is this a better size difference?

Once more, Wilder is startled by the sudden appearance of Oleander. His fur bristles, ears flying backward as he twists around to watch the haughty boy saunter on over to them. Wilder has to do all he can not to roll his eyes at the words that bubble forth from the healer's mouth. Though he wasn't a slave, he was still an Apprentice and probably should respect those of higher ranking. Probably.

He isn't surprised though at how fluidly Oleander moves about the infirmary and slides into the healer role. The boy had done it upon their meeting and he had noticed it when being toured around the Armada lands. "Yeah, yeah," Wilder grumbles as he takes Oleander's lead and moseys on over to the bundle of furs that the boy points at. Laying down into a more comfortable position that is at a better height for Oleander to work, he attempts to be as still as possible. But the questions are plaguing his mind.

"Why'd she do such a thing? She ain't all that bad unless she really is a murderer," Wilder comments, vermilion gaze moving to look at Vesper as she sinks back into her bedding before glancing back at Oleander. "You ain't tell me to call you sir either so what's up with that?" He questions, brow raised, gaze once more flicking back toward Vesper. What was the deal with this girl? A boy like Oleander really had her shrinking back into nothingness as if he were the Warlord?

WILDER