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"I don't want to answer questions at gunpoint," Mac said suddenly. "This isn't appropriate. It seems to me–"

I held up a hand and turned to starling. "We will figure this out," I said to her. "If you are innocent, I'm sure you want that, too. I think this will go more quickly and smoothly if you..."

It was almost funny. Somerset shifted a bit, just a fraction of an inch, and starling and I both turned to face him.

"He tried to jump me before," she said. "He'll try it again, if he sees an opening,"

I shook my head. "Somerset," I said, "sit up straight. Don't move again, or I will knock you out. Which beats being shot. Or I might tie you up in an uncomfortable and embarrassing position."

Somerset was obviously a smart aleck, a wise guy. Ready to take any opportunity to show off, either verbally or physically. You have to be very firm with people like that, as with some children. I was glad Ron wasn't like that, though at the moment mostly I was glad she wasn't there. If we got out of this alive, I wanted to take Pete out for a drink or dinner or something, to thank him for protecting her.

And it seemed likely that, as much as Somerset didn't like being yelled at by me, he would prefer that to being shot by starling.

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