He tenses as she approaches, expecting violence since it had apparently been headed in that direction. He'd already decided that if she did, indeed, decide bolting the fuck out of him was the answer, he wasn't going to stop her. Hell, maybe the week or so out of commission would somehow dull some of his own sharp edges. Maybe he'd be lucky and they'd take away his ability to feel. Who knew.

But when she stopped, talked, that made him stay quiet for several minutes more, with only the uncomfortable rustling of his own wings the only motion.

"Then do me a favor and don't start a conversation like this assuming I didn't think it through--or at least give me credit that I made the attempt to do so before things went to shit. I have no problem with admitting I made a mistake; I just don't appreciate someone preemptively making that judgment for me, all right? Just talk to me."