❝Well, I don’t know about you, but I haven’t lost a wink of sleep wondering about it.❞ Then again, whether there was anything in this city anymore which would cause Roman Torchwick to bat so much as an eyelash was questionable at best. Even in the face of adversity, the man had a remarkable penchant for level-headedness, not to mention a silver tongue which landed him in trouble more often than not.
❝Not to say that I’d openly admit myself into that little asylum of their’s…but it wouldn’t make a bad vacation home for anyone who comes snooping who shouldn’t. It certainly is much easier than explaining the state of “suspicious wine stains” to my dry cleaners every other week.❞
“Naturally, Boss. Oh, and I looked in to that a bit. Not a bad idea at all.”
“Killing them just has ‘em come back, anyways. So we incapacitate them, tranq them, drug them, what-say-you, then ship ‘em to the asylum. Out of our hands, in to theirs.” A mild pause. He liked the idea quite a bit, really.
Only one thing concerned him.
“Though, our interactions with the clowns should be as anonymous as possible. Less we have to do with them personally the better, I see it.”
