Charlotte wished it was possible to laugh and scream at all the same time, to successfully allow her pain to taunt her captor. She only managed the latter, though. Her lips parted in wheezing gasps for air when the immediate pain stopped but the lingering agony afterwards drew on. The rebel had experienced hell at the hands of captors before, survived through it even when she believed her spirit broken. Now though? Charlotte didn't want to survive. Each time her body was pushed to the brink she willed it to tip over the edge into the nothingness beyond.

Was that her goal then? To antagonize the Imperial into making this all end? It was inevitable, after all. They wouldn't let her live, not after what she had done, what she had tried to do. She'd scanned the room as best as she could when they had hauled her in, searching for signs that her torture was going to be broadcast to the edges of the galaxy as a warning to any others who refused to accept the peace between Alliance and Empire. It had been too rushed, though, pain coming far too fast and the cursed containment field cast far too bright a light to see properly beyond. If Charlotte had made the decision, though, she would have kept this secreted away. No need to make new and accidental martyrs to a cause that was supposed to be over.

Her eyes cracked open and looked back at the Imperial woman. No. They wouldn't make that mistake. Again. She wanted to reach out with her curse to see if the other was just as cold to her core as Charlotte was. At least then she'd know how much trouble she was really in for and how slow of a death she had to look forward to.

"Y-" her voice failed her. She forced a swallow that came dry and made the bitter taste in her mouth all the worse. "Yep."

There was the laugh. Or at least it sounded in her head, the effect in reality was more a strangled ragged sound.

"N-not a-as much as we l-like fraking with you guys, though."

It took too much effort and her head fell forward again as her body shook with the broken laughter again.