why can't you want me like the other boys do?

There's the sound of footsteps entering the room, clipped with military precision, and the low thud of the door as it swings shut again.

For a few seconds, Jade simply observes the man in front of him. Heine looks like a stranger when he's tied up like this, his red eyes hidden and unable to slouch, unable to fidget. The only thing familiar about him is his shock of white hair, and even that seems faded, blending in against the white walls of the room.

"Heine Rammsteiner," he says at last, circling to stand behind him. "Do you know why you're here?"

He's had his doubts about taking Heine in from the start. He doesn't seem like the type to be a mastermind; more likely, he's simply an unwitting pawn, the attack dog pointed to a target and let off its leash.

Still, he can't be allowed to continue roaming free. If nothing else, imprisoning him here keeps him out of the way.

As footsteps approach, Heine has to work to not flinch. With what little leeway he has, he squares his shoulders and lifts his head to the level at which he'd be able to look someone of average height standing in the eye. He reestimates when he hears the voice behind him, and then rethinks it again.

Jade. Heine turns his head partway before facing front again. This isn't the kind of work he'd expected Jade to do, but it's not unsuitable. He'd been good enough at interrogating Heine about banal things that he isn't wholly surprised.

Except that it's Jade behind him. Someone he knows. Someone who knows too much about him.

Eventually, he answers the question. "No." It's the truth. "I don't know."

He wishes he could see. All he can do is tilt his head in the direction of Jade's voice and breathing until he speaks again.

It's the answer Jade had expected.

...But it's also the answer Heine would have given whether or not it was the truth. That's just a basic tenet of their occupation: give away as little as possible. He spends a brief moment wondering if Heine is trying to play mind games with him, but quickly dismisses that possibility. Heine is too straightforward a person for that.

For the moment, Jade simply continues putting pressure on him. He'd like to get a better idea of Heine's mental state before they continue; solitary confinement can affect people in unexpected ways. "Surely you must have some idea."

Idly, he curls his fingers against Heine's neck, feeling for the beat of his pulse. It's an intimate gesture, one entirely unsuited for this kind of setting. An attempt to throw Heine off-guard, spurred on by the memory of Heine's rather...extreme reaction to having his neck toyed with.

He's been tied up for hours, and despite the training he's gone through for interrogation techniques and preparation in case of capture, he can't help getting stiff and sore. Heine holds himself still while Jade talks, mouth drawn into a tight line.

The fact that he only has a faint idea of the reasons behind his capture isn't helping either. Though his "parents" are high up in the agency and in the public sphere, Heine has long since left their immediate control. Their orders come through a chain of command, and he doesn't know why he kills any of the people he does. They're just targets, some person unfortunate enough to be on the wrong side of the agency and important enough to warrant termination. Maybe he doesn't have enough useful information, and they'll just kill him after they figure that out.

Heine almost shakes his head in response before he feels a brush of contact against his skin. The proper reaction is to stay still and not flinch or show weakness, but he can't. Heine turns his head away quickly with a sharp inhale.

It's been a long time since he's had any contact. All they'd done after capture was kick and punch him a little, barely worse than what he'd get from some practice rounds. And though he usually avoids contact on purpose, being unable to see and being shut up in this room for so long has him shuddering at even the brush of what he supposes is Jade's hand. Tied like this, shoulders and arms bound to the chair, he can't move away any further. After a moment, he makes himself relax as much as possible, though his breath is still coming roughly.

"...I have no idea," Heine says after that awkward pause. "Like I said."

A reaction. Jade keeps his hand there for a beat, just long enough to take in the rapid pounding of Heine's pulse. Experimentally, he tightens his grip - then lets go, just as quickly. His gloved fingers trail along the line of the scar that circles Heine's neck.

"Your heartrate increased," he observes in a low murmur, as if he didn't know the real reason for it. "That's generally indicative of a lie."

This room really is too white. He can barely see the scar, silvery-white against Heine's equally pale skin. Jade stops when he reaches the nape of Heine's neck. His fingers rub slowly up and down, feeling the bumps of the vertebrae.

Of course his heartrate increased. Jade knows he doesn't like his neck being touched... which is probably why he's doing this to him, Heine thinks, and tries not to outright swear when what doesn't feel like skin closes in a grip around his throat.

"I'm not lying." He speaks slowly, trying to slow down his breathing as well.

