Jokes about bondage aside, Emma felt no guilt in tying up the wooden block. First of all, they needed to make sure he'd be still while the magic worked. Secondly, she had questions. This wouldn't be like Storybrooke where he could take off running. He probably wouldn't be running right away anyway, but she'd rather not take her chances.
She was sitting in a chair next to the bed they'd given him in the house she now apparently shared with half of Storybrooke, and when the hell had that happened? She was looking over case files for work when she felt him start to stir. Emma glanced up, refusing to look pleased. Merlin and Loki had, of course, succeeded. Oh, he'd been flesh again. But waiting to see how he reacted was important, too. If he'd heal, if he'd be all right.
She returned her eyes to the papers in her hands and let out a sigh. "Had to improvise. Like hospital restraints. You were trying to fight the magic bringing you back." Not entirely true. But when one holds a grudge against a puppet, they should do so properly. And she was angry. It was only him lying in the bed looking rather pathetic that kept her from punching him.
Finally the stack of papers went down to her lap and she narrowed her eyes in a glare. "If I let you go, are you going to try and run? Because I don't have a medical degree but I really don't think that's the best idea."