She had come to expect, from movies and television, that a gun barrel would be cold. It just seemed to fit into a sentence better that way. This one, however, was warm.

She decided to not think about where he had been carrying it.

“If this is…” she began, but before she could choke out another word a hand came around her head on the left and clamped down over her mouth.

“You don’t want to start talking right now.”
His voice sounded very normal, with none of the sinister overtones she expected from the situation. His hand was warm, and soft; it was pressing hard, but not painfully on her face.

He stepped back, pulling the chair with him, and closed the office door with his other hand. Her office was on the fourth floor, a former recording studio – the soundproofing was impressive. Nobody would be able to hear her with the door shut. Before she knew it, he had picked up the masking tape on her desk and made a makeshift gag from it.

He wheeled the chair around to face her.