But Dean soon abandoned that idea.
If he had his real body, he was confident that with a gun in hand, he could fight his way out. Not now, though.
There were an unknown number of prison guards here. On the cranes around the perimeter, heavy machine guns glinted in the sun. Adding to his predicament were the unfamiliar terrain and iron fences everywhere.
Trying to take a gun would most likely be a dead end.
Since that was the case, Dean took a deep breath and said calmly, "I'm sorry, I'm just a pauper, but I have value!"
The prison guard raised his eyebrows slightly. "Speak!"
He was very good at squeezing every last drop of value out of prisoners, especially unlucky ones who were as good as dead and had no connections.
