Ling stood at the foot of his bed shirtless, his arms hung over his head. He craned his neck to take another look at his bindings: the knots she'd tied were beautifully symmetrical and very well secure. He'd already tried to wriggle out of them discreetly to no avail.
Somehow, this tiny little thing had managed to loop the thin ropes up and over the brace bars of the bed canopy and then tied them off to one of the opposite posts. Then, apparently, she had vanished into thin air. It'd been five, ten minutes now? He could neither hear nor see her, though he was sure she was still in the room somewhere. No one had opened any doors at any rate.
"So, Sook-Joo, was it?" There was no response. "You've done a lovely job of tying me up, but now I have to wonder what comes next? I must say this isn't how these things usually go for me, though I think you'll find I'm pretty open to learning new things." He was rambling now and he knew it. Her silence was unnerving, and he hoped that if he kept talking that he might hit upon something she could relate to. He was fairly certain she wasn't an assassin, though only mostly sure.
"I prefer when you don't talk," she said from right behind him, or at least that's what he thought she'd said. Then her small hands reached around from behind and stuffed his mouth full of silk, quickly wrapping another sash around his face, forcing it between his lips like the bit of a horse's bridle. Well, that was definitely not how these things normally went.
She stepped up to the bed and unfolded the linen bundle she'd carried in, revealing a short handled whip with many braided tails. Reverently, she picked up the whip and began delicately untangling it's many strands. Ling was growing steadily more concerned about this whole affair. This was definitely going to be a scary night.