"You are a tyrant. When the revolution comes for your head I will be there. Laughing."

Cause for concern. Had she allowed these modifications to go too far? Which alteration was responsible for the lingering warmth where her head had just been pat? She could be haunted, she supposes. Possessed? It's unlikely though: Machia has such minimal spiritual energy that most mystics just shrivel up and die in her presence. 

She'd have to review the notes later. [i]Her[/i] notes, her journal. Machia's logs didn't make sense to anybody but her. Which was either the proof that she was a genius, or an idiot. The type you'd have to be desperate to ask for help. 

Madeleine's entire body is tense. It is also flushed with heat; her skin is electric and prickling even where nothing is touching it. Especially, in fact. No, this is not a haunting. This heat is very different from the frozen joints and the weight stomping on her chest that makes it impossible to breath or move. Here she can strain against her bindings just fine, it is simply pointless to do so. Here, some deep impulse inside of her is making her squeeze her legs toward one another, though that does nobody any good. 

Her tail is dancing without permission. Still, she says nothing. Seconds creep past her into minutes and there is only the sound of a computer running off in the corner and the small haptic buzzes of her phone as Machia continues to play with it without permission. Continues to play with [i]her[/i] without permission. 

Her hair, lifted. Twisted around, this soft and delicious feeling like there are fingers brushing up against her soul. It all pulls taut and then is released again, unwinding so she can go through it all again. She still doesn't say anything. Minutes become half an hour. 

"I am rescinding my offer."

She has to clear her throat. Her back feels stiff, she's been letting it stay pulled for so long. Wandering, winding waiting...

She relaxes.

"When... you let me up. I will not make coffee. You will take me somewhere we can have a cup together."

She lets her amber eyes drift closed and lets the waves inside the room wash over her.

A moment later, she opens them again.

"...Somewhere... nice. Where they serve it... in a real cup. If you bring me to a vending machine again I promise... they will never find your body."