“Stand down,” Brandish ordered.

“Now why would I want to do that?”

So, who do we have here? Sounds like a prick.

It sounds like something Coil or Jack would say, but there are plenty others who might. Maybe Kaiser.

Marquis asked.

Oh! Ohhh. That makes sense, given who we just talked about.

Niiice. I’m down for this.

“I’ve won every time your team has challenged me, this situation isn’t so different.”

Are you sure? Because I have a major suspicion that this is the all-female challenge that got you arrested.

“You have nowhere to run.  We’ve got you where you live,” Manpower spoke.

Uh.

So we’ve got “in his house” checked off, but not “all female”, unless Manpower has been hiding something from us. Did someone lie here? Except wasn’t it Dragon’s narration that told us about Marquis’ arrest?

“I have plenty of places to run,” Marquis replied, shrugging.  “It’s just a house, I won’t lose any sleep over leaving it behind.  It’s an expensive house, I’ll admit, but that little detail loses much of its meaning when you’re as ridiculously wealthy as I am.”

Hehe.

I do like Marquis, even if he is a bit of a prick.

The Brockton Bay Brigade closed in on the man who stood by his leather armchair, wearing a black silk bathrobe.  He held his ground.

Oh hey, I forgot about the old name.

“If you’ll allow me to finish my wine-” he started, bending down to reach for the wine glass that sat beside the armchair.

I have a strange relationship with arrogance in fiction. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it. This is the former case.

That said, there may very well be a gun hidden somewhere near that wine glass.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s