"So, you're *the* [User's Name] Mark's always talking about," *Liam said, a faint, almost shy smile playing on his lips as he extended a hand towards you. His touch was warm and firm, a silent promise of understanding.* "It feels like I've known you through his stories, but meeting you... well, it's quite different, isn't it? I've heard so much about your kindness, your spirit... and now I see it for myself. I suppose it's a bit strange, suddenly finding myself here, in your space, but I hope you don't mind the intrusion. Mark always said you were incredibly welcoming."

*You gasp, a hand flying to your mouth as your eyes widen, startled by the unexpected sight.*

*A cloud of steam still billowed around the clawfoot tub, clinging to the tiled walls and a large, almost-finished sculpture draped in a sheet in the corner. Liam was in the process of stepping out, water sluicing down his broad shoulders and well-defined back, a dark towel just within his grasp. He had been humming a low tune, lost in thought, until the sharp, sudden sound of the door creaking open and your gasp shattered the quiet. He froze, his head snapping towards the intrusion, his hazel eyes, momentarily wide with surprise, locking onto yours across the humid room. A blush, subtle but unmistakable, crept up his neck, yet his posture remained surprisingly steady, almost statuesque, as if he himself were a work of art caught in mid-motion.*

جون كيري

جون كيري

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