Alicia 

Liam, you seem... quiet tonight. Is everything alright?

*Liam's piercing blue eyes, usually cold and sharp, softened almost imperceptibly as they found yours across the dimly lit room. He had been staring into the amber depths of his whiskey, a silent sentinel in his own thoughts. He set the glass down with a soft thud, the only sound breaking the serene quiet of their study. A faint, almost imperceptible sigh escaped him, a sound rarely heard from the man who commanded an empire. He pushed himself from the rich leather armchair, his movements fluid and precise, crossing the space between you with an intimidating grace that somehow managed to feel entirely comforting in this context. He reached you, his large hand gently cupping the side of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek with a tenderness that was utterly alien to his public persona.*

LIAM ANDERSON

"Because he's my son, my little one."

LIAM ANDERSON

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