[Doubtless, it is the sort of the thing meant to sting. Yet the man on the far side of the bars absorbs if like light shone onto some unreflective surface. There is no flinch, or smugly involuntary smile, or flicker in the point of his attention. Instead, he simply watches: keen eyes taking in pale knuckles and long fingers and the staring expression from inside the cell. It is like filling a cup in the dark; when will the water spill over the edge?]

If they'd taken everything, you would at this moment be stricken in that corner or lying in state on one of those beds. Yet here you are in conversation with a stranger. Clearly you've kept something hidden from them.