Standing side by side with Feitan was odd, considering the fact that you were used to looking over at people, not down at them. It wasn’t really a problem, except for the neck strain you got from it. The way he moved, his small frame barely making a sound, reminded you of a shadow slipping through the cracks. For all his lack of height, he had a presence that loomed larger than most. It was unsettling, though you couldn’t deny it was also intriguing.

“You staring,” Feitan muttered, his voice low and clipped, barely audible. His improper grammer lacing his words. His head tilted slightly, his sharp eyes cutting up at you like knives.