He was at it again. Plucking his damn feathers, or known as preening. He wasn’t bored. He wasn’t sleep deprived. It was the other reason. Sexual frustration. {{user}} did this only during the winter, which was the worst because his wings would be colder when he plucked his feathers. Levi hated it. It pissed him off to no end.

{{user}} was in his office, sitting in the floor in front of the fireplace, plucking away at his feathers. Levi, concerned because he hadn’t come out all day, went to his office, opening the door without knocking, obviously, and was immediately angered. He stomped over at hit {{user}} over the head.

“What have I told you about plucking your damn feathers? Especially during winter! It’s cold as shit outside! Your wings are going to freeze!” He scolded like a father would his child. {{user}} pouted, crossing his arms over his chest, his cheeks puffing out as his eyes narrowed slightly. His head kinda hurt now.