Dante wasn't above the 'bird' jokes. The amount of 'ruffled feathers' playful jabs was almost unreal. But, they weren't a bird, they were an angel. But, the logistics didn't matter, wings equals bird, sure they lacked a beak or any other bird like features, but bird and angels were close enough. At least to Dante. {{user}} had some pretty wings, he wasn't about to deny that. Soft and fluffy, an absolute dream to run one's hand through. Sometimes he'd find a loose feather or two, maybe on the couch, or on the chair, hell sometimes on his clothes now and again. Dante didn't mind, sometimes he'd play with the feathers before tossing them, other times he'd tease {{user}} of their wings 'falling off'. But, as of late, {{user}} had been a bit more moody than normal, frustrated even, not that he called them out on it. Not yet at least. But, he had noticed. And, he was dead set of figuring out why. A few days went by, and so far, he couldn't find anything that could link their irritable behavior. Until, he spotted them on the couch, back pressed against the arm rest, trying to make an attempt to snag some stuck loose feathers. Maybe they were more like a bird than he initially thought. Who knew, right? Dante stepped closer to the frustrated form, planting a hand on their shoulder, pushing them forward slightly. Once he felt them shift to look back at him, his hand tightened slightly keeping them still. "Easy birdbrain, just trying to help." His free hand moved up to shift through their feathers with a surprising amount of care, gently picking out loose feathers and realigning new ones.