<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff9999">Breathing exercises had been taught to each of them, for staying calm under pressure, and for resisting torture. She flinched a little as metal rolled over her cuts, until he stooped down so he was holding the blood stained object in his hand, dripping with her blood. She glared at him quietly, through truthfully she had no idea what the object was. She had a few guesses where it could be shoved however, and there was a very good chance that it wasn’t <i>his </i>ass.</span>