A week later he found them in the Humanities Common room. Dagmar gave a half-smile of recognition, Zoe shrank away at his approach. He greeted and declined Dagmar's gesture of invitation. "I just wanted to see that you are getting better, and to give you this card from a locksmith I found close by. I saw you hadn't fitted additional locks and I think you need to."
She took the card, and said in a small voice: "Thank you. I'll call them."
That evening a soft knock came at his door. He opened to her almost stricken look. "I've come to say thank you. I owe you an apology. Can I come in?"
He smiled. "Of course. A drink?"
She gulped the light whiskey he had mixed for him, and asked another.
She sat across from him, a slim figure with long auburn hair and a sprinkling of freckles on her face, her hands knotted in her lap.
"Are you ok? You gave us a fright, the other night."
She nodded. "I don't want to talk about it. But thank you. I owe you." She crossed her legs nervously, then jumped up. "What is this?"
He frowned. She was abnormally tense. "That's a police baton, used for arresting a suspect, or for self-defence."
She put the baton back and touched a few other items. He reached past her. "This, now, is a special pair of handcuffs. Made to my own design. I forged this one from a piece of steel cable."
"Forged it?"
"Yes, I do a bit of smithing in my spare time, it appeals to my savage nature."
She turned to face him, her arms straight by her sides. Her green eyes were wide and blank.
"Kiss me now."
