Height Difference = 1'3" (Esme)

[Feivel Silverstein]

Feivel used to hate grocery shopping. When he'd lived in Baltimore, and Orlando before that, and St. Louis before that, he'd only ever shopped later at night, and with his wings folded back and under a heavy coat. But in Pilot Ridge it wasn't unheard-of for someone to have a pair of iridescent wings, so he could go out with them unfolded. (Which meant his back wasn't nearly as sore.) He could even shop in the afternoon. So he was actually pretty happy to be walking through the grocery store. Or he would have been, if he wasn't getting text messages every other minute from Gideon, one for each new kind of junk food he decided they needed.

Giddy was getting his Poptarts and Lucky Charms. He'd have to be happy with that.

After the seventh text, he decided he'd get some soda as well, just to shut Gideon up. He turned into the soda aisle and scanned the shelves for whatever was cheapest. Store-brand cola it was, then, or it would have been if there wasn't a very short woman standing in front of them. She was stretching up for a bottle on the top shelf, and she wasn't going to reach it. "Excuse me." With a slightly smug smile, Feivel reached over and grabbed the bottle, bringing it down to her level. "Here you go."

[Esme Bakus]

Esme strayed away from sweets as best she could, mostly because obesity ran in her family and extra weight wasn’t something her compact, curvy form would really handle without snapping in two. But there was one thing she occasionally like to treat herself to: Stewart’s Key Lime soda. It came in little four packs, so it was easy to regulate, and it was the best dessert at work or at home. She hadn’t had any in a few months, and was looking forward to drinking one after dinner.

The problem? It was a specialty soda or something…and was always shelved at the tippy top of everything. Even worse? It wasn’t in easy to snatch four packs, but one big bottle, almost impossible to get down without grasping the neck. For a moment she peered up at it longingly, her almond-shaped eyes blinking slowly. Could she reach it? Or did she not bother to try and just go get help? Why, oh why hadn’t she worn wedge heels today?

Scuffing her pink converse against the linoleum, she took a deep breath and stood up on her tiptoes, stretching to her full length to try to get to the soda. Her fingers barely brushed the edge of the shelf. Sticking her tongue between her teeth and screwing up her face a bit, she hopped slightly to try and reach. She let out the breath heavily and dropped back down to flat feet, only to almost bump in to the stranger who pulled down the soda for her. She took it gingerly, glad that her dark complexion could hide the hot blush, even if her smile betrayed her embarrassment. “oh. Hey…thanks.” She said, a tinkling laugh bubbling out of her throat.

She had to look almost straight up to see his face. Though his face was pleasant, it certainly wasn’t the striking thing about him. The urge to simply utter …wings was strong, but Esme had seen stranger things. She let her eyes flick to them briefly, more in admiration than any sort of discomfort. Esme recognized them immediately, and actually had to bite her lip to keep from gushing about how impressive they were and how she’d never seen anyone with wings like a Blue Morphos and how impressive those butterflies were anyway, let alone basically attached to an enormous human.

Then again, none of those things really seemed very tactful.

[Feivel Silverstein]

Feivel wasn't really a junk food person either, but Gideon was, and sometimes he'd just give in because it was easier on him than listening to his little brother whine. (Yes, they were identical, except for the wings and the glowing, but Fievel was seven minutes older, and he was clearly the firstborn.) And if it meant he got to play the hero to a pretty woman, that was a nice plus.

The editor stepped back to avoid her bumping into him, and grinned down at her when she turned around. "Oh, it's no trouble. Easy way to get my good deed of the day in." He didn't catch her glance at his wings, but he was used to them being the first thing that people really noticed about him.

If she had gushed about his wings, she wouldn't have been the first. Though he'd never had someone recognize them by a particular species of butterfly before, he'd had plenty of girls (and a few guys, to his discomfort) comment about how pretty they were. But having pretty wings usually wasn't enough to keep their interest long, because it was much harder for him to pass as a regular human.

