Everywhen

It's not exactly how he saw the evening going. But by now he's learned to roll with surprises.

Not the bed, he's decided. It's not safe, and it doesn't give him enough access, and there are useable attach points in the floor and ceiling - rings, sturdy enough when he pulls on them. So the bed is stripped and for now it's where he's spread out his tools - leather cuffs, flogger, riding crop, rattan cane, a police baton capable of shattering bone, knives and gauze and rubbing alcohol.

He's not nervous. But this is going to take some care. A lot of concentration.

There's a fair amount at stake.

"Just tell me one more time," he says, finally turning, looking at Dean in the low light the lamp near the bed is throwing. "You really want this?"