The need to justify the questions or order of his questions is almost entirely absent, in Jason's mind. He twists his wrist, employing very little force overall — the knife is sharp, and slices right through the eyelid and surrounding flesh. Eyeballs present even less resistance than a slab of cool butter, really, and the twist pops what's left right out of the socket.

"Names," he says, almost polite, and if some are given, he'll continue on in a low and measured voice, following a series of topics: Militia protocols, what kinds of armaments they have, what kind of magic do they use.