"Mister, your hands are sticky enough without you needin' t'be conjurin' up devices t'keep me bound t'you."

She exhales a breathy chuckle, nuzzling up against his stubble.

(She knows he would -- and could -- if she gave him call to.)

Sighing softly, she kisses the underside of his chin.

"I am, y'know. Bound t'you. So you best not go no place you don't want me to follow."

No more dying on her.