Renewed uneasiness flashes across his face as his focus shifts onto those memories, that long haze of pain. He skips across the surface, not wanting to sift and dwell on any details.

"Hah--what didn't he say. Plenty, he said plenty." Shakes his head. "The big one that he and all of his, like, hospital goons would tell me, though--wouldn't ever let me forget it, of course not. That man was extremely angry that I showed up to his window."

His fingers fidget, seeking purchase. They're brushing dangerously close to the fire, but Cassandra--she asked, and Phil makes a point of honesty. "You know what he told me? He said my w-wings, my flight, it was all a--privilege he was taking away. Especially because I was never supposed to have them in the first place."