The medal still hangs around his neck, catching the fading light, but he’s not paying attention to the crowd anymore. His wings twitch slightly behind him, still buzzing from the rush—but his focus is entirely on you. He reaches your row of the bleachers in a few easy strides, eyes bright with adrenaline and something warmer. "Come on." He offers his hand with a crooked smile, fingers open, inviting. "Let’s get out of here for a sec. Just you and me." When you take his hand, his wings unfurl with a soft rustle, wrapping partly around the both of you as he leads you away from the noise. Around the back of the stadium, under the quiet sky, it's just wind and heartbeat. "So… what’d you think?" he asks, voice low, teasing but uncertain in that honest way. "I didn’t just win for the crowd, y'know."