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[luckyfooted]

[Assuring himself of this fact one more time:] I can't be dead.

[Needless to say, Barnaby is noooot pleased to be here. Wherever here is. He last remembers his apartment, and the rough feeling of the cold floor pressed against his skin as he tried to get his cell phone. He remembers pain, from his side, after the fight--did he break a rib?--and

Comments

[sqrootofallevil]

[in response to Barnaby's idle query...]

What do the facts tell you.

[it's some guy in a suit, smoking]

[luckyfooted]

[Barnaby's brisk walking just brings him closer to the individual, and he stares, eyes narrow. Facts? Dear chap, you are suspicious as hell.]

Are you the one who brought me here?

[sqrootofallevil]

[me, suspicious?

okay, that's fair.

he looks sincerely entertained for a moment.]

This isn't the kind of hell I would make.

[luckyfooted]

The kind of hell you would make? So I'm guessing you're not in charge here, then.

[But that means he might be good for information! Barnaby takes a step closer.]

[sqrootofallevil]

Only guessing? But you would be correct.

[luckyfooted]

Benefit of the doubt. Do you know where we are?

[sqrootofallevil]

Exactly where that woman said we are, as far as I can ascertain.

[luckyfooted]

So did this Sarah person speak with you too? [He sighs.] Another just-making-sure guess here but... You most likely don't know much past what she said, do you?