[There wasn't much way to go, when it came to Jake's own way. His way took being back in Vegas with the murky clues that led him on back over dried-blood trails from thirteen years ago and if you couldn't get out, his mouth went dry and his mind went blank and he didn't know what the hell the next step would be. But he blamed Graham. Graham was real clear on the rules, which meant he had gotten himself all sucked in, and if Graham was familiar, comfortable even (that shrug rubbed Jake like rubbing a cat's fur up backwards) with it then it was just Graham's fault there was no way back. Wasn't fair, but he wasn't fair.
He hadn't read much comics. Just to get a sense of the art style, so Gotham, that wasn't familiar much.]
So there's no way home. Any way to get in touch? [It didn't explain all the times before that Graham hadn't come back, but maybe it explained the most immediate. Still, it was all Graham's fault for being wherever it was that got you pulled in in the first place.]