Cherry Coke
"Well." Daniel clasps his hands as he sits across from her in the interrogation room. Her hands now cuffed through a steel ring melted to the underside of the table. "That could've gone better."
She shrugs, the cuffs clang, and she pulls and innocent grin. "I thought that went rather well."
"I watched through that glass—" he points to the window high on the wall of the room "—as you punched Major Mann in the face."
"Oh Daniel." Quirks her lips, resting her knees on the chair. "All your assumptions really will get you into trouble."
"I'm actually scared to ask this, but 'what assumptions'?"
"Well firstly, do not send an underling to do a superior's job."
"Duly noted," he pushes from the table, circling around the table, apparently conducting the interrogation himself now. "But not an assumption."
"Very true." Leans forward, planting her elbows on the table top. "I'm going to guess that you couldn't see what your Major Mann was doing with his hands during the interview."
That makes her dear doctor halt his pace. "What do you mean?"
"Apparently touching me unwantedly and inappropriately was part of his interrogation tactics."
"What?" To his benefit, there is a greater amount of anger riled behind his voice.
"My breaking of his nose was simply deterring him from touching me in the future."
His stare encompasses many things; his ability to see through her lies when she wants, his inherent need to be able to trust her, despite her only undertaking actions to support the opposite.
Only momentarily does the stern expression wash from his face, replaced with gentle brows and concern evident in his eyes. "Let me go get the keys."