Depending on how low the man crouches and how much he lifts, Styx might be in danger of being lifted off the ground by his shirt. How humiliating for an assassin. He grabs the man's arm and gives him a steady, irritated look. The other arm reaches for the knife but he's pretty sure he's not going to need it.

"Anything? Then let me go."

"And what on earth do you want?" Nobody's that helpful. What's the catch?

"If you think I can give you absolution you're wrong. I don't even work here."