[There's definitely something he can feel, an unwanted intrusion in his mind, the tickle and scrape of something that he can't quite put his finger on. He pauses in the middle of the room, hands in pockets, as he furrows his brows thoughtfully. There's little of value in there that Silva wouldn't already know, he considers, and any memories he doesn't want were locked away long ago that even he struggles to recall. James' mind, on the surface, is quite a simple thing, full of nothing but current plans and knowledge that only applies to the situation at hand. He's actually quite a pro and compartmentalising is something he appears to do quite naturally.]

Hn. She won't believe this. I still don't believe this. [He doesn't particularly want it, either.] Doesn't matter, anyway, you'll be gone in a few hours and we won't have to worry about it. [That's assuming this only works close range...]