Lyle Bolton
So. She had a bone to pick with Chill, too. This was interesting, but irrelevant. Finders keepers, and he'd gotten here first. Chill would stay with him and no feline fatale was going to snatch him away, not when he was going to face true punishment for his many crimes for the first time in his miserable life. Bolton shakes his head and contemplates the woman's mask.
"No," he rasps.
He leaves it uncertain as to which question he's answering - will he kill the mobster, or will he let this cat woman interrogate Chill - for a reason. If Chill fears death, he will be less likely to aggravate the situation by trying to escape. With that in mind, he reaches to his belt with a free hand and claims a set of sturdy handcuffs, which he then moves to put on Chill. He jerks the mobster's hand behind his back and pushes it up towards his shoulder blades. He could easily break the arm.
The threat is clear.
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I'm going to cuff Chill's hands behind his back. If he struggles, or tries to get away, that would be a problem, but hopefully he's scared enough of Bolton breaking his arm that he won't try anything desperate.