[She doesn't miss his wince and it draws a soft chuckle from her as she leans carefully back in her chair, sipping from her tumbler as she watches him.] I'm afraid I'll have to take your word for that at the moment. I haven't met enough yet to make an accurate judgement.

[Then again, other people tended to be infinitely more trusting than she was, when it came to things like that.

Natasha didn't miss the glance he cast her wings - still visible behind her over the top of her dress, the feathers pitch black except for the very tips, which were stained a dark deep red, looking like they'd been dipped in blood. The first time she'd come across her reflection, she'd stopped and stared for a good ten minutes and she still wasn't quite sure what to think of them. Wings, for god's sake. At least she hadn't sprouted horns and a forked tail to match.

His were hidden, of course, but she could still see the outline of them, tucked under his shirt. It was a difference she noticed on everyone she'd encountered so far. Just visible enough to catch her off guard every time with the unexpectedness of it.]

Did I miss something in my history lessons where waking up one day with wings was a thing in your time? [There is gentle teasing in her tone as she peers up at him from beneath dark lashes.] War of the Worlds seemed real enough, or so I've heard.