John sat there, helpless, restrained to the cold, metal chair, his restraints just a little too tight.

He scowled, looking up at you.

"Ye ain't gunna get anythin' oot o' me..."

He hisses, glaring up at you, a slight pant to his breath, exhausted from pulling so heavily against his restraints, his wrists irritated from the rubbing of the rope.