The flight had done something to Liam that he was not going to admit to anyone but that his body was still processing an hour after landing.
It wasn't fear exactly.
More like his body had spent the entire duration of the flight running a quiet background assessment of the situation and arriving at the same conclusion on repeat, which was that human beings had no business being that far off the ground in a metal tube and that the people around him who were reading magazines and sleeping were either braver than him or had simply made peace with something he hadn't made peace with yet.
He had said nothing about this to Kelvin.
Kelvin had slept for most of it.
Now they were standing in the corridor of the hotel on the fourteenth floor and Kelvin was holding his luggage with the relaxed energy of someone who had done this many times and found it unremarkable, wearing a clean fitted shirt and trousers that had somehow survived the journey without a crease in them.
