"Their wings are brown," Anael reminded him, amused through his concentration. Definitely not the right colour for him. Under Robin's hand, the wings flexed and shifted, clearly very responsive, even if Anael was doing his best to not melt into a very figurative puddle of goo. "But I suppose your arse makes a wonderful beacon," he added warmly.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2015-06-19 01:56 am (UTC)