The plane's engine ran smoothly, its steady rhythm cleared her head and began steadying her

pulse. Even an hour after escaping the club, adrenaline was still pumping through her

veins. Outside, the clouds drifted by like large puffs of cotton candy. Sydney looked over at

Sark. He sat across from her, staring out the window. With no expression, he looked so

young, so vulnerable. Vulnerable her foot.

"How's your shoulder?" Her voice dripped like honey and was as sweet as sugar.

Sark looked at her in surprise. "It's splendid. Thank you for your concern."

She acknowledged this with a nod, then pretended to be gazing out the window herself. Not

a very engaging pastime though, for the scene below was a familiar one. Large, blue, and

water were the only words left to describe it. Well, black right then, since it was still

nighttime after all.

"Although," Sark continued, "that little spill we took at the club did knock it about some. I

should probably have it checked when we get back."

Perfect. He had taken the bait already.

"Speaking of the little spill, exactly what was that about anyway?"

He looked at her in feigned innocence. "Really, Sydney, I would think someone with your

IQ would have understood my trying to save our lives."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Don't try to bluff your way out of this one, Sark. If you EVER try something like that

again, I will thrash you to within an inch of your life. Do you understand?"

"I understand your threat completely, Sydney; but if you didn't enjoy it, then why, might I

ask, did you respond in kind? Perhaps I should be asking you to refrain as well." Smirk.

Her fist rolled into a ball.

"Go suck on an egg, Sark." was the first thing that came to her mind. Wha–? A mental head

slap was definitely required for this.

"Excuse me?"

Well, she'd better go with it, otherwise a fool she would appear.

"You heard me."

"I certainly heard you, but what kind of a retort was that?"

"That was my kind of a retort, so I repeat, go suck on an egg."

"Well, in response, there are other things I would enjoy sucking on much more than an

egg."

Sark was at the end of his string, and he knew it. But for some reason, his inhibitions were

nowhere to be found.

"Would you like me to list them for you?"

Sydney jumped up. "No, I would NOT like you to list them for me. In fact, I would NOT

like for you to talk at all!"

Before he could move, Sydney had grabbed a pair of handcuffs from her carry-on, and

latched Sark to the chair by his left wrist. Another pair of handcuffs for his other wrist

followed, though where she found them he knew not. Four seconds after that, the duct tape

had been removed from a nearby cupboard and attached to his face.

With alook of extreme satisfaction, Sydney sat back down across from him.