yes? COP: That’s some memory on you, son. Can’t have met me more than a couple times. EDWARD: Exactly twice. COP: You were just a kid when I saw you last. Bright as a button. EDWARD: So people said. COP: Dunno why I didn’t see it soon as l clapped eyes on ya. Pretty like your ma with Jackie’s red hair - that there’s Eddie Nashton, through and through. (irritated grunt from EDWARD; low laugh from JON) COP: Oh see, now, now he laughs. He’s not dumb at all. EDWARD: Dumb as they come, and getting dumber. You were saying? COP: Yer pops got taken in to St. Joseph’s. Could be any day now, they say. EDWARD: They say that, do they? COP: Ahyup. So you’re ‘round this way to come see him, right? EDWARD: Mercy dash to see dear old Dad one last time, that’s what I’m doing. All other thoughts - whoosh - out the window. (flat) Forget my own head next, boy howdy. COP: You’re a good boy. Well - I’ll let ya off with a warning then. You go see your Dad. But be sure to renew those tags, little Nashton. EDWARD: Oh, you betcha. First chance I get. COP: Give ‘im my regards. EDWARD: Right. COP: Take care now. And see to those tags. (COP leaves and drives away; pause as EDWARD squeezes the wheel) JON: That was interestin’. EDWARD: Fascinating. JON: (scoff) What a good boy you are. I reckon yeh gave me diabetes. EDWARD: Cholesterol will get you first. JON: I’ll take a bullet, instead. EDWARD: That can be arranged. For pity’s sake - when we left Georgia, we drove for hours and you never said a word. Now, when I want you to be quiet, you can’t keep your trap shut. JON: Me and cops don’t mix. EDWARD: I should be grateful you didn’t think him a new test subject. JON: Meh. Cops are all afraid of the same thing. (pause) JON: Were you really going to Duluth to see your father? EDWARD: No, I wasn’t. I was going to drive by the old house. Check up on a couple things. JON: Now you got to, right? EDWARD: Mm. I feel compelled to see the old ogre before he kicks his bucket. JON: You know where this hospital is at? EDWARD: I got into enough ‘scuffles’ as a kid to know the way there blindfolded. JON: What was it called, again? EDWARD: St. Joseph’s. JON: I’m a little rusty on my saints, but - EDWARD: Yeah. Patron Saint of the happy death. JON: That’s some name. EDWARD: Social realism at its finest. Should I go see my father, it would be malapropos. JON: This could be good for you, you know - get some closure. EDWARD: You can fuck right off with that psychobabble bullshit - you killed your father. JON: I never laid a hand on him. EDWARD: No. You didn’t have to, did you? JON: (chuckles) I was there when he died. EDWARD: Come on. I know you did it, just admit it. JON: Alright - he died because of me. Can’t say it wasn’t closure. EDWARD: Now that I know his end is imminent, I wish I’d put the old man down myself. JON: Not too late. (pause) EDWARD: You ever regret it? (pause) JON: Nope. Sure as hell love to do it again. EDWARD: Now that’s what I want to hear. (pause) (EDWARD starts the car) EDWARD: Speaking of… that flatfoot reminded me of something. I have one place I’d like to visit, before I darken Daddy’s doorway. JON: It’s your dime. Drive on, young Eddie. EDWARD: Shut your face, unless you actually want to be struck dumb. JON: Hm. (pause) EDWARD: (singing) Robbin’ people with a six-gun, (JON joins in) I fought the law and the law won, I fought the law and the law won...