"Whatever happened to the spirit of common charity?" he asks in response, his smile growing broader even as he presses his hand to his heart in a sort of mock-wounded gesture. Shot right through the chest, that's what you've done, he tries his damnedest to communicate. "We poor flashes have feelings too, you know."

Then he leans against the wall behind him, languid as anything as he examines her. "You're not a local, are you?" he asks. "You're missing a certain...something." He demonstrates what that something is by stretching his hand out, palm-down, and making a pressing-down gesture. Height is what she's missing. That's the one.