[Only today. The shadow shows on his face briefly, there and gone again as light might pass over a surface of glass — refractions scattered, rainbow-colored, some slight fluctuation in the guise of Harmony that masks his true appearance from the woman's eyes. It makes sense, then, why she would shrink into this corner at his side, choosing what would seem the least threatening individual out of a crowd of self-indulgent elite. It doesn't make him feel any better to hear it.

To Sunday's eyes, her wings aren't so small, though they've seen better days: tattered fabric and cheap plastic, strung to the wire that holds their shape. Fake. Such a poor imitation there's no way to deny its reality.

If they were in Penacony, would she have real wings? Softly feathered, slender, pale... like his sister's.]

I'm afraid I don't know the rules of this world, or how exactly they would honor your loyalty if you do well. [It's painful to say these words. He regrets them almost as soon as they're out of his mouth.] ... But, if I were you, I wouldn't give up.

[His sister never had, no matter the obstacles she faced. She flew further and further away.]

Stay here as long as you'd like. I am... also new, so I don't have any expectations. How long until your shift ends?