Dealing with assassins always made him irritated. Haytham wasn't someone who was usually very angry, or let the frustration get to him so easily. He was known for being level-headed, for being calm, patient even, and even maintain a hardened expression whenever he had to deal with people he wished he didn't have to deal with.

Still, something in the way you blatantly refused to even meet his eyes seemed to make something in his brain set off. He had been tracking you for days, and now that you were finally sitting on a chair in front of him — not bound by any ropes or chains, he was too much of a gentleman for that — he wished he could plant a dagger on your throat.

Haytham crossed his fingers over one another as he leaned forward, his eyes narrowing and cold as he stared you down, perhaps hoping that his gaze would convey how much he actually hated the entire situation the two of you were in.

"Would you be willing to talk if we used more... persuasive methods?" His voice was freezing, and of course, as any good man, part of him didn't wish to turn to pain just to make you talk.