Drogo pulled a stool from the side and sat down in front of her.
"Stop your rubbish."
He slid a fork onto the plate before setting it properly in her lap.
"From the way you were moving earlier," he continued calmly, "I almost thought you were going to dislocate your joints or crack a bone before you finally woke up."
Karen tilted her head. "What do you mean?"
"Moments during your unconsciousness," he said, leaning back slightly on the stool, "you were convulsing like a maniac in your sleep."
He gestured lightly toward the bedframe. "Thus, the chains."
From his pocket he pulled out a small key and leaned forward. The cuffs clicked open around her wrists. He removed them and dropped the metal restraints to the side of the bed.
"Besides," he added, straightening again, "if I intended to keep you restrained, I already did that well enough with the microchip in your neck."
Karen rubbed her wrists slowly. A smile crept across her face. "Oooh… controlling much, daddy?"
