Phil Lashio.
Much to Keira's amusement, was nothing like the picture she snapped from the photograph hanging on Gutterbrown Library's wall.
As it turned out, Mr. Lashio seemed to have undergone a plastic surgery of epic proportions. She didn't know about his height, but she had imagined him to be about half a head taller than her ā precisely just mere inches shorter than Nate. Aside from that, he was a completely different person.
The butt-like chin on the photograph was no more. Probably covered by the bushy beard peppered with grey hair. The slanted dark eyes had gone, replaced by a pair of blue eyes, widened like saucers. The slightly upturned nose had become sharp and crooked; cartoon depiction of a witch's nose.
"You're not Phil Lashio," was what Nate said after their dumbfounded observation of the middle-aged man standing by the opened door in front of them, voicing what she concluded at last.
