This is one of the reasons Oswald likes dealing with Silco: he's not a moron.
In quieter spaces, or agitated ones, Oswald makes no particular secret that idiocy is something he needs to tolerate by virtue of its abundance and unfortunate often accidental proximity to those in power, but that doesn't mean he likes being subjected to it.
It's always refreshing, even in fraught circumstances, to deal with someone who can swiftly pick up what Oswald is putting down, quite literally in this case. It makes the whole thing go a lot more smoothly.
Straightening his back into the chair, Oswald sucks a breath through his teeth and casts his eyes briefly skyward, a faux display like he's trying to recall specifics.
"A generous number of components parts, all of which I'm sure have already been squirreled away and put to good use," he extends one arm outward in exaggerated half-shrug, "After all, we are all well aware about her proclivities, aren't we? Oh, and then there's the three ransacked casements of ammunition, the manpower I'm going to need to replace, the repairs to the wall, and--"
Pause for dramatic effect as he leans in, brows raised and lips sucked in like he's reluctant to share the final inventory note. He isn't.
"--a rocket-propelled grenade that was already spoken for."
With his hands cupping the top of his cane now so the tips of his fingertips can lightly bounce off the other, a wide, tight-lipped smile breaks across Oswald's face as a soft chuckle vibrates in his throat along with a few bobbing nods of his head.
no subject
In quieter spaces, or agitated ones, Oswald makes no particular secret that idiocy is something he needs to tolerate by virtue of its abundance and unfortunate often accidental proximity to those in power, but that doesn't mean he likes being subjected to it.
It's always refreshing, even in fraught circumstances, to deal with someone who can swiftly pick up what Oswald is putting down, quite literally in this case. It makes the whole thing go a lot more smoothly.
Straightening his back into the chair, Oswald sucks a breath through his teeth and casts his eyes briefly skyward, a faux display like he's trying to recall specifics.
"A generous number of components parts, all of which I'm sure have already been squirreled away and put to good use," he extends one arm outward in exaggerated half-shrug, "After all, we are all well aware about her proclivities, aren't we? Oh, and then there's the three ransacked casements of ammunition, the manpower I'm going to need to replace, the repairs to the wall, and--"
Pause for dramatic effect as he leans in, brows raised and lips sucked in like he's reluctant to share the final inventory note. He isn't.
"--a rocket-propelled grenade that was already spoken for."
With his hands cupping the top of his cane now so the tips of his fingertips can lightly bounce off the other, a wide, tight-lipped smile breaks across Oswald's face as a soft chuckle vibrates in his throat along with a few bobbing nods of his head.
"Quite the scamp, isn't she?"