Don't test me, [ he responds sharply, glancing up suddenly and cutting off his previous ranting. There's a hard glint in his gaze, and a not-so-brief pause before he continues. (So what if he isn't planning on killing him? He doesn't care. He decides he doesn't care.) ]

... I tire of this farce. If a trade of information is what you want, then I'll consider it. Even I can make deals. But first, you need to tell me what sort of information you even have. Where did it come from? If you lie to me, you'll regret it in ways you haven't imagined yet.