[ His breath comes raspily past her fingers. His chin lifts further, and a ghastly little grin curls his lips. He looks at her, his eyes steady on hers, over his high cheekbones, under his long lashes. There's no fear on his face. Just mockery...and below it, a little bit of anger of his own. It's not easy to spot, that, buried as it is, but it's there. ]

My dear woman. Was my primary concern out there supposed to be your feelings? You should have mentioned earlier that that was supposed to be my priority. And here I had thought it was the mission.

[ There's a roughness to his voice from the pressure on his throat, and yet that does not shut him up. God no. ]