It was a reflexive sort of pride that flitted through Gellert's veins at the first comment--because he had, after all, always been rather unfortunately diminished in height--but he was quickly pushing that aside, refocusing his mind on the task at hand, refusing to linger overly long on practical irrelevancies. Gellert's expression did not thaw in the slightest as he said, "Sixteen." And then he was taking a small step closer to the other man, an advance that was not without its subtle threat, though Gellert was privately quite certain that this stranger was tall enough to destroy him in hand-to-hand combat.
"You still have not answered my question," Gellert said, his frown deepening. "You will understand if this situation appears suspect to me. I have been taken from my own time and place and brought here--to a town in which my magical abilities have been repressed, my belongings nowhere to be found, a town in which I know no one besides the man who has thus far done nothing but make accusations, comment about my height, and inquire as to my age."
Gellert allowed his gaze to very briefly travel down the man's form, taking in as many details as he could. He was wearing long sleeves, though they'd all been offered a shirt with shorter sleeves as well--the option that most here seemed to espouse, with the exception of Gellert himself. And this man. Whether that meant he was simply more comfortable in the clothing that closest mirrored that of his origin or whether it spoke of some greater degree of modesty or traditionalism, Gellert could not yet discern. He seemed rather uncomfortable in the thin fabric and the rough blue trousers regardless, whereas Gellert doubted he'd be wearing these 'denims' very much once he finished sewing his first project on the job--a set of clothing that resembled a bit of a cross between what he'd worn in 1899 and what people wore here--but he was not exactly uncomfortable in them. The man had also chosen to grow his hair out long, and to continue maintaining it even at such length with great care. His nose was too long, and looked as if it had been broken at least once--interesting, as a wizard could so easily fix such a simple trauma as shattered nasal cartilage. And the man seemed to be in the habit of staring at people as if he wanted to tear right into their minds. Perhaps an accomplished Legilimens.
"It is clear that you know me," Gellert said, once his eyes had returned to the other's once more. "If you would be so kind as to afford me the same privilege...."