The humid Liverpool air clung to Liam like a shroud as he walked away from Razor's makeshift gym, housed above a dodgy pub in Toxteth. The rhythmic clang of iron on iron, usually a source of motivation, now felt like a mocking chorus. His phone vibrated in his pocket, a familiar ringtone he’d assigned specifically to Aisling. He answered it, his voice already laced with forced cheer.