<br/>Being called an idiot brings a brief surge of irritation, but it's there and gone in a flash - the feel of a shotgun in my back is more than enough to erase any other sensations. And she's telling them to... string me up?<br/><br/>I try to step away, only managing to shove the shotgun harder into my back. I don't want to be strung up - I can get out of a lot of things, but being "strung up" isn't something that sounds easy to escape. I lick my lips, my eyes darting out across the lawn, judging escape routes. Useless - the gun in my back has me paralysed.<br/><br/>I shudder as the blonde begins stringing up my ankles, watching them in confusion. They're not hog tying me - I don't see what's happening at first, so I watch nervously. Being lifted aloft catches me by surprise, and I let loose a surprised yelp, my legs waving in the air as I try to find purchase. "Hey, let me down!" I yelp, writhing in mid air - I'm helpless like this and I know it, I can't help descending into panic at the thought. What are these people going to do?