Frank used to be a bartender in the Marines so he whipped up a Tom Collins once he realized the safe house had all the ingredients.<br/><br/>The drink seemed to relax and mellow out his captive. They actually had a conversation, for starters. And not one filled with threats or talk about dead people or those about to be dead.<br/><br/>Lauren had an air about her. Frank chalked it up to she playing to all those men in all those clubs. She knew all about body language and when to tilt her head. She knew how to giggle at the right times and how to play with her hair. And she knew how to use her voice. The girl was finally free of bonds (mostly) and her vocal tract was no longer stuffed, stopped open and sealed. And she was trying to take advantage.<br/><br/>Trying.<br/><br/>Frank knew, of course, that the redhead was laying it on a little thick. Dozens of female marks had done the same thing. Frank wasn't classically handsome but he had some Montgomery Clift in him and the girls seemed to like that.<br/><br/>But he had been around the block. Lauren was mostly unfettered and she was flirting with him, plain and simple. Something a chick really can't do while she's immobile and silenced.<br/><br/>But it was pleasant enough conversation. Refreshing, even. The Scotch tasted even better when drank in the company of a fox like Lauren de Salle.<br/><br/>She said she had to pee and even that was infused with sensuality.<br/><br/>Frank got up and stopped in front of her.<br/><br/>"This is why I kept you barefoot," he said, though the added perk was that Lauren had very attractive feet. "So you won't want to run around in the dark in an area that is very unfriendly to bare feet."<br/><br/>With that, and a smirk designed to be sexy, Frank unlocked Lauren's right wrist.<br/><br/>"Make it fast. Keep the door unlocked."