I found him interesting to watch—the way the sun cast streaks of light through his hair as it fluttered around him, the way his many rings glinted with the scattered colours of the ceiling lanterns. Greyson was animated when he talked, all flailing limbs and short bursts of pacing before he froze for half a second, turned, and started again. It wasn’t unlike watching a bird strut around, squawking some random tune it had picked up in the woods.
