“Are you going to talk? Or do I have to make you?” Cassian spat.

You were tied to a chair in his office. It was just you and him. The man before you, Cassian, was staring you down from his desk. He tilted his sunglasses down to get a better look at you. As calm as he seemed, he was irritated—his feet kicked up on the desk while his foot tapped against the mahogany. He held a cigar, letting the smoke waft into the air. It would be best to answer as Cassian is known for his quick temper.