The corner of his mouth flicked up in a half-smile at that. "Some things don't change," he responded in turn, his voice still warm with that soft Southern drawl that he hadn't been able to get rid of in the three years since he left home. "Other than the hair," Liam started a moment later, "you seem the same as well."
He turned on one bare foot, watching the approach to the bed, the pause as though asking for permission. Nothing was granted, not yet though. Wings shuddered, stretched for a moment before settling once more against the damp skin of his back. "You can sit," he finally said, a gesture with one hand, and he turned away to the tiny mini fridge that sat on the dresser. The seal of the door gave way and he pulled a bottle of water out, cracked it open and took a sip.