[Her eyes turn away. A small part of him wishes she didn't, but all the better to drown in this glass, he supposes. It's ridiculous. They can't be the same.]

[They can't, they can't, they can't.]

That's true. We're not special. The City grinds us down no matter what kind of bird we are.

[The Wings stand above all, after all. What's the use for a proper bird, or two?]

Help each other...do what, then?

[Commiserate? What good does that do?]