And that gets Blaise's hand swatted away, hard enough to sting but not enough to do any damage. "Stop that."

He's . . . still talking. How can anybody talk this much? It's coming out in such a flood that he can hardly keep up with it and he just blinks, mildly amazed that someone can go on and on for so long. Doesn't this guy need to breathe?

"Fourteen." Because this bears repeating. Nevermind he looks closer to eleven. Stupid Echoes shrinking him and then slowing his aging to a crawl. "Not cute. I can take care of myself, I don't take anything from anyone, and do you even realize how stupid it is to make that offer after lecturing me about it?"

That should cover everything, right? Right.