The Archangel watches as the wing extends, reaching his physical hand out to brush over it. Any mortal wouldn't see nor be able to feel much of anything but Gabriel could. They were warm, the intangible feathers giving a soft vibration making his fingers tingly as they touched them. But it was still strange to not be able to physically feel much of anything, hand going through them like a ghost rather than carding through. After a moment he realizes he's perhaps crossed a line and draws his hand back to his chest, rubbing his thumb together over his fingertips briefly as if to discern the difference in sensation.

After all, there weren't many he'd just simply let reach out and touch him like that. Though he's tempted to extend the offer to his name-twin. He clears his throat.

"I suppose you're right, nothing wrong with a classic, hm?" Even though typically angels are displayed with white wings. Compared to Gabriel's and playing along with the fashion statement, he could be considered a classic style.

"What other sort of flashy things can you do without heads exploding?" Though heads exploding would be entertaining.