Luke snapped up a fantasy book that look kinda interesting. It was one of those sword and sorcery things, with knights and wizards and a few fantastical creatures running around. "Should be good enough to kill a few hours," he said, finding a soft chair and getting comfortable.
The story was a pretty typical affair of a strong, handsome prince coming upon a kingdom with a dragon problem. Interestingly, the prince didn't seem to have a name, but otherwise was described with an attention to detail that Luke really admired. He was tall, standing at six feet and three inches, and quite broad shouldered: "able to sling a musk ox over his back," the book said. His sand-colored hair fell to his shoulders in tangled waves, framing a bearded face and dazzling blue eyes.
The nameless prince was making his way through town and talking to merchants when Luke started to get uncomfortable in his chair. He'd drawn up his legs underneath him when he first sat down, but he felt cramped, so he unfolded himself and stretched them out in front of him. Did they seem longer? It was likely just his imagination after having sat for so long. Likewise, he stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders--they were definitely cramped in this armchair, his shoulders wedged in between either wingtip of the chair. He had to move.
Luke stood and strode regally across the floor to a large sofa, stretching himself across its length and scratching his beard as he yawned, then running a large hand through his tangled sand-colored hair. Comfortable at last, he went back to his book.