Her lips quirked again, and she stood. "alright then, it has been decided. The Pizzeria it is!" She waited for crow to join her, eyeing him from behind the safety of her glasses-- but kept her thoughts to herself. Even if most she stumbled upon sleeping out in the cold were unfortunate, not all were homeless. She'd met a handful who didn't very much like being thought of as such.

"I-if you do not mind me asking, what is it like having those?" She gestured with her hands, wiggling gloved fingers as her (poor) version of wings.

She'd only ever known a few people with wings, and never on a personal level. People on TV, in movies, ect. Part of her had always fantasized that those with rather angelic looking mutations were perhaps closer to god. Even if it wasn't true, it was at least more pleasant than her current philosophy about all mutations.

Sloth, who was suddenly flooded with Andrea's overabundance of curiosity, decided to lean in and check out said wings for himself.

PIIIIZZZZZZAAAAAA!

Stay together stay together stay together no racing off as fast as his little wings could take him.

Breathe. Don't slosh the tea on bouncing off the bench. Oh, a shoelace came loose. He started to crouch to fix it, only to have Andrea speak. "Hm? Oh, them?" He flexed his wings in confirmation and smiled. "Total pain trying to wear more than pants or trying to fit anywhere, good for balance, otherwise completely useless! Last time we tried to fly with them we nearly broke one. Off work for a week. Not fun." He grinned but extended one for examination while he crouched to deal with his shoelace. Darn it, the sheath was about worn through. It was probably going to snap soon.

He glanced up abruptly, feeling something brush against his wing, and smiled at the curious snake. Straightening, he reclaimed his tea and turned neatly to present both wings to Andrea and her snakes. Staring idly off into the distance, he spread his wings to their full faintly-iridescent extent. "What do you think?"

"...beautiful." She breathed, reaching out to touch one of the extended wings gently.

They were indeed pretty, too. What she could see of the color scheme, even in various shades of grey, were patterned nicely. She idly wondered if they-- the... birds?-- that he was apparently made of did it on purpose... or if it had happened on accident.

Shaking herself before she started staring at him, she tugged Sloth back before he could investigate further. (or get himself in trouble) "You are like ángelos... like Michael or Uriel." Smiling sheepishly, she scratched at the back of her neck and sipped at her coffee.

If ever there was a time she wished to feel something, it was now. His wings looked soft and feathery. If wishes were Horses, though.

Instead of dwelling on it, she turned instead to what he'd said before. "I know how hard it can be to find proper clothes as well, though.. surely not to the same extent as you. But... if you would like, I have found a very quaint little that is willing to tailor clothes for those of us dearly in need."

She started walking now that his shoe was taken care of, careful to time her steps to his.

Crow fluffed his hair sheepishly and turned back. "Hardly! We're just a couple of carrion birds stacked together. And aren't angels supposed to have white wings?" He smirked, flicked them once to emphasize the difference in colour (even if his skin bore both white and black), and folded them. Before they set off, he snaked a foot under the bench and fetched out his stick. Couldn't leave it behind!

Someone... who tailored for mutants? Was it even possible to make clothing he could wear with wings? He'd spent years alternating between cramming his wings into things for warmth and just not wearing shirts. Backwards coveralls were the best he could he could manage right now. He scratched his head as they walked. "Is that even possible?" His wings twitched. "They don't really fit through things. We did have time to experiment at one point. All this -" he gestured at the bench they were leaving behind with his stick "- is pretty recent. Had some misfortune and needed to relocate. Figure it's a pretty common story around here."

He rolled his shoulders, still stiff and sore from his nap but gradually loosening up. "You really think there's a way to wear clothes with these?" he asked after a moment.

"Angels are certainly depicted as white winged, but I think that falls largely on how people have visualized them. Lucifer is often shown with black wings, for example, because black is often associated with evil. White has just been used as a sign of purity and holiness." She eyed Crow's walking stick curiously, fiddling with her empty cup.

"Obviously there are a lot more colors than white and black though. I do not see why they could not have spots, or stripes, or red wings for that matter."

Pausing to consider his question, she thought back to the few conversations she'd had with that tailor. "Well, I do not see why he could not fashion something for you... I mean, if you took a jacket and added slits down the back from the shoulder to the waist, you would be able to put it on without bothering your wings. All it would need is a buckle or two at the bottom to keep the back and sides in place, right?"

