Half a day was a long time to spend tied to a chair.
Lucy's wrists had gone from uncomfortable to numb somewhere around the third hour. Her back ached from the position. The chair itself was functional rather than anything else, the kind of utilitarian wooden thing that was designed to hold a person's weight and had no further ambitions.
Christopher's chair was better. He'd dragged it in from another room at some point before she'd fully come around, and he'd arranged it across from her. The small desk beside him was a nice touch, he'd brought that in too, she assumed while she was still out, and had his feet crossed on it now, boots propped up on the surface with the soles facing her clearly to piss her off even more.
He was reading.
An actual book. He'd been on it since he came here, and he'd barely moved in two hours except to occasionally turn a page or leave the room briefly, gone for ten minutes at most, always returning, always taking the same seat without getting bored.
