Icy eyed the flimsy apparatus that Lone Star had assembled and called a flamethrower. It looked liable to fall apart at any minute, and... was that some kind of sticky fluid clinging to the metal pipings? She tried not to think too hard about that. Aside from the fact that the flamethrower appeared to be more dangerous to the user than the target, there's also the small fact that beneath her cold exterior, she still had a heart. And that heart did not approve of actually torturing a mare. Ruthless as she may be, she preferred to keep things clean. Either let her go, or give the enemy a clean, honourable death. None of the messy stuff with pain and suffering.
She shook her head. "Enough. She's not going to talk. Let's just put an end to this and move on." What exactly she meant by "an end" was up to Lemon Chiffon and Fox to guess.
B-but I already did the creepy flirty thing! We can't skip the flamethrower after the creepy flirty thing! Besides, it can put her out again when she starts talking!