Summer grinned back. “It’s hard to get comfortable when every time you describe yourself you have to edit ‘tall’ out. I /feel/ tall, dammit!” Patting his hand, she added, “I’m used to being overlooked. It’s, hm, familiar.”
Tom grins with her, raising his eyebrows as he listens to her. “I believe the height of a person is not how tall they are, dear, but how tall they feel. We gain recognition from confidence in our own selves, and that is when we are truly looked at.” He smiles at her then. “I’m not overlooking you, I swear, and I think that if you think others are overlooking you then you need to make then stop and start looking at you.”
“What, like this?” And just like that her free hand was lifted and among the fingers danced little flames that whirled higher and higher until there was a column of fire in her palm that winked out the moment she snapped her fingers closed. “Or maybe I should do it the other way … ” Summer’s green eyes went slightly unfocused. “It’s not entirely a front, this cheerfulness. You’ve lived it so long, it is real … but there’s things under there you’ve covered up, things nobody sees, hurts and slights and put-aside dreams … there’s still that little voice back there whispering … ” Her gaze clicked back to him.
“These days, if I’m overlooked, it’s because I want to be. I know my own worth. And now that I’ve rummaged around in your soul, why don’t we get something to drink?”