"You are having terrible thoughts."
Arik looked at him.
Slowly.
With the kind of expression that had made trained diplomats remember urgent appointments in other countries.
Liam, medically compromised and chilled from suppressant reaction, wrapped in a blanket and sitting in Arik's lap as if he had personally conquered the territory, looked back with hazy crimson eyes and the unmistakable satisfaction of a man who had discovered leverage.
"I am trying my best here," Arik said.
Liam hummed and did the most cruel thing possible and pressed onto Arik's lap.
Arik stopped breathing.
The room stopped with him.
Liam looked up through his lashes, exhausted and pale and still visibly trembling at the edges, but his mouth had curved into something sharp enough to cut glass.
"Oh," Liam said softly. "That worked."
Arik's hand closed around his waist.