But her tact was appreciated, and Feivel held out his hand to her, "I'm Feivel Silverstein, by the way."

[Esme Bakus]

Esme tittered again, shifting her weight from one foot to the other nervously. “Yeah, I’m used to being the good deed. Just wish everything was a foot shorter sometimes!” she chirped, flicking her hair over her shoulder by tossing her head. “Then again, I can’t be a good deed if I’m not in distress or whatever soo….” She trailed off awkwardly, shuffling her feet again as the silence hovered briefly.

She blinked at his hand for a moment, marveling at how huge they were before she gasped and jostled the bottle of soda into a more comfortable position, thrusting her hand into his.
“Oh my god. Sorry. You’re just…so, so tall! And huge. In a good way.” She laughed, astonished with what an air-head she was being as she shook his hand. “Sorry. I’m Esme Bakus.” Shaking his hand normally at first, Esme slowed down as she suddenly realized…

“Wait. Silverstein…Feivel….Are you in the papers?” She asked, realizing her hand was still holding on to his. Esme withdrew it quickly and grinned absently. “I think I read your column, if you are who I think you are.”

[Feivel Silverstein]

"Oh, don't do that." Feivel put on a tone of mock-concern. Though it was obvious she was joking, lowering everything by a foot would make things more difficult to him. "If cars were a foot shorter, I'd need to buy a convertible. Or at least a car with a sunroof." He barely fit into the car he owned now.

There was a small voice in the back of his head that made a snarky comment about just how huge Feivel was. Strangely enough, it sounded just like Gideon. "It's okay, and thanks, I think." He kept smiling as he shook her hand, because at least it was better than, "Wow, you're tall," which was one he got a lot. Funny, how people seemed to think he didn't know that already.

He dropped his hand as well and nodded down at Esme. Feivel was impressed that she read his column, and that she apparently found his name important enough to remember. (He was always surprised when he heard a woman read his column. Particularly a woman who was so...tiny.) "F.M. Silverstein, writer of The End Zone column, top shelf reacher, and Assistant Sports Editor, at your service. Three years in Pilot Ridge, and this was the first time anyone had ever recognized him by his name. It felt kind of good, like he was a celebrity, or at least like one of those guys who got to report on camera.

[Esme Bakus]

“At least your feet would reach the pedals!” Esme replied, raising her finger and pointing it at him. “and you would have a good excuse to buy yourself a fancy car.” And besides, wasn’t that what all men wanted anyway?

“You’re welcome, I…think.” She screwed up her faith in thought. Had she inadvertently insulted him? She hadn’t meant to. She was used to men who were good heads and a half over her, but Feival was just as tall as he was broad shouldered and generally bigger than she. She didn’t suppose the wingspan helped. Esme was glad to see he was at least playing it off when the subject turned to what she’d suspected.

Snapping excitedly and nodding, Esme grinned from ear to ear. “Yes. That’s right! Oh my god, how cool to actually put a face to the column.” She wedged the bottle of soda against her hip, shifting her weight slightly. “I didn’t know you were the Sports Editor, too. That’s really impressive.” Esme commended. “My family is really in to sports, but all the brothers have different once.” She giggled, rolling her eyes. “If I want to even bother to keep up at reunions, I’ve got to at least try to know the basics.”

[Feivel Silverstein]

"Yeah, I suppose they would." He nodded, but he'd honestly never really considered that before. "That's not something I've ever worried about. Reaching things." Of course, he was just kidding around. "My concern is usually with fitting somewhere." Cars, airplanes, that ridiculous cave where Gideon worked, Esme probably never had to worry about hitting her head on a particularly low doorway.

Feivel had to smile when she screwed up her face. Esme seemed nice enough, and he didn't actually mind people commenting on how tall he was. In his eyes, that was a plus, and anything was better than snide comments about his wings.

"It's good to hear I have an audience. My family isn't too into sports. I don't think my brother even knows the name of my column." The tall man chuckled and shrugged, causing his iridescent blue wings to flap slightly, then asked, "What's your favorite, then?" He knew how it felt to try to get into something just because his brother liked it. He'd stopped trying years ago.

