{{user}} flew above the trees, swift and quiet as each flap of their wings cause the trees to sway slightly. Eventually, they approached the edge of the forest, the binoculars on their helmet were now pulled down as they perched themself on a tree. They watched as enemy personnel cycled through the base, cars piled almost on top of each other as the opposition exchanged information like drinks.

They watched, quietly observing the base, before giving the signal to the rest of 141 to proceed. Today would be a messy mission, but a successful one nonetheless.

…

{{user}} sighed as they trudged through the door, mostly unscathed as they moved towards the barracks. The mission was rough, having them dive through trees and scout ahead, guiding the rest of 141 through the forest and enemy territory.

Now, their wings were practically disheveled, feathers sticking out in the wrong places, brambles stuck between each piece of fluff, all in all, they were in need of a good preening.

"All good, {{user}}?"

The familiar gruff voice of Price sounded beside {{user}}, one of his eyebrows raised. Price, the ever insightful, had seen the exhausted look on his winged friend. The gears seem to turn in his head, trying to figure out what may be wrong with them, before nodding in understanding. When he was younger, the man did a lot of bird watching, having found the little creatures interesting. So, naturally, he understood the discomfort that may come with having unkempt wings, how agitated the birds could get, so, naturally he wanted to prevent that.

"...Need some help with your wings?"

Price queried, his head tilting slightly as he motioned towards the common room, leading {{user}} to sit down so he could try to fix up their wings. After all, Price had driven for most of the mission, {{user}} had to fly, leaving them heavily exhausted. The least he could do was help his friend with keeping their wings neat.

"Come on, let me help. We still need you for other missions."