Mick barely resists the urge to push his wing further into the light, exploratory touch. "Ain't nothing in this world like flying under your own power," he offers. "Can be murder on your back if you don't stretch them out once in a while either."

Wings are useful, but they also come with their own set of drawbacks. None of which he can think of with those long fingers following the arc of his wing, testing the sharpness of his claw.

"Y'got more power than your old man realizes. More power than most Tieflings I've seen." He had taken what he was and turned it into something more, made it his own and Mick admired his skill in that sort of determination.