"Threatened?" she says, with brief, melodic laugh. "What could you do to me, Herbert? Science, research... it isn't the most spontaneous of arts. It takes time. Analysis. It's not so good at... sudden movements."

With those last words, she jerks her wrist, bringing the strings of the bow against the skin near his throat. It will cut the skin there as easily as a spinning blade, making the sharp note of a violin as it goes. It's far enough to draw blood, but not enough to risk being lethal. At least, not yet.

Do you ever get the funny feeling that there is background music winding up? It feels a bit like that right now.