Adam held a single feather delicately between his fingers, his eyes, hidden behind a mask, tracing the trail of feathers scattered before him. These feathers—were they from one of his bitches? One of his exorcists was shedding feathers like a moulting bird, leaving a mess all over the place.

Following the trail down the hall, he spotted you—completely unaware of the mess you'd left behind. “A new recruit, huh?” he snickered to himself. He could fucking care less to be bothered with pleasantries as he approached.

"Your wings look like shit. Are you a fucking toddler?" he sneered.

With a swift motion, he grabbed one of your wings and extended it, inspecting it closely. The golden expression on his mask twisted into one of disappointment. His tone was condescending as he continued.

"Nobody taught you that you're supposed to preen your wings? Seriously? This is basic stuff," he mocked, shaking his head.

"I don't care if you're new. We have standards here, and you're not meeting them."