Stutely chuckled, charmed by the kid's straightforward conviction. He remembered that age, before they learned what embarrassment was, before the world taught them to mind their words, when they announced every thought that entered their heads with blithe confidence, and every thought they had was bloody golden. (He remembered a freckle-faced six-year-old barrelling into Robin's legs from behind and demanding to be made a Merry Man, and the smile faltered.)
He'd opened his mouth to reply when another figure moved in beside the little girl, bringing with it that indescribable looming sensation that always seemed to accompany immortals in his mind, the nagging feeling that the person he was looking at was somehow far larger than his eyes were telling him.
Still crouched before Ella, Stutely craned his neck back to gaze up at the woman. After the way he'd built her up in his head, she looked startlingly down-to-earth. Attractive, yes, but not in the sharp, gilt-edged way he'd been anticipating. Her eyes were a warm brown and her smile was without pretence, and her hand was outstretched toward him.
Slowly, belatedly, Stutely rose and shook her hand awkwardly with his left – the right still being bound up in splints. "Uh, Will. Will Stutely. Hi."