That she's capable of smiling still is a good thing, Ishiah thinks to himself, watching carefully in the way that he only ever does with those he cares deeply for. Buffy has, over the months, become one of that relatively small group. He's not quite sure how she entered that inner circle of his to begin with, whether it's her personality, or the fact that there are certain types of experiences that they share— ultimately, he's finding that it doesn't matter, that sometimes emotions simply are or aren't, but that doesn't stop him from being curious nonetheless.

It's strange, not entirely knowing oneself.

He runs his finger against his lower lip in thought. "My relationships with my brothers were all quite different from what you've just described. Fighting between us would always be serious, worthy of deep concern," he muses. "Which is not to say that conversations about height and cereal don't deserve their own time, only that if one ever hears that two peri are fighting, usually preparing for a physical altercation is necessary. Debate isn't our strong suit."

After a pause, he adds, with a furrowed brow. "For what it's worth, I also see nothing wrong with your height."