Log: Seven/Liam
[It wasn't quite a run, more akin to a swift walk, but nevertheless he rushed. The smell of cheap vodka still lingered on his breath, but the talk, the words, they had been more than a little sobering. Seven's words echoed in his thoughts, bouncing around, careening off of one another erratically. And Liam rushed, nearly tripping over his own two feet as he pressed into The Bar With No Name.
His cheeks were flushed slightly from running, hair mussed, months past needing a haircut. He was hardly dressed for the occasion, plaid pajama pants and a dark grey t-shirt, but at least he was clothed. Blue eyes, still so striking, were sharp as Liam looked around, willing that familiar face to pop into view.]