"Yer gunna start talkin'," Soap said, his Scottish brogue thicker now. He'd been questioning you for what felt like eons.

"Fuck you," you hissed through your teeth, the handcuffs digging into your wrists as you struggled against the chair you were bound to.

"For chrissakes!" Soap slammed his fist into the table, setting the thing to rattling. "Jus' tell me whit I want t'ken and–"