She was grasping at straws with that idea, really. Fashion wasn't her thing at all, but she figured that there had to be some way for Crow to have proper fitting clothing without having to struggle to get things on.

"He certainly helped me with more comfortable fitting gloves, in any case."

Was... was she calling him evil? Crow was rather bemused. "Good or evil, we're happy getting by. And hanging around divine battlefields after all the dying's started, not being in the middle of it." He laughed. Yeah, trying to run around in the thick of things had earned him some impressive scars and a lot of pain. "Spotted wings could be interesting. Oh! Peacock colours! That would be cool." He spread a wing in front of him to try to imagine it blue and green and eyed and whatever else peacock feathers looked like.

He scratched his head. "We'd thought about slits before, but we couldn't figure out any way to keep the air out. Gets cold where we're from, even with more than coveralls. Part of the reason we came down here. Buckles might help, though." He twisted an arm behind him to feel where buckles would be. Maybe he could do that. It wasn't too - erk, there went his ribs. The feeling of what would probably be cramping (pseudo? whatever) muscles if he could feel that particular spot was quite awkward. Anyway!

He angled his head at Andrea. "You can't wear normal gloves?" he asked curiously, and blinked at her gloved hands.

Peacock feathers... she had seen those on the internet and TV before. There were supposed to be the most colorful and beautiful feathers an avian could offer, right? "It would be very colorful, and quite fitting with you being male."

...He was male, right? What if some of him was female?

Oh... that question made her head spin, so she pointedly ignored it. Instead, she answered a much easier inquiry. "No, sadly I cannot." The Greek held her hand out toward him so he could see her glove easier, and smiled at him. "Part of my own mutation makes it impossible for me to touch organic things. I must wear man-made materials at all times upon my hands. These are an equal mix of fake rubber and fake cotton."

Glancing down at her own hand on display, she found herself pondering on how easily was was nowadays to forget some of the more troubling aspects of her curse. The gloves were like a second skin; only coming off to be washed, and always immediately replaced with another pair. It was simply too risky to tempt fate and walk around with her hands bare. Almost as damaging as if she were to abandon her glasses completely.

"Same with these," She murmured, tapping finger against her sunglasses.

"Wouldn't it just? But there are worse things than black. Lavender would be unfortunate. It's really not our colour." Yes, rich colours did tend to go better with the black and white and vivid iridescence. His natural glossiness didn't really do pastels, after all.

Andrea looked confused for a moment, but it passed and Crow let it go. If she wasn't interested in talking about something, who was he to push it? Whatever it was. Oh powerchatting! That was always fun!

"Organic things? That's interesting." He peered at the gloves, but they didn't look super-sparkly-magical. Just synthetic, then. That was cool too. "What happens if you do touch organic things? If you don't mind our asking," he added quickly, briefly berating himself for getting too caught up in curiosity. "Or look at them?" Oh this was interesting. Meeting new people was so awesome! He tried to think. Snakes in her hair. Messing with organic stuff. Pretty green skin. There was a connection somewhere, surely.

Plus Greek.

Oh! Oh oh oh oh oh oh! "Are you like Medusa?" he exclaimed, very nearly vibrating (okay, his wings were actually vibrating, bite him) with excitement. "Do you turn people to stone?" It was awesome being able to think so many times at once.

Nodding, she pondered how to best explain her situation... but he continued on. Well, my hands secrete this toxin... Hm, no. Too blunt. My eyes do this thing where you pass out... Ew, no, also a little too blunt.

"I guess--"

"Are you like Medusa? Do you turn people to stone?"

The Greek froze mid step and her coffee dropped from startled hands. Her mouth worked silently, forming words she couldn't put voice too, before she reeled herself back in and under control. It wasn't uncommon for people to compare her to... Medusa. It happened more often than she like, and she was gradually getting used to it as the days passed.

The comparison was still enough to strike her deep within, where she kept her basest fears and demons hidden away. Andrea bit back a sniffle, blinking away traces of tears that pricked at her eyes, and found herself once again immensely glad to have glasses on to shield Crow from seeing her weakness.

