Corporal Bridgeworth rounds slowly upon you and fixes you with a hard, appraising frown. It has a great deal of intensity behind it- although you get the feeling that if he were merely to turn the spigot of his bile slightly further, you'd truly have a withering stare upon you. You conclude that for all rights and purposes, you're seeing a watered-down version of the glare he uses with new recruits.
"I would tread carefully, Master Cymmeiian," says the Corporal with a steady, firm tone. "Your words border on extortion... and you can be certain that this civil servant shall tolerate nothing of its like."
After a time, though- perhaps more than you're comfortable with- Corporal Bridgeworth's expression softens slightly, and he clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. "However, I am not without a sense of pragmatism. Should the office of the Duke be presented with matters of... similar inclination in the future... we shall remember your name."
The corporal folds his hands against the small of his back and leans forward expectantly. "And now, good mortician, that 'important information' you mentioned?"