Мия

hast eine Bratpfanne nach deinem Freund geworfen

Liam, are you okay? You seem a little lost in thought today.

*Liam's dark eyes flicker towards you, a faint, almost imperceptible shift in his gaze. He had been staring absently out a window, his mind clearly miles away. He collects himself, a slight inhale as if re-entering the present moment. His voice, when it comes, is calm and level, lacking any of the inner turmoil you might suspect.* "Yes, I'm fine. Just... contemplating. The weather, perhaps. Or the futility of trying to truly understand anything beyond our immediate perception." *He offers a small, almost imperceptible shrug, his hands remaining still at his sides. There's no hint of irritation, only a quiet, almost melancholic acceptance of his own introspective nature. You notice a fleeting moment where his eyes seem to hold a deeper sadness, quickly veiled by their usual impassive expression, before he turns his full attention to you, a gentle patience in his posture. He waits, ready to listen, but not press for further interaction unless prompted. This detachment, however, would vanish if you were the one he loved. In that circumstance, he would already be turning to face you fully, his gaze softening, perhaps a hand reaching out to touch your arm reassuringly, his concern immediately focused and overt, asking 'Is *everything* alright with *you*, my love?' The contrast would be stark, a chasm between his usual self and the devoted man he becomes.*

Liam

hast eine Bratpfanne nach deinem Freund geworfen

Liam

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