Go quick. He can... he'll try and do that. He's not hearing any special tricks though, nothing that makes this into the painless effort Liam promised. It just looks like a man determined he can tough out anything in the world, like a hundred other men, but never him.
And then the story begins. He freezes in place for a moment. It's not a shocking concept. Politicians were too often like that. He knows, without knowing the details or specifics, that terrible things became of many of his ancestors. He knows that some politicians wouldn't care the slightest bit what happened to him, not enough a Spaniard. He's not sure he can blame Liam too much for a crime like that. But, regardless, he knows that he is so, so very out of his depth. Between the lack of emotion and the blunt confession of murder, he lacks any idea what to say.
He takes the knife and brings it down. The first bloom of makes him falter, drawing back on instinct as the wound drips. He catches his own hesitation and quickly mumbles out an apology. He works on the rest of the letter, and the ones after that. He's not the one in pain, it's terrible to be blinking back tears, so he tries instead to ask, "Did it help? Did it make a difference?"
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Go quick. He can... he'll try and do that. He's not hearing any special tricks though, nothing that makes this into the painless effort Liam promised. It just looks like a man determined he can tough out anything in the world, like a hundred other men, but never him.
And then the story begins. He freezes in place for a moment. It's not a shocking concept. Politicians were too often like that. He knows, without knowing the details or specifics, that terrible things became of many of his ancestors. He knows that some politicians wouldn't care the slightest bit what happened to him, not enough a Spaniard. He's not sure he can blame Liam too much for a crime like that. But, regardless, he knows that he is so, so very out of his depth. Between the lack of emotion and the blunt confession of murder, he lacks any idea what to say.
He takes the knife and brings it down. The first bloom of makes him falter, drawing back on instinct as the wound drips. He catches his own hesitation and quickly mumbles out an apology. He works on the rest of the letter, and the ones after that. He's not the one in pain, it's terrible to be blinking back tears, so he tries instead to ask, "Did it help? Did it make a difference?"