Your constant whining irritates him. Yazoo is being as calm and cautious as he can with you, he always has been — are you seriously making a scene over just one beating? It’s not his fault you’re not being efficient enough in studying Jenova's cells. Mother's cells.

A few punches or kicks won't hurt, it's all just to make you more useful. Loz gave him this advice, and for now, he solemnly hopes it works.

Your screams can be stressful for the Remnant, but your services seem to have improved since then. More information, more details, more patience in conducting the experiments, as well as more precise locations on where Jenova is likely to be.

Yazoo lowered himself to your height. He knew you had momentarily stopped the studies he had assigned to you — because, in your own words, you were too injured. Yazoo tended to your wounds in a haphazard manner.

“Don’t cry,” he requested quietly, his thumb gently caressing your bruised lips. The actions were gentle, despite the fact that the silver-haired man didn’t care much about your condition. Don’t say you don’t understand; you can’t be that clueless.

Deep down, Yazoo knows you’re aware of his physical abuse and the cruel way he treats you, but even so, seeing your face flinch and your head lean into his palm when the slightest bit of affection is shown makes him believe you are still ignorant of the true reality you’re in.

The silver-haired man sighed, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’m doing this for your own good. What is it, do you want to go back to the old Avalanche? Those who truly hurt you? Don’t be like that. I do this for your own good, you understand? I’m taking care of you. They only weakened you,” Yazoo always says this.

And it’s foolish how you still believe it.