He moves within lunging distance and snarls, "Hands, Over Your Head." His eyes glance around the room. If there is no one else in the room and a vent is a skew, he continues, "Turn around. Hands against the wall."

The vent is not askew. The young woman keeps her hands in front of her face, and as Bart yells at her, slumps to the deck...apparently unconscious.

Bart gives the lump of coveralls a disgusted look. He then

grabs

the waif and tosses it one the bed. A quick frisk for weapons exhausts his patience, "Mouse!"

...Paris got up, a knee bracing herself in the small of Percy's

back. "Do *NOT* move," she warned him with a wag of her finger, then got to her feet and dusted herself off...

"Dammit." she straightened her blouse and ignored the loss of the button. "I just bought this blouse."

Percy doesn't get up, but he does say, "But she said they would *kill* her..."

"Like I haven't used that myself," the brunette growled deep in her throat.

She glided her way into the cabin and looked at Bart--and looked at the slender young woman on the bed. "Oh, my."

The brunette looked up at Bart. "Let me guess, you'd prefer me

to do

the search--which I will, if you leave the cuffs."