Helena's eyes somehow managed to go even wider as he called her bluff.  Her mouth opened, then shut, as she found herself speechless as he moved past her to call for a camera.  The situation had spiraled beyond her control, and she had no idea how to extricate herself, let alone to achieve her objective.  Was she willing to go so far to solve a murder?  A nagging voice in the back of her mind, fueled by repressed fantasies and the tendrils of Mark's power that she hadn't even noticed, answered<em>yes</em>.<br/><br/>She dressed slowly, almost in reverse of how she had stripped.  She was just tucking in her blouse when he handed her the folder.  She nervously flipped it open, her eyes scanning the script and contract for some out even, deep down, as she hoped she wouldn't find one.  The nagging voice kept whispering.<em>You want it.  It's the excuse you've always hoped for.</em>She did her best to ignore the voice, but reached out to take the pen.<br/><br/>"Who am I, uh, starring with?"  She asked even as she put the tip of the pen to the signature line.  She stared, trying to decide if she was ready to go this far.  Then, with a flourish, she signed away her dignity.  She felt her heart pounding in her chest with nervous excitement.  A weird energy infused her.  She was not one to do this sort of thing, but here she was doing it anyway.  Her fears and concerns had begun to slip away under Mark's powers, and all that was left was a strange anticipation.  She jumped slightly at the knock, then moved to hand the folder back after taking out the script.<br/><br/>An almost silly thought suddenly occurred to her, and she glanced down, then at Mark.  "I'm wearing my clothes?  Do you pay for them to be cleaned or replaced?"  Her clothes weren't cheap, and if they were going to need to be professionally cleaned, she didn't want to be left with the bill.