"Wow, York, that's the cheesiest pile of bullshit I've ever heard." Marco folds his arms and gives her a disappointed stare, as if it's somehow her fault he's going to be short until he dies. Of course, if she knows him well enough, she'll hear the same good-natured sarcasm that he only reserved for people he's decided are alright. "You ever think about writing scripts for daytime television?"

Suddenly, he snaps his fingers with a sudden revelation.

"I've got it! The other guy, you said he was in a war, right? It must have been the stress. The stress stunted his growth, and that's why he never broke the five foot glass ceiling. Okay, from now on, I will only have a relaxed, stress-free life, with no alien invasions, people shooting at me for no reason, math quizzes, or girls turning me down for dates."

He laughs ruefully and looks around at where they're standing. Yep. Stress-free living.