That was the truth, wasn't it? Michael had explained that perfection was required to defeat the evils in the world. Reaching out, he touched the tray, using his fingers to find the food. He had a point. Sam needed to blend in, and he already knew that Michael's glamour would hold until he could hide his wings on his own. And not because he was corrupted. He found a utensil and tried some of the food. It was good, but he still ate slowly. "It's good," he said quietly, gratefully, and utterly humble. He ate all he could stomach and drank the water, then pulled himself back onto the bed. "Thank you," he said softly, even though there was a gloomy cloud over his head. All he'd wanted was to go back home, and that seemed further and further out of his reach.<br/><br/>His head raised and his eyes widened. Even though he'd been betrayed on a snowy day, he'd always loved the winter. "Really?" He breathed. That shadow seemed to lift a bit. "That sounds wonderful. I would love to go outside." If that required rest, he'd rest. His lips quirked a little. "It's been so long since I've read." He wouldn't care what it was. "Afterwards will I see you again?" He, too, was drawn towards Ryan. He wanted to be friends with him, though he very much wanted to see Milo again. But he could be patient. He was out. Free. If he could walk, he'd go find him himself. Or at least find a church to stay in. A nervous flutter filled him. Could he even go into a church? He didn't know. He didn't really know anything anymore. "TV?" Sam asked. "What is that?" He blushed. "I was down there a long time. I don't think I know what anything is anymore."