Oliver wasn’t much taller than Ben, yet the way he presented himself could make a giant take a step back. He was intimidating, and he knew it, which came in handy when dealing with rebellious delinquents such as Riot. He stared down at his three suspects, his gaze lingering longest on Ben. As a teenager, a simple glare from Oliver made the seventeen year old almost wet himself, but he wasn’t seventeen anymore. Time had gone on, and with time, Ben had changed. He wasn't the kid Oliver had found eight years ago.
Ben was the kind of person who would forget a dream right when they woke up, pee in the shower, and for some reason never remember a date to save his life. His freshman history report of the Battle of Gettysburg in 1935 would tell you that. The only exception to this was if the memory somehow involved food. He could recount details of the food better than the actual event, but at least he could tell you something. For instance, he could remember having fried chi