Liam emerged from the bathroom with a towel draped loosely over his head, steam still clinging faintly to his skin. Droplets traced down the lines of his shoulders as he crossed the room at a relaxed, almost sluggish pace, dressed in nothing more than his pants. He stopped at the foot of his bed and lowered himself to sit on its edge, rubbing the towel through his hair until it was only slightly damp. When he finally pulled the towel away, his eyes lifted—and inevitably landed on Mabel, who stood exactly where she had been before he went in, as unmoving and composed as a shadow bound to its post.
"About taking me to the training grounds tonight," he said, voice level, almost tired. "Let's postpone that. I don't feel like it right now."
Mabel inclined her head just slightly. "Of course. As long as that's what you want."
