Oswald immediately punches a hole in a wall, hand going through concrete, knuckles bared to the bone, bleeding, watching Miss Gravy make such declarations, speaking at basically a projection of her.

"YOU DID NOT SIGN PETER FUCKING GILMOUR! You're going way above your station, Graves! Do I need to remind you of who the FUCK I am and why B. O. B. is so fucking successful and can buy any goddamn contract at will?"

He pulls back his hand, as his shadowy servants tend to his wounds, the muscles and nerves making his hand twitch and shake as another servant fixes his suit and tie.

Once he is tended to, he composes himself, and she can see him appear in front of him, with black smoke swirling out from his very skin and the fiber of his clothing.

"You are to stop your shit, now. Without my money, you'd be sitting in shit and piss at some terrible fucking hotel and not a goddamn person would choose to join B. O. B.

Without me, without MY MONEY that you're spending so frivolously on signing people to our group, we wouldn't be the dominant force we are today. You think Robbie would've joined without me bankrolling this? Without me to make you and B. O. B. in general look good, you and Fury would be hat in hand, fucking up time and time again.

Until we have a full discussion, all of the money I am willing to spend on signing people, is pulled. All the fucking funding.

We're going to have a long and lengthy discussion about your place in this group, Miss Fury, and it will not be a discussion you will enjoy."