Right now, every moment feels like a remarkably sharp learning curve. For example, it's surprisingly difficult to tell someone to go backflip off the balcony when their humiliating request is paired up with the words I want you. Particularly, as it transpires, when those words are stated with calm certainty by the most beautiful woman Gideon has ever laid eyes on. She stands for a moment, tense, poised somewhere between go fuck yourself and yes ma'am. In the end, the hint of sharpness in Lenore's tone has her settling for an eyeroll and a huffed exhale.

She turns around and stalks right out of the room. And yes she may take a deliberately extended length of time before she slopes back in again, but when she does she's wearing the collar. Lifts her chin to show where it rests against the bruises at her throat.

"Woof. Happy?"