Leto counted back the days from when he arrived. "I've just turned 18," he answered. It'd been yesterday, if he'd followed the days correctly. Running a hand through his still-damp hair, he gave the shell in front of him a glance. She was right, more right than she knew, about him, but the only confirmation he gave was a somewhat sad half-smile. Being pre-born was strange enough on Arrakis. He didn't know what she'd think of him if he told her the truth about what was inside him.
His mind was sketching out what she'd given as a description. There wasn't much to go on, but he tried anyway. With a glance toward the television set, he wished it'd worked to display her image. He knew better than to ask for her weight. That was a social taboo, even on Dune.
"That it would," he said, turning back and stretching out his arms at his sides. He gave them a speculative look, first the right arm, then the left, then nodded as if he'd confirmed something. "I'd definitely win the pillow fight." But he was imagining his arms around her instead. With a wince, he dropped them to his sides again.