Michael trembled, but blinked twice.
Tristan nodded in satisfaction.
"You really aren't as smug anymore, asshole. Bullets really do things with the person's sense of self-importance," Tristan said.
He slowly untied the knot holding Michael's gag in place and put it out. His mind and body were on alert, ready to give Cutout the real signal in case Michael decided to be dangerous.
At first, Michael just coughed. Tristan moved a bottle of water to his mouth and helped him to drink—not out of mercy, but because he wouldn't be able to talk with sandpaper-dry throat and a case of dehydration.
After Michael drank some and spilled some of that water, Tristan put the bottle away and looked at the man in silence.
Michael opened his mouth, then glanced at Cutout and closed it again, biting his lip. A soft whimper left his throat.
The tension was mounting up by a moment. Tristan was sorting the questions in his head by the order of priority.
