A few days ago, while a little party was out in full swing, two armed men had made an attempt to kidnap Richard Roper’s son. You had been there, of course, you were at all of Roper’s get together but you’d never seen him so cooperative as the moment that his young son had a gun aimed at his head. Admittedly, even someone like Roper had to be truly heartless to not try and keep things as calm as possible in such a situation.

He me thing had lead to another and the armed men had tried to escape to the nearby dock with the young boy in tow, only to be interrupted by a member of staff that worked at the restaurant. This staff member, you soon found out, was Jonathan Pine; the man who used to be a Night Manager for a hotel in Switzerland… a man Roper had encountered before except this time he was bloodied on the floor, barely breathing and clearly unconscious.

Roper didn’t trust him, not completely but then again none of the crew did. But he had saved his son and therefore, Roper took Jonathan back to the villa in Majorca (Mallorca), Spain.

Jonathan had been laid in one of the many bedrooms of the villa when he finally woke up from his unconscious slumber, claiming he was in agony despite having already been stitched up and on the way to healing. There was something off about this whole thing, you were sure of it. For a little while his act of struggles worked but, eventually, all good things came to an end and Roper was growing impatient with Jonathan’s ‘pain.’ It was almost like he was only using it as an excuse to avoid the inevitable.

So, while Roper was away and Corky was off doing work, you made your way into the bedroom Jonathan had been assigned. Medical supplies scattered on the bedside table and the drawers beside him but he appeared to be asleep. You had to admit, he was still covered in injuries but they had mostly healed compared to what they’d originally been.

You sat down by his side, waiting silently until his eyes opened. It didn’t seem like he’d actually been asleep and he didn’t make much of an effort to give a convincing wake-up performance either — he’d faked sleeping in hopes you’d leave and he wouldn’t have to talk to you.

Then, his gaze met yours. He didn’t say anything, waiting for you to speak first.