Fixers do not come from wealthy households, Daan. They're born among, within, and around violence. Roland was no different -- if you ask, I'm certain he'd tell you the same. When my sister met him, he was an unpleasant man who wouldn't speak so much as a word to her unless it was to gripe, scold, or snark about whatever it was she or another were doing. A violent beast who didn't seem to care right from wrong, so long as there was meat dangling in front of him. My sister managed to tame him somewhat, I suppose, and taught him to speak -- the Roland you know now is a product of her care, gracious as she was in it.

[ A bit of tuning, then return to the piece he'd been making up. ]

When he's incited, though, he returns right to that beastly form of his -- why, he even killed the people he used to work alongside! His allies, who he'd done countless jobs with, who'd known him and my dear sister both. Not a single bit of hesitation in it, all for...

[ ... A soft laugh. ]

I shouldn't say, it hasn't happened to him yet. But I can say that if it's to alleviate his own sorrow, his own grief and suffering, he would most certainly drag the rest of the world down. I'd hate to see you caught in his downward spiral.