<em><strong>Incoming Message (G):</strong> Understood. Moving on my wing now, K keep yours cold. ETA: 5 minutes.</em><br/><br/>Given the timing of the message, it almost seems like the wave of snickers that run through the assembled gangers is at Rishi's predicament rather than her "offer"; but of course, the gangers aren't aware of the fact that they have a five-minute window to have their fun... they're more focused on the elf bent over the coffee table in front of them.<br/><br/>"Ha! Whaddya say to that, boy-os?" The man who'd held her leash snickers and rests the barrel of his shotgun between the cheeks of Rishi's ass, a macabre effigy of what's about to happen. "We got us an elf an' some time to kill... Why don't you go ahead an' show the boys what they've won? Keep yer ass down on the wood, but I'm givin' you thirty seconds ta shed those threads before we tear 'em off you an' make you walk the streets naked as the day you were born..."<br/><br/>And to make sure she realizes just how serious he is, the man begins to tap the barrel of his shotgun against the table, counting out a steady, clock-like rhythm...