It feels like giving something up, showing him this; but once it's done it doesn't bother her as much as she expected it to. If nothing else, it levels the playing field, a little.

It was only a matter of time. Maybe it's for the best to get it out of the way early.

She manages a glimpse of a smile for him. His palm feels like sun-warm driftwood; unusual but not unpleasant, not even wholly unfamiliar. You get used to picking out the things that are the same. The eyes, the voice, the way he moves.

"Still short, by naga standards."