[They look up, and though they shield their eyes with their hand and what's left of roof and canopy above that do plenty to cover them from the bright of the day, their pupils narrow to thin slits. They hum their agreement -- the weather is nice and the wind feels good. Their wings shuffle a little, trying to fold more neatly into place before they take their seat next to him out of something like politeness. They don't have shoes to take off or a hat to hang up as some kind of ritual, after all.]

We can start stretching it properly soon, maybe.

[Make sure that it still remembered how to work right. But actual flying isn't a priority, especially without that special person from so many of the memories -- a relief, as Mili wasn't very good at it themself. In fact, despite seeing them with wings for a while now, Héctor might note that the kid's stayed pretty solidly on the ground except to climb something or leap into the stream.

Lopsided, sympathetic smile in place, they start to lift their hand in a desire to touch his face tenderly. Another habit they've picked up in this family.]

I think you won't be able to feel the wind through your hair, soon. Even that might get stuck in there.