"I went to boarding school," he said. "I was nine. It was adapt or get molested in the shower rooms." There hadn't been any cases of such a thing happening, but Sparrow was certain that it could have gotten violent where there weren't prying eyes. And he'd been a small kid. "Anyway, it saved my life when I was seventeen."
He snorted and touched his own nose. "It's the nose. And the front teeth. The way the upper lip's shaped. Looks like a bunny. From the time I was seventeen until I was twenty-seven, they called me 'el conejito'. It means the bunny." Funny name for the drug runner and human equivalent of a pitbull. Nobody'd ever called the members of the cartel smart--at least not the ones he'd killed on his way up the ladder.
"Nice, flat surface. Off the floor. Better to see the door, just in case." He arched an eyebrow at her. "Just a thought."