You can pace the room if you’d like, but it’s barely a cage; long enough to lay out on the floor in either direction, but not much bigger. At first it seems empty; but after a time the shallow sound of breathing is perceptible, coming from one of the walls. There’s a bed there, little more than a cot, with a supine body on it. Was that there
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She approaches, crouching down beside the cot to reach forward and look for a pulse at least.]
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...Potes dicere*?
[When it comes out in Latin, Natasha furrows her brow, and blinks rapidly, trying again:]
Kannst du sprechen*?
[Okay. That's just...wonderful.]
*Can you speak?
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I don't understand you.
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I know, I'm... [Oh, good.] Where are we? Are you all right?
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[Not really fine. But having someone else here, he'd rather not look helpless.]
Doesn't matter where we are, we're not going anywhere.
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[She pulls gently at her wrist, to prompt him to let go if he will. Natasha is back to scanning their prison and checking the pockets of her skirt for something to help.]
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It's nothing. They clean up after themselves. [A light snort of derision. And, after a moment;]
I'll tear this building to the ground the second they let me.
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And what would it take to...let you?
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Turn off the damn security!
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