‘Napoleon.’ ‘Shut up,’ I laughed. ‘Rude,’ he squeaked. ‘Wait. You're serious? Your name is Napoleon? As in, the tiny tyrant who had small man syndrome and a world domination fascination?’ ‘How do you know these things about me, géant?’ he asked with suspicion as we zoomed across the dusty dirt floor. I swallowed a chuckle at his distrustful personality. ‘Just a good judge of character, I guess.’
