Liam sorted through his various implements, trying to decide which one to use. Testing their heft, their swing, tapping them against his hand. Really, it was all to make Mike wait. But as he was testing the flex of a riding crop, Mike spoke. He froze, the crop bowed in both hands, and slowly swiveled his head to look at Mike.

He crossed the room in a few angry strides, his footfalls loud on the warn carpet. His hands slammed against the back of Mike's head, using a fistful of the junkie's hair to smash his face into the sheets. "Did I give you permission to speak?!" he hissed, as if his anger were too much to contain. "Did I give you permission to QUESTION ME?!"