"Wrong, and you know it," Cortin said calmly, beginning the examination that would tell her where his flesh was most sensitive and thus most vulnerable to her persuasion. "You will perhaps tell me less than I wish, but you will tell me as much as you can."
He jerked away as she probed a dark bruise over his ribs. "Like hell I will!"
"We shall see." Cortin hid a smile, a bit surprised at herself. She'd noticed a little of it last time, but it seemed to be getting stronger: when she conducted an interrogation, she adopted Illyanov's speech patterns—perhaps as a reaction to the prisoner's crudity, perhaps as a tribute to her teacher, she didn't know, and it didn't really seem to matter. "I think that before too long you will be most curious as to the information I want, and you will be increasingly eager to give it to me. When you do, I will release you."
She was pleased to see the prisoner starting to look apprehensive. He still had his defiance, though. "You damn servants of corruption never let anyone go! So why should I believe you'll start with me?"
"I did not mean that kind of release, as you should know, having been a trooper yourself. I meant only that I will release you from your pain." She explored further, identifying areas of promise from his sounds and flinching. It was a temptation to relieve him of his genitals, she thought as she reached them, but that would be short-sighted; from her own torture, as well as her studies, she knew them to be capable of some of the body's most exquisite pain. No, she would leave them where they could be of the most use—right where they were.
For Shannon's reaction: [4a. Reaction]
Odeon watched in revolted fascination as his Joanie stripped skin, with precise delicacy, from the screaming renegade's hands. He'd expected her to go after the plaguer's manhood in retaliation for what had been done to her, but—except for a couple of times he'd been lying so obviously it was an insult—she had left that alone.
When she finished her subject's hands, Cortin stepped back to study him. She had discovered quickly that his personal horrors included being skinned alive, so that had become her primary tactic against him. It was slow—enjoyably so, for her—and it was working very nicely indeed. "Have you decided to cooperate yet?"
"Damn you, Bitch!" The renegade tried to spit at her, without success. "Do your damndest—you won't get nothin' from me!"