[Esme Bakus]

“I bet.” Esme agreed, once again wondering if she was being totally offensive. Social graces were not her thing, and they were especially not her thing with cute men. Cute tall men. Ugh. “I don’t know how you tall guys find shoes!” She chirped.

Esme's eyes grew big; her favorite? “Wow. What a loaded question!” She said, laughing nervously. She had to try quite hard not to turn the discussion straight to the etymological implications of his wings…it was probably rude. “Uh. I think I’d say hockey. I really like hockey.” Esme said, laying one hand over her heart. “Vancouver’s my boys.” She pointed out cheerfully. “But if there is a sport that exists, I have a brother or an uncle or a cousin that is into it.”

Having totally forgotten the time that would be needed to make herself dinner, Esme tilted her head and pressed on in the conversation. “You have a brother?” she prompted. “I have four.”

[Feivel Silverstein]

Feivel had been pretty certain he'd heard every Holy crap you're tall. line there was. He was used to it. But the shoes comment made him laugh out loud. It was both new and completely accurate. "It's not easy. But at least decisions are easier to make when there's only a few styles out there."

"Hockey?" Somehow, it didn't really surprise him. When he couldn't guess right away what someone's favorite sport was, it was pretty much always hockey. "I'm a Threshers fan, even if they're in Winnipeg now. Other than that, all my favorite teams are in Atlanta." He hadn't actually lived in Georgia since he was thirteen, and training for broadcast had helped him obliterate almost every trace of his old accent from his speech.

"Yeah, Gideon. Well, him, and two half-brothers and three step-sisters, but they're a lot younger than Gid and me." Neither he nor his twin were close to their other siblings. After all, their parents had divorced after they'd started at Hammel. After that, there was college and traveling and work, and he'd just never gotten to know the others well. "And growing up with just one brother was a lot. I can't imagine four."

[Esme Bakus]

Esme blushed sheepishly when Feivel laughed, but managed to push it away with a clearing of her throat. He seemed amused at the least, though she hadn’t intended to be funny. She supposed she could relate, seeing how impossible it was to find clothes that both fit and flattered her stacked frame.

“Atlanta?” Esme repeated, looking at him skeptically. “You’re a southern boy?”
He didn’t sound the least bit southern at all. But no one claimed all of their teams from one city without some attachment. Unless they were nuts. And Fievel hardly seemed like the crazy one out of the pair of them.

She nodded slowly as he explained his family dynamic. Her family had always been close, but she was often slightly alienated from her older brother and cousins. Especially the ones with families. “Gideon and Feivel. You guys have some really strong names in your family.” She mused. Esme shrugged slightly. “I’m the youngest and the only girl, so…I dunno. I guess I got a bit of a free pass, being spoiled a bit.”

[Feivel Silverstein]

Shoes weren't actually the most difficult thing. The hardest piece of clothing for him to find were shirts and coats, because he had to have them specially made, or altered to allow his wings to go through.

"I am, but I've been living other places most of my life. Always going to be a Braves fan, though." He grinned and shrugged, then did his best imitation of his twin brother's speech, "And I can still pull out the accent when I need to." Despite years of suppressing it, the drawl still felt pretty natural on his tongue.

No one ever called Feivel a strong name. Gideon, certainly, but not Feivel. Most people only knew the name at all from those cartoons about the mouse. (Why yes, the Silversteins had owned the American Tale movies on VHS when the twins had been younger.) "You're spoiled? That's a bit surprising. You seem pretty down-to-earth to me." He smiled, and yes, Feivel was flirting, but only a little. Esme not only liked sports, but read his column. And she was pretty. Of course he was going to flirt. "After all, you like hockey."

And that gave him an idea. He pulled out his iphone and quickly checked something, then grinned again. "You know, there's an exhibition game at University of Vermont this weekend. My press pass is good for two people, but I never have anyone to go with. Would you like to go?" Maybe it had something to do with being tall and (admittedly) good-looking, but Feivel had never had trouble asking women out.

