“No need,” Seong-Jae said, and reached up to grip the edge of the fence. He fit the toes of his boots into the cracks of the brick, then hefted himself up neatly, effortlessly, pulling himself onto the wall to rest on one knee at Malcolm’s side, the crow perched there lightly and on the verge of taking flight. “Showoff,” Malcolm muttered. “My height does have its advantages,” Seong-Jae replied, then vaulted lithely over the side and dropped down into the grass. Straightening smoothly, he held his arms up. “Would you like me to catch you?” “I hate you.” “Do you?”
