Liam doesn't know. He must have performed the assassination and died soon after. Or maybe he's expecting something else. Maybe it's just that one could never tell the future. Everything cycles, that's what he was told once by the man the nuns told him not to speak to. Liam sounds at peace with his choice either way. He almost envies that.

He flinches like he might be struck or scolded for his weeping. Pitiful. Stupid. He can't take Liam's assurance. He shakes his head.

"I just carved into your back. We're in Hell and this is just the beginning . I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I did anyway. I don't... understand... I hurt you, that's not fine, even if it means we hurt less, even it's the better option, that's not..." His hand rises up. He means to cover his eyes but in doing so, he gets some of the blood he spilled smeared further on him.

"Oh god," He groans, and he all but throws that bloodied knife to the table in disgust. It clatters but doesn't fall off. He turns from it all, and Liam, pacing a moment. It takes a little bit for him to collect himself but when he does his voice is dull.

"My list is there. I don't care what you choose." He starts shaking off his charro jacket, then begins to work on the buttons of his own shirt. Better not to look. He's already ashamed enough.