She asked questions that made him think whereas everyone else seemed to do everything in their power so that he wouldn't. He was a knife bared, a bullet in the chamber while the trigger was pulled, but he was only allowed to think on the mission objective. His mind was supposed to be clean of impurities, things that would cloud his judgement or make him hesitate. He wasn't allowed to be anything but what they made him and when he was, he was treated with brutality and ground to the studs again.

His head snapped up, and he rose from the chair quickly, gaining his feet with deadly grace. He still held his spoon, but he rolled it along his fingers as one might with a knife. "Yes," he hissed softly. "I remembered sometimes, hints here and there and then there was only pain. Order comes from pain, and when the chaos of my mind got too much, it was reordered with pain. Electricity, the water baths, knives..." Torture until he behaved. He learned to avoid the torture but early on, he was victim to it more often than he wasn't.

He issued a soft huff through his pursed lips like a bull snorting before a charge. "No, I wasn't awake long enough for more than a high-protein shake. It tasted a little like vomit. My purpose was never to enjoy; it was to do as they ordered."