"Bitch is up to something." he grumbles, ignoring her comment on his dress and gender most effectively.<br/><br/>With a brief grunt, he flexes his prodigous muscles, stretching his arms behind him, and then pressing them back out in front, tightening to strain his back.  A rip and a crack, the skin on his back splits open, along with the leather vest, and a flurry of blood and feathers erupts from him.  The brilliant white wings spread open wide, splashing stray bits of crimson off of them.  Unlike a true eagle or angel's pure and soft wings, the bones are horned at the joints and tip, the feathers on the edges gleaming black.<br/><br/>The wings are not in fact housed within him, nor are they at all 'natural'.  Thus, with a great flap and gust of air, he propels himself directly upward, to shoot off like a glorious rocket in hot pursuit, chasing her with an easy, dancing grace and startling mobility.