It doesn't work. Heine stiffens in the seat, bowing his head and trying to strain forward and away from the intimate touch. "That's not going to make me talk."

"So you do have something to talk about." His grip shifts, tightens, going from something gentle to something vaguely threatening. He's just toying with Heine now (even though he probably shouldn't, but he can't bring himself to even feel vaguely guilty about it); he doubts the man actually has any information worth torturing him for.

Still, he can't simply let Heine go. He has his orders: find out what he can, then keep Heine secured until this whole thing is over.

"Tell me, who is meant to be your next target?" His voice is deceptively calm.

"Well, I have questions," Heine mumbles, trying to distract himself and failing. That's Jade's hand closing over the back of his neck. Heine takes in a breath and holds it.

Next target. Well, that's a question he can answer, but Heine doesn't—and shouldn't. He keeps his mouth shut for a moment before replying. "I'm not going to tell you."

This would be easier if he didn't know his interrogator, and if his interrogator didn't know him. Jade already knows too much about him, even if it's only through their weekly arrangement. Heine figures he should just do what he's meant to do when faced with an interrogation: give nothing away and wait for extraction. (Most of him doesn't expect an extraction, but he won't talk anyway.)

Ah, finally, some concrete information he can pry out of Heine. That's a start.

"How about an exchange?" Light and conversational, as if they're discussing the weather - or if they're discussing how best to tie Heine up and stretch him open. Jade uses the same tone in every single one of those situations.

He smooths his fingers along Heine's nape, gentle once more. "I'll answer one of your questions, if you answer mine."

Heine manages to get his breathing back to approximately even, but he has to concentrate on that rather than any kind of planning. He doesn't have many options right now; he'd tried to get rid of the bonds, but it's currently impossible.

The blindfold could be wrangled off, but not right now. He manages to keep himself from stuttering or moving as Jade runs a firm touch over the back of his neck this time.

But it takes him a while to process Jade's offer. Too long. Heine doesn't reply for even longer.

"No thanks," he mutters. "I don't need anything from you."

A moment of silence. Then:

"I see. What a pity."

His hand leaves Heine's neck. He adjusts the bindings, loosening them a little (almost enough that they could be removed, but not quite), then smooths some folds out of Heine's shirt, just so he can run his hands along Heine's torso, feeling the tension that stretches through his body.

Then he leaves. It's hours before he returns, accompanied by the sound of rolling wheels as he pushes an instrument cart into the room.

Heine almost exhales when Jade's hand leaves his skin, but manages to keep that down. It's when the touch returns, along his wrists and ankles, that he tenses up again. He would kick, but there's no use. He can feel that the bindings are a little looser, but waits for Jade's footsteps to fade and the door to close again before he tries to remove them.

It's useless. Heine could've guessed that already. At least he has more space to shift around now. When Jade returns, Heine's slumped over to one side, trying to ease the strain on one hand and work the blindfold off by rubbing the side of his head against his shoulder. He doesn't freeze when Jade comes back, but just settles back into his seat and turns his head toward the clatter of wheels and something slightly metallic.

Heine's escape attempts are predictable, but Jade lets out a put-upon sigh anyway as he tightens up the blindfold again, then the restraints.

"I'm amazed you haven't toppled the chair over already," he says conversationally. "I thought you would have spent the past few hours trying to escape."

As if he doesn't have a surveillance system set up in the room. He knows what Heine had been up to, and it isn't particularly interesting. He wonders how long he can hold up: no food, no water, no external stimulus - just long hours of boredom interspersed with short visits from his enemy.

Heine stays quiet for longer, this time. It's been at least a few hours since Jade's first visit, and there were a few hours between his containment and that initial interrogation (if it could even be called such). By now he's thirsty, a little hungry, and all too aware of his body and mind's limits. They're taught about their bodies and shown how much they can stand by hands-own experience. If he's here for much longer, willfully separating himself from the situation might be the best option left.

He's already caught himself drifting off and not paying any attention to his surroundings more than once. Keeping up concentration for the entire time is impossible, even if he should be doing his best to find weaknesses, some opening to escape—but as far as he knows, there are none. The loosening of the bindings, he's now sure, was just part of Jade playing with him, the same way he did in those unremarkable rooms week after week.

The comparison isn't reassuring in the slightest.

Heine doesn't say anything for a moment longer; his throat feels too dry to work, suddenly, when he becomes aware of how his tongue sits in his mouth. After that pause, he replies on a different subject.

