Marlowe cranes his head to see the guard's desk... at least, he thought, from this point in things seemed rather familiar... just like prison, and prison was familiar enough.  He remains limp and as heavy as possible as they lug him down the hall...<em>moaning mike..?</em>"What about moaning Lisa?  Or even Moaning Michelle?  I'd much prefer to listen to that--" the deeper in he gets, he realizes, the more his strategy will have to adapt to get free.  If he can.  Else, it'll be time to determine if a human being can hang himself with rope improvised from worn-out fatigue pants.