"I don't know." And that was the truth across the board; the wings, the spirits, the pieces and the words. He didn't know.

Her physical reaction confused him. He was too used to reading people out of habit, and every time he thought he'd gotten a handle on the signals, she changed them. Come here, go away, leave me alone, come back. It was the most fascinating, and frustrating, thing about her. He had no idea what to do with her, or with it.

He allowed his wings to twitch forward again, carefully, cautiously letting them tap against hers.

"The sentiment is mutual."

...Hadn't he just decided to not go this way?