Liam's shrug was mild as a spring day, a bare lifting of the shoulders as he fetched ice and pretended at keeping busy rather than studying his brother with too-intense gaze. He was a fixer, was Liam, a solver of other people's problems (rather than his own). But when the issue at hand belonged to a man who circled back into Liam's own neglected hang-ups? Simplicity flew out the door along with the half-dozen people he'd banished but minutes ago. He held on to the appearance of remaining disaffected with everything he had, fingernails dug into brick and bone hard enough to hurt.
"Well, then." Deep breath in, calm voice out. 'How'd you find me?' could wait, when Jamie was sitting there all stiff-backed and scowly, the edge of a pouting Fit Liam could recall, but hadn't dealt with in ages. He went through mindless motions of ice-water-whiskey like a man who'd spent too much time on the wrong side of a bar, and if he knew that he was watering down his baby brother's drink, then Liam didn't acknowledge as much.
"What's your next move?" And when Jamie's glass slid across the table to him, Liam watched with no pleasant smile but instead an open, guileless curiosity. Just how real that was remained to be seen; they may've intentionally crossed paths the once annually, but Jamie hadn't known his brother since childhood. Not even the affection and obligation which came with sharing the same flesh and blood could knock Liam Ward straight into emotional honesty.