Something. Experimental, I suppose. Just watch this one.

Watch your step.

Interrogation is in their blood, and they do it well, but I cannot be broken, because there is nothing to break. They can hold only the threat of death over my head. The sharp knife of it grinds against my throat, invisible manacles trailing chains. Their gazes are intense, but at least they aren't unexpected. I don't think I could deal with that. I am not, however, going to say anything. I have nothing to say. They can't make me tell them. Whenever you give in, my master used to tell me, no matter the circumstances-

The guard hauls me to my feet and frog-marches me back to the cell.

Whenever you give in, it's always your fault.