So it was, that even as Skyfall strained against the heavy latexine layers of imprisoning attire confining her form, those whom sought to rebder our resident mare of espionage firmly sealed away decided to lay a firmer foundation upon which to base their delusions of security. The subsequent stream of viscous rubber cement into a mare's cell rendered it squeakingly clear that if she didn't free herself soon, an inability to free her arms would be the least of her problems.