"I can always think well," Edward said honestly, while leaving out what he didn't even know how to explain. Under stress, under duress, yes, sometimes the split could occur. But him and the Riddler were on the same page these days. Edward was the Riddler, the Riddler was Edward. He looked at Jonathan Crane, trying to guess at what chemicals someone like that would want to expose him to.

Trying to decide whether he had anything left to lose. "I self-medicate when I want to enhance my mind. Or to control it. Or just for a lark, honestly." He shrugged. "If you think you can figure me out, be my guest. It's not a riddle I've solved yet. I'm the smartest man in Gotham and I couldn't tell you much about myself. Maybe try the second-smartest man in Gotham. He's annoyingly quick on the uptake when it comes to that."