In that all-too familiar setting that has completely dominated the greater part of this game (we're sorry about that), Sark has gotten desperate... ( ...... )
It may have been fourteen hours when Thane comes back in, looking over all the other prisoners, taking in the specific texture of the silence. He stops just offcenter in the room, nearer Sark than anyone else, not quite looking at him, not quite speaking. He flips open his wrist device, reading a general system output. Nothing important. He's just... waiting.
Bastard. There are no words to adequately describe Sark's hatred at this point, but it's equally matched with his fear, and it takes a special sort of person to manage that, and here Sark really thought no one could outshine McKenas Cole in those regards. Not that it matters. Thane's the one with the power and the control over this situation and no amount of hatred is going to get him anywhere.
...So he figures he has to stop glaring at some point and actually speak, even though speaking with this skewer in his chest is only a little more difficult than breathing. "Your intent at this point," he wheezes out each word slowly as if that'll take the edge off the pain a bit, "is to send a message to Torchwood, yes?"
"Then.." He starts, his breath hitches a little and dammit, it's hard to focus with God only knows how many inches of sharp metal sticking into you. He changes tact and gives Thane a look that might be considered pathetic, but he's not really trying for pity- it just sort of happened. "I'd be much more comfortable discussing this if you removed this... thing. It really isn't... Necessary."
Not that it was necessary to begin with other than it keeping him from figuring out a way to escape and not that he figures Thane really cares if he's comfortable, but if Thane wants him to present him with some proof of his worth, it would be nice to be able to talk without it feeling like someone's trying to carve their initials into his scapula.
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...So he figures he has to stop glaring at some point and actually speak, even though speaking with this skewer in his chest is only a little more difficult than breathing. "Your intent at this point," he wheezes out each word slowly as if that'll take the edge off the pain a bit, "is to send a message to Torchwood, yes?"
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"At the moment, yes."
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Not that it was necessary to begin with other than it keeping him from figuring out a way to escape and not that he figures Thane really cares if he's comfortable, but if Thane wants him to present him with some proof of his worth, it would be nice to be able to talk without it feeling like someone's trying to carve their initials into his scapula.
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