Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-5490216-20140918195527/@comment-5490216-20140921221841

As James stayed unconscious, his mind was still formulating his predicament with Leanne. The kidnapping was merely a setback for him.

In his mind palace, Sterling James was looking through volumes pertaining to Leanne's emotions; a book on her egomania, her intellect, her haughtiness, her temper, her biography. What James could not quite read was Leanne's love.

"You can see she loves you," the figure of Revan MacLeod said to him, sitting on a nightstand. "And you love her."

"Yes, I do," James answered, frustratedly. "But I still can't understand how it pertains to her running away, her depression..."

"Read 'Intellect'."

"IQ scores are irrelevant. Were practically equal in intelligence. Relatively speaking. I have the upper hand in experience is all."

"But she still isn't happy, somehow."

"How? I love her, read her stories like when we were young, even give her signs of affection every morning and night, like how a normal couple does."

"But wha' abou' on tha job, stuff?"

"Well the same as always. Pick out small important details, piece them with the bigger ones, look clever--"

"Make everyone else around you look inferior in smarts."

"Well I suppose, but-- What did you say?"

"Make everyone around you feel inferior."

"Well only because I am smarter than everyone else."

"You always make a point to do that. 'Specially wit' me. I was just the assistant muscle guy."

"So?"

"Is Leanne me?"

"Of course... not."

"'Nae'. Didnae think so."

"Then... Leanne must feel terrible when we're on a case."

"Aye. Wha's tha abou' bein' equals, again?"

"Good Lord, you're right..."

"Am I now? The crazy roommate wit' a sword? Ye're tha brilliant one. Yer brain."

"I need to know what's become of me..."

"Then it's time fer a wake up call."

Revan came up to James and punched him in the jaw. This translated into real pain and forced his eyes to open to a dark room with a light shining down on only him. Taking in deep breath, he caught not only the undeniable scent of old, dried up blood, but also the faint scent of cocktails and cigarette smoke.

Holmes looked up to see who punched him; a burly man in a big suit. With him, an entourage of four. Obviously all gangsters.

"Well... Even in prison, Mr. Marcone has his thumb on his organization..." he stated weakly.

James was apparently relieved of his coat, which held his phone and Electrostatic Lockpick. He did not mind the obvious threat of future torture, only if Leanne was alright and whether or not she would be sentimental enough to try and find him. Hopefully with her Huntress training in mind and her detective's intellect and his computers at home.