"What do you really want? Let me go home." Paisley Kirk, though frail, was also roused to anger by Lucy Clayton's provocation. Of course, she was also clear that she was probably unable to escape his clutches now.
"You look cute when you're angry. Are you eighteen this year?" Clayton chuckled lightly, not upset in the least, but speaking in a gentle and soothing tone instead.
"I am eighteen, not yet of age, and, if my friends can't get in touch with me for a long time, they will call the police. So could you please have your people give me my phone?" Paisley Kirk suddenly softened, realizing that being tough was not working, so she might as well plead with him. If he liked her, then maybe if she asked him, he should let her go.