“People who think that we’re different,” Syl said, “don’t know you either. They look at you and see a perfect soldier.” “What do you see?” “Flaws,” she said. “Wonderful ones. I’ve never known perfection, Kaladin, but I should think it boring if I did.” “I think you might be close.” “To being boring?” she said. “That’s … not what I meant.” She grinned at him, but then leaned closer. “I’m not perfect, Kaladin. I think our flaws are what make us the most similar. We’ve both spent far too much of our lives living for other people.” “Me for the bridgemen. And you … for me, right?” She nodded.
