<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#ff9999">Honey colored eyes found their way to the blade, her body twitching despite her best efforts to try and get away from the knife, tightening her stomach muscles in response to the cold of the blade touching her skin. She would have to steel herself for the hours to come. Conserve her energy. Spies and assassins of dimir were trained for such things, mainly because of interrogation, so they would not give up valuable information. In this case, it was her voice he wanted, her cries. And it would take all her training to resist him. When he’d retired from the field he’d chosen interrogations as his new area of expertise, and even when he didn’t have official business, he liked to practice, just to keep his skills, and blades, sharp.</span>