Most of his family was on the shorter side, and so Mehmet was never especially surprised to be the shortest man in the room. Or great outdoors, such as it was tonight. His brows furrowed when he saw not one, but two live men – and without anything less lively between them.

Oh goodness. Was he going to kill the sod right here?

“Mister … Mortland,” he repeatedly, haltingly.

Was this some sort of test? His brow furrowed in a cringe. Mr. Mortland here seemed like a perfectly normal fellow, for all the twenty seconds he’d known him.

“... You like, uh, pushing daisies?”