[Esme Bakus]

When Feivel slipped back into the drawl, Esme clapped with the delight. Narrowly avoiding a squeal, she giggled slightly. “Wow that’s crazy. Did you just pick up the northern accent? Or did you get rid of it on purpose?” She asked, wondering if she was keeping him from something. That would be wretched.

“Down-to-earth because I like hockey?” She questioned, giggling quietly. She was obviously flattered by his comment, and more obviously flustered about it. “Ah…Well I’m the only girl in my family. So I got a lot of clothes and dolls and things when I was little because no one had a girl to spoil.” Esme smiled at her shoes, choosing to keep her nickname a secret for now.

Blinking curiously at him, Esme tilted her head. When he asked her to head to a game with him, Esme’s eyes lit up. With a little hop of excitement, She gasped. “Uhm, Yes!” She said emphatically, grinning widely. “That would be so amazingly cool. I’d get to see you work and everything.” Arresting herself, Esme sheepishly quieted down. “I mean, I’d love to go with you. I’d hate to interfere or anything, though.

[Feivel Silverstein]

"Well, I've been living up here for a while, and that helps. But I studied broadcast journalism in college, and I trained it out. It's harder to get a job when you've got a drawl." He shrugged, flapping his wings again. The bright blue wings were more of the reason he couldn't get a job on-camera, more than the accent or anything else. But he could still write, at least, and no one cared about them then.

Feivel grinned when she agreed to go. (Okay, so maybe part of the grin was because she literally bounced with excitement.) "It would be nice to have some company." And like the good reporter he was, he kept a small notebook in his his shirt pocket. He pulled it out and scribbled down his phone number, then tore it out. "Do you live in the area?" Probably, as she was grocery shopping there. "I could pick you up for it, if you want. Here's my phone number."

He wanted to stay and chat, but just then, his phone buzzed again. He knew without looking at it that it was Gideon, calling to ask why he wasn't home yet. "Oh, excuse me," he pulled the iphone out of his pocket, then shoved it back in after confirming it was his little brother. "Sorry about that. Gideon is very good at calling at the wrong time."

[Esme Bakus]

“They do that?” Esme asked with wonder. “Wow, that’s so interesting. I’ll definitely have to ask you more about that. I mean, I went into hard sciences, so all that neat broadcast-y stuff is really foreign to me.”She tilted her head, and using all of the social graces with which she was endowed (read: zero) she asked: “How come I haven’t ever seen you on the air?”

Real smooth, Esme.

She took his number almost as if in a dream, resisting the urge to squeal or fist pump or something. “Uh…Oh! Yes. I live quite close. A ride would be great. I’d probably get lost on the way to the game and that would be really annoying of me, huh?” Esme patted down her person for a pen. “Do you want my number? Or can I just text it to you?”

Esme bit her lip and nodded. “I understand. I should probably let you go anyway.” She said with a big grin. “It was so good to meet you, and I’m really really excited for the game!”

[Feivel Silverstein]

"Yeah, they do. Broadcasters get trained in the bland Midwest accent so we don't offend anyone. People from Boston think people with Southern accents are stupid, and someone from Georgia won't trust someone who sounds like a New England elitist." His grin wavered slightly when she asked why she'd never seen him on the air. He considered just making something up, but it wasn't like he could hide he was a meta.

If she lived in Pilot Ridge, changes were she already knew a few.

"Well, there's a bit of a glass ceiling for metas on the air. I mean, I wanted to go into sports journalism, and that's not exactly the kind of subject where it's encouraging for a man to have..." He shrugged, flapping his wings again, but more intentionally this time.

"Text it to me, and I'll give you a call later this week to confirm everything." Once again, Feivel, smiled his charming smile, then held out his hand to shake hers. (Wow, her hands were so small.) "It was lovely meeting you, Esme. See you later."