Re: Lakeside dock: Liam R/Lear L
Visitors were rare. Occasionally, he'd hear a set of footsteps in the grass, snippets of conversation carried across the lake by an errant breeze. But not often did anyone take notice and actually address him. He was perpetually on the edge, here but not, a specter that the world passed by. So when words were spoken, loud and close enough to be directed towards him, Liam turned, sunken cheeks and fog-grey eyes, blue lips frosted from the cold.
"Pardon?"
He was a polite thing, even in death, and though he had had his share of encounters with those on the ruder side of the spectrum, he tried to keep his politeness at the forefront. "No. I'd rather not. My apologies." He didn't rise, instead turning to look back over the lake, right leg swinging from the edge of the dock, a cold breeze picking up to rustle wet hair.