On Steven Watson

He was a steadfast guardian of all he held dear. An appraising look at the approach of a challenger. A dismissive smirk if he found you wanting; a quiet laugh when you measured up. If you didn’t get distracted by the long eyelashes, you found he had clever eyes, the sort that could pierce you down to the depths of your soul. I daresay I made it a point not to test him too often.

A warning: find your place with him.

For me, though, he was a warm, murmured greeting to anyone who walked in the room. Assuaged anxiety. Unless you pulled some truly heinous trick, it was impossible not to feel welcome in his presence. If he counted you among his friends, God help any of your enemies who came looking for trouble.

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