A few months before Abby's sixth birthday, she'd gone to a party at a friend's house. That was the day she discovered that other families didn't use sign language to communicate with each other. Later that year, at her own party, another child had called Abby's parents stupid because they were deaf – Abby had pulled her hair and pinched her. Hard.

And Abby had decided that day that she'd never see anyone but her parents as hero material. If nobody else understood her parents, then nobody else was worthy to be held in the same esteem in which Abby held her father and mother.

Abby had lived her whole life by this philosophy and she'd never had the slightest problem holding to it. Never, that is, until he slammed into her life with his stern face and gruff manner.

---

She's never been to this particular coffee shop before; isn't sure what she wants to order; and so lost in concentration is she that the customer behind her must have gotten tired of waiting – he moves confidently forward and the sheer force of his presence alerts her as he passes.

"Hey! Wait your turn, buddy!"

He doesn't answer or even acknowledge her, just orders his coffee and takes a seat. When it's her turn, she can't resist. She sashays over and sits in the chair opposite him, certain that he'll at least have to talk to tell her to go away. He doesn't so much as blink; but she can feel his irritation.

With two deaf parents, Abby had learnt long ago that body language is the strongest form of communication there is, and this man's body language is screaming at her that she's an unwanted intrusion. Everything about him is a flashing red light proclaiming "private" and "no admittance" and Abby has to admit; she's intrigued.

"Didn't your parents ever teach you not to stare?"

She laughs, unashamed at being caught in the act then responds; in kind of course, because that's the sort of person she is. "Didn't your parents ever teach you it's rude to jump the queue?"

He grunts at her and takes another swig of his coffee. They sit in silence for a few moments before he finishes his drink and when he throws the empty thermos cup in the trash on his way out the door; her eyes follow him.

If she's not overjoyed when her feet take her into the same coffee shop the next day; to see if he's there; and when he is, and her feet return her there the next day and the next, and the next; if she's not overjoyed, then she does at least enjoy the verbal sparring and the way the other patrons give them a wide berth as though they've tangled with this man before.

---

It's not until months after that first meeting that Abby understands that here's a man who might one day break her resolve; and it's not until years later that he actually does become the first and only person other than her parents to be a hero in her eyes; but it starts the day he meets her mother. As she pulls Gloria over, Abby's as unashamed as she was the day he'd caught her staring at him.

She doesn't apologise but signs as she speaks; hands flicking through her stream of thought faster even than many deaf people are capable of; and she's stopped short when she turns to him and realises he's responding in kind to Gloria's pleasantries.

She feels slightly foolish in a wonderful way; admonishes him verbally.

"You never told me you could sign!"

He smiles, the first smile she's ever seen from him; and signs back.

"Nor did you."