Spit-polished chains was slicing into the wrists' skin. Booth didn't understand what time is it right now, but due to bright lights, shined through the big windows with snow-white curtains, he got that it's a middle of the day.
A picture in front of his eyes was reminding him a big and crazy carousel: everything was flowing and flying round and then frozing for a second, becoming distinct, but after that was smoothing again. From time to time he saw around himself a decked room with bleached walls, with strange two-levelled tables everywhere. Something laid on them, but his eyesight was too weak for now to detect what exactly could it be.
Fetched his wind a bit, he compassed with disgust that he's almost upright, chained by hand and foot to the fixed base, and there're nothing but a lot of terrifying surgical instruments on those damned tables. They were of many shapes and different sizes, but all of them were sharpen as well as possible. What is more, the base wasn't metallic and wasn't even wooden, it was made by high-quality artificial leather and really looked like operating-table.
Seeley twitched the chains twice, but stopped quickly: it was becoming more painful. Looked around carefully and took a control over his hazy mind, he figured out with despair where he is, and understood that he won't leave this place without any help.
"You're here because of yourself," Pelant came into the room, shaking down his hands.
"Indeed? Sounds like I nailed myself to this thing independently, did I?" Seeley didn't used and didn't going to show his fear.
"Figuratively saying".
"Not epically, you know".
"I called it. I'm afraid I will had to cut you tongue for all that," he rolled his eyes in disappointment, inhibiting himself seeing how much the agent's face turned convulsed by the heard.
"Don't forget the gloves".
"Oh, don't worry about that," Christopher waited patiently for the moment when he will ask him about his guilt, but he hasn't said anything yet.
"So, are you going to talk with me all the time?" the agent snarled and chuckled, trying to exhibit his fearlessness, but the shot ragged breathing turned him in; "I can get bored soon".
At least, no manifestation of fear could be hidden from Christopher Pelant. He was a real expert in these things.
"You don't need to be afraid of boredom, I promise," Pelant stepped towards the small table and took a long scalpel in arms slowly.
"The gloves," Seeley whispered with an effort; "You didn't draw them on".
"But l didn't want to do anything," the criminal removed his hand immediately and let himself look into the victim's eyes, when he understood that it's too hard for him to take a control over his desires. But he was had to; "I just evaluated. I haven't got problems with my memory".
"Only with your sick mind," Booth continued inwardly.
A few minutes later Christopher got tired of it and after a couple of silent seconds he drew on fine medical gloves indifferently.
"Why?" Seeley gave up exactly when he took the scalpel again.
Honestly speaking, he was simply playing for time in hope that they are looking for him and will find him very soon, although he knew perfectly well: all which tied to Pelant can disappear if it's necessary. And his body will also be disappeared if the provident killer wants this. But probably he will act the opposite way this time and exhibit his work for everyone. It's a majestic honor and pride for him to kill invincible Seeley Booth and break the hearts of his family and co-workers by that.
Temperance will cry over it so much...
"Because it was a bad idea to tease me!"
Even the criminal didn't predict it from himself. Words slipped out from his mouth like unstoppable stream, what was rare and untypical for his temper. He always could take a hold on himself, keep his high manners, scaring his helpless sacrifices due to that wide cold-blooded smile, but now his tongue proved to be more important than habits. Apparently, a run-up of so meaningful murder was exciting him so much. Suddenly Pelant found a quite interesting thought, that if he had a choice: to spent the night with his lovely Brennan or get a chance to deal with her "super-agent", he would chose the second one. By the reason of this conclusion his face was distorted by wicked, terrible smile, which he hurried to hide for a while:
"I swear, I didn't want to harm you, honestly, but you left me no choice," he grabbed him by his cheekbones and turned his face forcedly; "Little stubborn boy. Once you stepped into my territory — play by my rules".