"Harry, stop it. What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?"
"Like you're tying me to the chair."
"Then, I think you'll find that that's what I'm doing."
"Oww!"
"Oh, sorry, Ruth. Are you okay?"
"Yes, it just pulled a little, but it's fine now."
"Good, that's good," he said gently.
She paused for a moment and thought about what she had just said.
"Actually, no it's not okay! What am I saying! You're tying me to a chair. Stop it now and let me loose."
"I can't."
"Why not?"
"I've used cable ties and I haven't got a knife."
"Well, scissors. Use scissors."
"I've lost them."
"Oh for heaven's sake, just let me go!"
"No."
"No?"
"No, I'm doing it for a reason, Ruth. There's no point in me letting you go, before I've done it."
"Done what?"
She looked at him and for the first time began to worry if everything that had happened in the last few weeks had finally tipped him over the edge.
"Done what I need to do, Ruth."
He stood back and admired his handy work.
She sat. Not that she had any other choice.