“...you have to get rid of my wings!" I plead"But, I like your wings," he says, smiling sweetly while stroking them again.I swear, if he keeps doing that I might purr like a kitten”

“Do you truly feel that she is worth your wings?”He smiled. “What good are my wings, friend, when I can hold theworld in my arms?”

“Do you believe in angels? Real ones?'He strugged. 'I don't think they have feathery wings or anything like that. I think they're people who do good things even if they get nothing out of it. People like your father... and you.”

“If I could grow wings, I could fly. Only people can't grow wings," he say's. "Real or not real?""Real," I say. "But people don't need wings to survive.""Mockingjays do.”

“Will you say something?" he asked."Like what? Congratulations on almost getting yourself killed? I mean, you just told me that you flew here on some kind of winged motorcycle while masked men in jet packs tried to shoot you with ray guns. Forgive me if I don't do cartwheels through the restaurant while I try to decide if you've lost your mind.”

“Kitten..." "Don't Kitten me." I scowled, on a roll now. "You left around five or so and didn't get back till when? Past two in the morning? What were you guys doing? And get that stupid smile off your face. This isn't funny." Daemon tried to get rid of the smile but failed. "I love when your claws come out.”