Satisfied both by what Hector has said and how his voice has lost most of its quaver, Liam nods. He pulls his long, wavy blonde hair off of his back with one hand, drawing it over his right shoulder. He thinks, with a bit of regret, that it's a shame he's scarring valuable tattoo real estate just to console this guy. "I guarantee I can handle whatever you do to me, but it's better to be quick than not." He won't waste time here and tell him the specifics of how to hold the knife, or that superficial strokes were better than deep ones, hoping he can figure that much out. If he somehow couldn't... he supposed it didn't matter.

Well, then. Liam stands in front of a bare piece of wall, bracing his forearms against it - then leans forward, resting his forehead on his wrists, back arched towards Hector, but relaxed. He closes his eyes, taking a few slow, deep breaths, himself. "... There was a politician who was funded by slavers and lobbyists, who promised to enact laws that would allow industries to use slaves when working conditions were too dangerous for their regular staff. I assassinated him." He finishes his thought as though he were commenting on the weather, his soul not one ounce lighter for the confession. "Write that down." Assassination. That would be nothing short of a badge of honour.