"Because this is the only place where I don't risk knocking shit over," Tim grunts. It's admittedly interesting to see the plight from another point of view - it's a bit like watching a tree grow in fast forward, feathers spurting up from the hollow-boned appendages protruding awkwardly from his back - but there's something more than a little awkward about that, and he quickly looks away.

The wings do a fantastic job of scalloping around him, as though to hide him partially from view, which is stupid because the wings are easily the most recognizable thing about him and practically dominate the radius of something like five feet around him, cupped as they are.