As she tied him down, she nodded slightly, worried that the redhead might see if she was obvious about it. She didn't know who this blonde man was, but he was big and he seemed like he could handle himself against the wormy one.
When George was tied, Patrick went to inspect the ropes and then he put a few more knots in them. Just for good measure. It wasn't very inventive, but Patrick hadn't exactly been trained in the art of torture. In movies, they always tired victims to chairs. It seemed like the way to go. And when George's wrists and ankles were bound, he pulled the girl back towards the table.
She was already sporting several wounds and it had been several days since she'd eaten, though Patrick had given her water to keep her more alert. It also meant she still had more fight in her than he would like. When he tried to push her back onto the table, she shrieked and tried to claw at him. "Stop it!" he hissed at her as he battled the onslaught of all an untrained, one-hundred and thirty pound woman could offer. It turned out even exhausted, wounded and hungry, she could offer quite a lot.
Finally he had to pull his gun to make her stop fighting him and his face shone with fresh scratch marks. "Bitch," he growled, wiping at the blood on his mouth. "Get the fuck back on the table."
"Just let me go, I didn't do anything!" she wailed. For her outburst, Patrick hit her over the head with the butt of his gun.