"I—I guess maybe it just feels like that because I don't do it much," she comments. After a moment,  Midnight trots away from me, fanning out her wings yet again. With a few powerful pumps of those feathered limbs that move enough air to hit me with a breeze and a bit of dust, she takes to the air again, hovering just a few feet from the ground and turning to face me. "You think I'm a pretty good flier, huh?" she sings.