"A wash won't even touch the point of sanitation needed for this degradation." Tavington stared lividly at Nat, curling his mouth into a predatory snarl.

"Then add an extra ten minutes," she snapped, surprised at her own boldness.

The colonel continued to leer silently and pushed past her, pulling off the white shirt he'd been given for the short incarceration and hurled it to the floor with a pronounced slap on the linoleum of the entryway, while Nat could only stare after him.

"Or, ya know… use all the hot water and jack my bill!" She called.

No answer but a rattling slam of the bathroom door.

"Guess that's thanks for busting your ass out," Nat muttered, turning to look down at Mo, who stared dejectedly at the floor. "C'mon, I think there's a Greenie or two in your jar. God knows your breath could use a few." Nat wrinkled her nose before kneeling to scratch behind his ears. "Might be a while anyway, before Cranky Tight-Pants decides to talk again."

Forty five minutes later, Nat sat on the couch with Mo, still waiting for the colonel to finish in the bathroom, but there wasn't even a hint of him making a re-entrance.

"Don't tell me you're drowning yourself!" she called, trying to maintain a light mood. Tavington's ever-serious demeanor did its part to keep her on her toes, and at the moment, was starting to get the best of her, and to her misfortune, there was still no attempt to respond.

"Dammit, what the hell…?"

Gesturing offhandedly, Nat signaled for Mo to stay behind in television room while she made her way to the bathroom and rapped on the door.

"Hey, did you even turn on the water?" she asked edgily. "Planning an escape?"

Silence.

"Jesus, you could at least let me know you're still breathing!"

Nat huffed and pulled her hand away from the door just as Tavington opened it from the other side, staring down at her with an expression of anger and troubled malcontent, jaw tight, as if he was clenching his teeth. He still had not showered, but stood shirtless, with his hair unbound, blocking her way forward.

"Okay, well, you're alive then…" Nat dropped her voice, suddenly aware of how small she was next to the man who easily towered over her.

"Quite," he answered softly, mocking her tone. "And yes, I have a couple of things I would very much like to discuss with you, as I fear you may have neglected to inform me of certain events that just happen to be of utmost importance to my personal endeavors…"

"Oh yeah?" Nat's stomach churned dangerously and she consciously worked to not look too panicked. "What now, could possibly bother you?"

"Nothing here, no," Tavington agreed, crossing his arms where Nat's gaze followed, and she noticed a scar on the left side of his chest, a faded but perfectly cut horizontal slash. "But I must wonder… what am I to do with an American victory and claimed independence?"

"I…" Nat's mouth was dry, and all she could do was fixate on his chest to avoid looking at him directly.

"Was that detail going to remain intentionally left unspoken?" he stepped toward her, leaning down until she could see the light shadow on his face.

Nat squeaked uneasily as words continued to fail her, but the colonel wasn't finished.

"If you've managed to withhold this from me, then I assume there's more to you… to me, than I've just uncovered." He pressed, smirking as she squirmed to stay away from his gaze. "But, we've got time enough to discuss such matters."

"No! No, we don't!" Nat answered instinctively before she could check her reasoning.

"Oh?"

"I… I need time to think."

Tavington scoffed.

"If you neglected to do so earlier, I doubt now will grant you any miracle of the sort."

"Look, give me an hour…. Please." Nat genuinely grasped for understanding, turning her tone to one of solemnity. "I don't have the right words for an explanation right now. I need to piece my thoughts into something plausible. I'm sorry, but I'm new to this too."

"So foolishly so!" the officer snarled, and she winced.

"Then I'm guessing an hour can hardly do more damage!" Nat spoke up, using her last string of reason.

Tavington pursed his lips.

"Very well. One hour."