The prisoner was injured, and therefor wouldn't be trying to escape or attack Thrawn. The dried blood indicated that his injuries were quite real, as was the blaster bolt wound. Even if he were to attempt an escape, Thrawn had his pistol on him, set to stun.

He entered the cell, looking at the rebel prisoner. That blood, it was certainly not human blood. It was indeed the wrong color to be human blood, and Thrawn was very familiar with that shade. For it was the color of his own blood.

The man was stunned to see him. But it wasn't the look of one who was scared, having been cornered by the dreaded Chiss Grand Admiral, wondering what he was going to do to him. The look was that of awe, almost reverence. Most unusual for a rebel.

"You know of me," It wasn't a question, but there was a hint of curiosity to his voice. If Thrawn was correct, he would have questions of his own.