It wasn’t as if Madeleine expected Madame Naumov to surrender without a fight. Being called a bitch was one of the more pleasant terms she had been coined during an abduction. Over the years, she had heard some colorful dialogue, ranging from trivial things like her appearance, all the way to things about her father and mother. It was almost always foul, and almost always unbefitting of them. In any other instance, she couldn’t imagine the ballet instructor – who had so patiently worked to sculpt the children that had left – call anyone a bitch. In the end, it didn’t matter. The gag always went in, and words were simply that. Words.<br/><br/>There were plenty of ways to force a subject to open their mouths; it depended on many things, ranging from the situation, the type of gag, and even the person themselves. However, they were alone after hours, so they had a little time to work. She withdrew the sponge ball, cocking it back by her ear as if amused, then glanced at Sergei.<br/><br/>“Cover her mouth nice and tightly,” she said, then reached out and pinched the Madame’s nose between her thumb and forefinger. “I think Madame Naumov will reconsider when she turns a little blue.”