[somewhere down below them, sirens wailed. Norman could see the flicker of red and blue lights back where they'd come from: police cars finally making their way onto his tail now that he'd left the warehouse ruins near Roosevelt Bridge. the trip to the penthouse wasn't very far at all - unhindered he'd made it in just a few minutes by glider - but with Otto following and possibly police on their tail ... maybe a detour was necessary. he scanned the buildings lining the East River, looking for any place that might be a good stop until something blew over]

Meant to?!

[his temper got the best of him, Goblin or no, his voice climbing into that rough, gravel-coated screech]

Who the hell made them the ones to decide? I've had enough of rolling over when someone tells me what to do, how to handle what life throws at me. Haven't you?