"No!... I-I would never go such a horrible thing to people..." Her eyes focused on her fallen coffee, and to distract herself she bent and retrieved the empty cup. "... It is true that I can turn things t-to stone, but never a living thing. I have only ever used my power on plants; to make stone flowers and other such items as gifts."

The swell of pain that had suddenly bloomed in her chest gradually faded with a few deep breaths, and she looked at him again. ".. and it is only with my hands that I can do so. My eyes just... they just put people to sleep, I guess." Sloth was keenly aware of her distress, but he didn't show it outwardly. The large white snake flicked his tongue at Crow, orange eyes unblinking. Andrea shifted on her feet, feeling suddenly both guilty and foolish for her outburst, "..I apologize... I'm a little sensitive to such comparisons." Wishing desperately to change the subject she turned a question on him. "W-would you like me to show you? What I can do with my hands?"

Oops.

Crow might be excitable and not exactly a master of self-control, but he could tell when he'd crossed a (obvious) line.

He'd crossed a very obvious line.

His own mouth opened and closed a few times, though from an internal war about what to say than from horror and shock. That war might have included a lot of pecking, scratching, and feather-pulling if he'd the appropriate mobility. He did almost break apart, though, so that the more aggressive individuals in his murder might better assault the rest, and there was even a quiver to the markings around his hands and wrists before more logical voices prevailed.

"We're sorry, we're sorry," he cried. "We didn't mean that you would - nothing of the sort! We were just trying to make connections. We're sorry! Speaking without thinking is easier than it seems when you think too many times at once..."

She... she was apologizing? To him? He blinked. He was the one who'd crossed the line with his nosiness. Why should she be apologizing? "No, no no no. Why should you be sorry? We were the ones who who went too far. We're sorry!" Showshowshowshowshowshowshutupshow "Do you want to?" he asked slowly, exerting all the self-control he could muster. He really was sorry.

Wow. She'd never met someone so energetically apologetic before. It made her feel even worse, and at the same time, slightly better.

"No no! It is okay, really!" Her hands came up in an effort to calm him down. For a moment there it had nearly look as though he were squirming rather strangely. Like.., he- they- were moving inside?

"Really, I am fine!" She'd been intent on throwing on a smile, even if she didn't really feel it-- but found one already on her lips. It was real; genuine. Crow was turning out to be someones she just could not be upset with.

Her eyes swiveled to the left and right, searching for something. Considering it was very nearly winter, most flowers were wilted or gone altogether... but, as luck would have it, a few stragglers were hanging on tooth and nail, fighting back at the cold nip of fall. "Ah! There-"

Scooting over to the flower, a pale (yellow) bloom peeking cautiously out from the confines of a bush, she gently plucked it and scooted back on over to Crows side. Her smile widened and brightened as she tugged one glove off with her teeth, nestled it in the crook of her arm, and showed the bloom to Crow. "This will work. It is dying, you see. The creases on the petals show it's age." Carefully, the Greek cupped the flower in her hand, and allowed Crow to watch it's transformation into stone.

"...I used to work in a floral shop, you know. I would make roses and tulips and lilies like this for all sorts of customers." Most, sadly, had purchased her hand-crafted arrangements for cemetery grave sites. Her flowers would never wilt or lose petals; they could withstand the test of time even better than most pricey replica bouquets. Thinking back on her time working there, she felt the last anxiousness ebb out of her. With her gloved hand she held the stone bloom out to Crow, while wriggling her other hand back into it's protective shell.

"You may have this one, if you like. It will never wilt and there is no color to fade."

She was okay? Really? Phew!

He watched, ever curious, as Andrea looked around before pouncing on a... flower? A late flower, yes. Mostly dead, but still. "We're used to flowers dying much earlier," he admitted, "although it is rather colder than we expected, given how far south this is." He shrugged and watched the flower fade, entranced.

"They must have been amazing," he said quietly, wondrously, and took the little flower gently. He stared at it, the little firm thing cradled in his palm. "We'll treasure it," he said before tearing his gaze away to smile honestly at Andrea. "Thank you." For the moment, the stone flower was tucked into the sleeve pocket of his coveralls. One of the most awkward disadvantages of wearing coveralls backwards was that none of the pockets were designed for access at the resulting angles, and Crow wasn't any more flexible than a human. He gave the pocket a light pat to confirm that it was secure.

