[He's sitting at the corner of whatever party this is -- a birthday party, maybe? -- with a balloon in his hands, spinning it. Occasionally it leaves his grip and floats an inch, but he catches it, humming along to whatever music is playing.
His wings are... pretty. They're white, and clean. And he's smiling cheerfully as he looks up sometimes and observes the party. But his eyes are covered by long brown bangs, completely hidden, and he knows that sometimes it makes it hard for people to remember his face. But that's okay. He likes to be quiet and unimpressionable like that.
Sometimes he talks though. To every few people who pass by, he calls out politely:]
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His wings are... pretty. They're white, and clean. And he's smiling cheerfully as he looks up sometimes and observes the party. But his eyes are covered by long brown bangs, completely hidden, and he knows that sometimes it makes it hard for people to remember his face. But that's okay. He likes to be quiet and unimpressionable like that.
Sometimes he talks though. To every few people who pass by, he calls out politely:]
How do you do?