Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-32701432-20170308181230/@comment-26854056-20170325182947

Liam flinched slightly, surprised at how ruthless a calm man could be. Instinctively, he pulled out a small pistol out of his waistband, pointing it at Harvard's head as he spoke in a forced levelled tone. The situation that they were in was tense, the raw hatred around the two was suffocating, neither one of them daring to speak until Liam cut through the silence.

"I'm not going to fucking fight you over this, '450. If you can't handle the truth, then so be it." He walked up to him, bravery, or more likely, foolishness surging through his mind as he tossed the gun to the floor. Grabbing him by the collar.

"Ask him if you don't fucking believe me. Under his bag are the life insurance papers, medications, funeral home reservations. He has fucking PTSD and trauma over a murder, Harvard. What do you think would happen when he sees the next dead body is his own brothers and that you were the one to cause it. It was your fault then, it is your fault now, and it will be your fault when he finally dies."

He pinned him up against the wall, repeating the same phrase that Harvard heard from Leon in his nightmares time and time again. And to be frank, the fact that they looked almost exactly alike didn;t help.

"HE HATES YOU. I KNOW HE DOES." He slammed him into the wall again, fury in his eyes as he started to become even more aggressive "HE. FUCKING. HATES. YOU."