Her smile transformed into a full-blown grin. "No need to thank me, if is nothing that special." She turned again, intent on continuing the walk toward the nearly forgotten pizzeria.

"...Have you been here very long? I have been here for, uhm, " She counted with her fingers for a moment, recalling dates hazily. "... four years now? Maybe five?" Blinking, she scratched at a cheek sheepishly, and dropped her empty coffee cup in a waste basket on her way past. "Where are you from originally?"

He'd mentioned leaving somewhere, but either he hadn't said the name of the place, or she had neglected to catch it.

"Not special? Of course it's special! You can make something temporary permanent. You can leave a mark in the world." He snorted and winked. "All we do is confuse people and flap around. It has its uses, but it's definitely not permanent." He meandered alongside Andrea.

"Not long, no. A couple of weeks or so? We've been travelling since mid-September, though. Got out of the mountains before the snow hit, fortunately. It's a lot easier to find shelter when the snow's just falling in little pieces, not imitating trains imitating a horde of Spanish bulls." He glanced around quickly, but no one seemed to be paying attention. "We're Canadian, from British Columbia. That'd be the province along the Pacific Ocean. It has pretty much all the mountains in Canada, and they continue on into the states. We're from an island off the coast, but we spent the last few years in Prince George, the biggest northern city in the province. There isn't much but trees and rocks and snow past there." Talking about himself was by no means difficult or awkward, but he was at least superficially aware that he didn't have a passport - all his identification, such as he had, had kind of been melted to ash - and that there were legal issues to his current location. Plus he'd just flown across the border as a bunch of crows. Who recorded crows flying across a non-physical boundary?

He paused to finish the last of his tea and drop it in the trash, and then worked his hands into his backwards pockets to keep them warm. "A lot of the north isn't very friendly to mutants. There were definitely good people, but there are some serious loonies too. This summer was just insane, though. Some religious-ish group got it into their heads that they could fix things by attacking businesses that hired mutants, things like that. We tried to stop them, us and a bunch of other mutants, but they just regrouped and went for our homes. They burned down shelters that didn't turn away mutants, apartment buildings that let us rent. We'd lived in one of the latter. There wasn't much left for us there, after that." He shrugged.

Her cheeks flushed lightly, and she smiled at it. It was always nice to get a compliment from someone, even if it was about a part of herself she'd rather ignore. "Thank you, Crow."

The delightful mood lasted all of five seconds, until he told her about why exactly he was in New York in the first place. "Oh.. how-- how horrible! She was shocked; unable to think of things to say quickly enough for there not to be a long awkward silence in-between. Poor Crow; her heart really went out to him. Being effectively run out of his home by people too selfish to look past their own feelings.

"I am so, so sorry, Crow. That is just terrible what happened to you..." The Greek fought with what to say, failed at coming up with anything helpful, and deflated a little.


"In Greece it is not the same... We, those like you and I, are-" How was she to put it? "- there is... um... like a fandom? People find me interesting there. Pretty, even." Of course, sometime it felt like a very superficial admiration. Like she was a very beautiful, yet dangerous animal to be cooed over from a distance.

He'd shared something very personal with her; enough so that she was left feeling rather uncomfortable by knowing him as more than just a name, while he did not. If he could be so open with her after just meeting, couldn't she do the same? Should she?

"My parents did not want me to be a part of this world." She tried to word her thoughts carefully, "I have been different from the day I was born, and they knew how that would have an impact on me. Until I came here, I had never spoken with a complete stranger. I had never bought a coffee from a shop, or walked down a sidewalk in the sun." She glanced at him, fighting back her anxiety by continuing to walk. The deli wasn't that much farther ahead, and thinking about that gave her something to distract herself with.

"They wanted to protect me from those that view me, us, as different. Those that can only see my skin and snakes, and not what is underneath them. But here... this city, there are different people. It's like.. like the sea. There are lots of different kinds of fish, some who just want to hide and some who just want to eat everything up. I went from a solitary little pond, to the ocean, and while it is every bit as terrifying as my mother and father had warned me about, I am happy that being here allows me to meet people like you."