That's alright. With your blood, we'll be able to properly mold you.

[ There's a glint in her eyes that says she's enjoying this, both his pain and his fury, and his complete helplessness in the face of all of it.

Oh, she'd never grow tired of watching men have their power stripped away from them. So small, in the end. So disappointing. ]

We'll go into that brilliant mind of yours and pluck away all the little things that don't matter to your work. When we're done? You'll be happy to give us all your little secrets, all your machines of war. You won't even remember why you refused in the beginning. You'll be happy.

And you'll thank me for it.