Violin.

It wasn’t often that Liu heard his leader play the violin. Solemn, beautiful notes, from the simple instruments seemed to calm Amon, especially when he was stressed.



One such occasion, Liu had been out collecting information on one of the local gangs, when he came home late at night to find his lover playing in the kitchen.



Amon had clearly awoken from a nightmare, clothed in just his pants, and skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. The song he played was slow and sad, as always.



Liu pushed his green tinted glasses up his nose and slipped his shoes off, walking in and leaning against the wall soundlessly. Amon hadn’t heard him enter their apartment, so he hadn’t stopped playing.



The way the masked man’s body moved while playing was almost enchanting. His fingers, normally light and gentle in his lover’s hair, moved fluidly over the strings. His powerful arms, able to disarm and disorientate a man in seconds, moved in such grace Liu had never seen before.



Like all good things, this special moment had to come to an end. Amon finished his song, and looked to his Second-in-Command.



“I’m glad to see you made it home safely.” He finally said.



“Of course I did.” Liu replied in the same nonchalant tone, knowing Amon didn't want to talk about it. “Shall I make us some tea, or would you like to retire to bed?”



“Tea sounds wonderful, thank you.”