He struggles in response. He knows he won't be able to break free. What a ludicrous thought. But he needs to display defiance somehow. Somehow. The armsmen's grips tighten; the pain focuses him just a bit.
Did he notice? Did he see that I held back? Of course he did. The clone hopes fervently that the Butcher took it for simple fear, rather than weakness and sentiment. He stares up at him, glares up at him, and tries to twist his face into a leer of contempt. His muscles feel strained as he does, like they're holding an unnatural position. He can force that expression, but he can't force hatred...
"My mission is to kill you, Butcher." His neck strains with the effort of lifting his head off the ground enough so he can talk. "I'm not going to stop until that happens. So you should just kill me now."
Please don't kill me now. It's what he's supposed to say. The captured revolutionary has a script to follow, after all. But he doesn't really want it to happen. He wants to go free, wants to walk around Barrayar. Make peace with its people, get a job, find a family...
no subject
Did he notice? Did he see that I held back? Of course he did. The clone hopes fervently that the Butcher took it for simple fear, rather than weakness and sentiment. He stares up at him, glares up at him, and tries to twist his face into a leer of contempt. His muscles feel strained as he does, like they're holding an unnatural position. He can force that expression, but he can't force hatred...
"My mission is to kill you, Butcher." His neck strains with the effort of lifting his head off the ground enough so he can talk. "I'm not going to stop until that happens. So you should just kill me now."
Please don't kill me now. It's what he's supposed to say. The captured revolutionary has a script to follow, after all. But he doesn't really want it to happen. He wants to go free, wants to walk around Barrayar. Make peace with its people, get a job, find a family...
Stop. You have a mission.