There's no appearance, of revulsion. Not a modicum, of hesitation, in his movement, either. He thanks her, and the smile that settles at her lips was somewhat sheepish, ears low. Cheeks and the tip of her nose burn, cherry red muted against the tone of her skin. It's all enough, to make downy ring of feathers at her neck puff, claws desperately trying to smooth them down. He's sweet — when it came to her, he seemed to be nothing but — and her gratefulness knew little bounds. She watches, as it sits against his skin. I should have made it softer, she tells herself in quiet, not thinking of the irritation it might cause. She knew, for next time.
He does not scold her, no but she feels the same little PITFALL in her stomach, that came when err was made. Claws fidget with one another, as her head bows slightly. ❝ I ... I'm happy, is all. Grateful, that ... you'd ... look at me as a ... ❞ A what ? ❝ As a fair friend. I know that ... I am a little strange, in my customs, and my mannerisms, and that maybe it's difficult to adapt to, but ... You don't seem to mind. ❞
And strange, she had been ; she was. Tasking with talons, singing in the depths and throes of nature, not letting her true self show to many. He, though ... he was closer than almost everyone, here, she had so far met.
❝ ... My people aren't ... the kindest, under the skies. So, when I make a friend, I just ... I'm always very grateful that I've been given a chance. And you, you're ... ❞ Kindhearted. Beautiful. ❝ I just never imagined I'd meet someone like you. I mean that in a good way. ❞