"Point. On the map. To where the base is," X'ym's soft-spoken voice drawled in your ear.

The handcuff chaining you to the desk chafed against your wrist. The interrogation room was dimly lit and smelled of blood and rust. It was probably the fifth time the elven officer had asked you that question since you woke up here.

This is what you get from trying to make friends with a shady elf. Fucking Tha'ndgrul.

There was a pause. You had a hard time seeing the man's eyes under the brim of his uniform hat, but a quick glimpse of unnatural blue was all you needed. There was an air of tension about him, like one more denial from you and he'd lose his mind. And you were already questioning how much of a mind he had.

"I've been criticized in the past," X'ym whispered, sitting across from you, "for being too vague. So perhaps I should word it differently. Give me your hand."

You flexed the fingers of the hand not restrained by cuffs. You hesitated to hold out the limb, seeing the various sharp objects on the counter behind him. His quiet voice and soft smile belied a cruelty that only an officer of the Elf Imperium could have.