"What'd you bring me?" He tilts his head in the direction that he'd heard the rattling stop at.

"Oh, this and that." The reply comes immediately, the blandest non-answer he can think of. It would take more time, hours, days, before the effects of imprisonment truly set in. He'll do what he can to speed the process along, which involves being as unhelpful as possible.

Though it is a little difficult to gauge what would work best on Heine. His neck aside, he's rather passive. Accepting of his circumstances. Self-defeating.

He'll need to take advantage of those qualities. The only question is how. Perhaps by portraying this situation as hopeless? It'd take time, but that's the way of things.

"Are you ready to talk?" Jade asks, conversational once again. "Or shall we keep wasting time?"

...he shouldn't even have asked. Heine nearly rolls his eyes under the blindfold.

"I can talk and waste your time," he replies, lifting his chin a little. He guesses at Jade's position for where to turn his head. "Get both out of the way."

"You're doing quite a good job of that already," he remarks dryly. "But go ahead. Keep talking."

He takes a step back, then another, turning to face his instrument cart instead. There are vials there, labelled only with numbers, but he knows what each and every one of them does...sort of. Most of them are still in experimental phases. He's been given permission to use Heine in order to refine them, but the idea doesn't sit well with him. Something like this isn't what a moral person would do.

Still, sometimes it's appropriate for extreme measures to be taken. He supposes this is one of those times.

"I don't have anything to say." But when Jade fails to do anything else, he continues regardless. "I know you want information, or whatever, but on what?"

Heine shifts in his seat and tries to make himself comfortable. It only half-works; an attempt to slump down just hitches his shoulders up and strains his hands. Huffing, he moves his knees a little instead, widening the part. He's sore all over, he needs both food, drink, and probably a bathroom trip. And he's bored, a fact he successfully uses to distract himself from his likely execution and disposal for the moment.

Jade pays no mind to the creak of the chair and rustle of fabric as Heine shifts around. He's not going to be able to break free.

With practised movements, he rolls up one of Heine's sleeves. There's a pause as he slips on a pair of gloves, then he's swabbing at Heine's skin with an ethanol wipe.

"Have you forgotten already?" He talks as he works, his tone never changing. "I'd like to know who your next target is."

That's a familiar feeling. Heine's arm twitches, and he pulls in a long slow breath.

"No. First you asked if I knew—" Already he's imagining the needle pressing into his skin. It won't hurt much, but the very idea of something foreign entering his body in that manner is repulsive. "—if I knew why. I was here."

Heine sighs lightly, annoyed at his own faltering speech. "Which I don't, because I don't even know who I'm supposed to kill next."

This, at least, is a lie, but Heine delivers it without any more uncertainty than he's already displaying.

Just from that, it's difficult to determine if Heine is lying. It differs from what he implied before ("implied" being used in an extremely loose way here), and he already expects Heine to be lying. That's the way of things.

"Hmm."

He picks up one of the vials. With a smooth motion, he transfers the liquid into a syringe, and presses the tip of the needle against the skin of Heine's upper arm.

"Last chance," he says, calm as ever.

Hearing Jade move around, Heine grits his teeth for a second before forcing his body to lose tension. It all comes back when he feels the sharp pressure on his arm.

He breathes out. "No." This is bigger than him—even he can admit that, and he thought he'd die when... she did.

Heine lets his head hang down and evens out his breathing, focusing in, but there's nothing to think about but the prick of the needle on his skin.

"Oh well." He really does dislike doing things this way (though he notes Heine's unease with some curiosity). With one deft movement, he pierces Heine's skin, pushes the plunger down, injecting the solution into Heine.

It's...distilled water. He's just toying with Heine.

Heine isn't so finely tuned to injections that he can tell that. Still, all he does is press his lips together and not move. He's not sure what to expect—pain, unconsciousness, death?

Nothing happens immediately, but that doesn't mean he doesn't expect effects later on. He also doesn't want to ask, so that means just sitting in silence and waiting for Jade to act.

It's incredibly frustrating. Inactive as he may be usually, at least then he had a choice.

"It'll take some time for the effects to kick in," Jade lies, straight-faced. He has to admit, he's having fun with this. It appeals to the mischievous side of him, the side that enjoys trickery and little deceits.

But this isn't a game.

But why not make it one?

"In the meantime, is there anything I can do for you? Some water? A chance to stretch your muscles?"

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