[He watches her writhe, scream, but there's no satisfaction in it, not like usual. He lets it go on for a bit before reaching over and flipping the switch in disgust, turning everything off except the cell walls.]

Tell me the truth. [It's a demand, all of his good humour gone.] Tell me the truth and make it good, or I'll do it again, and just when you think you're going to die because it hurts so much, i'll turn it off. And I'll take care of your wounds and nurse you back to health, and then it'll start all over again.