Remy twisted his head in vein, trying to push the cloth from his mouth, triggering a muffled cough, and he glared after his captor. No rhyme or reason. How the fuck could someone wind up this twisted?
The terry cloth made his mouth feel dry, and he wanted to retch, instead focusing his anger on the love seat. He'd managed to use his powers without touch a few times recently, god forbid it failed him now that he really needed it.