Crystal takes one of Bis’s hands in hers, and the other hand wanders up his arm and to his face. Careful to not poke him, she feels his features. “People just tend to treat me like I am made of glass after they find out that I am blind, that my gifts are somehow inhibited by it. As long as you do not treat me differently, then I will be fine.” Color dusts across the cheeks as she pictures his face depending on what she feels.