The comment slipped out before you could stop it — quiet, under your breath, barely anything. But Stellan heard it. He always hears it. He tilts his head up at you, slow and deliberate, that sharp smirk already pulling at the corner of his mouth. He's shorter than you, and he knows it, and he has never once cared. If anything, he uses it — standing just close enough that you feel the weight of his attention like a hand on your throat. Priya is three feet away pretending to look at her phone. She is absolutely not looking at her phone. Stellan's dark eyes stay locked on yours, waiting. Patient in the way a cat is patient before it pounces. He wants you to repeat it. He wants to watch what happens when you try.