There's a long, painfully drawn-out moment when Gideon says nothing. She just stands there staring Lenore down, lips now sculpted into the kind of snarl which is usually followed by a barrage of her nastiest insults. By her side, the hand that is not clutching the books curls tight into a fist--

--but she wants to get the fuck out of this shitty cage. Wants to sleep in a bed, wants to do something with the endless hours that isn't pacing or counting fucking stones. The length of her silence reaches and then extends past the point of comfort, as though maybe if she stares at her for long enough Lenore will relent. She doesn't relent, though, and if this is some kind of test of her willingness to obey-- is it really that bad? The way they'd dragged her in here had been more humiliating. Her state of neglect over the first few days much worse.

With an explosive sigh and a monumental roll of her eyes, Gideon moves to kneel. An unconscious consideration for their differences in height all wrapped up with her small acts of insubordination. "Fine. Whatever."

There's a look to her face like an animal preparing to bite, but she lifts her chin anyway. Making it easier for Lenore to fasten the collar about her throat.