God, lookit you. You're so pretty like this.

[His voice is soft and a little awed; the hand on her wing strokes through the feathers again, soft and soothing (?). That feather between her legs maintains its pace, steady flicks that would have been firm if they were applied with anything but a feather]

Guess it's about time we got outta here, huh?

But before we do... you mind if we do one more thing?