Honestly, he thinks it could kill him with the way that Genesis looks at his feathers. As if they're more priceless than anything that was at any fancy display in any Midgar store. Angeal doesn't move, simply watching as Genesis does.

That pale feather, trapping his wrist.

Its partner, held up into his ear, bright against the brilliance of his crimson hair.

"What do I think, huh?" What does he think, when just handling them made his nerves claw up against his spine and his stomach twist even as he carefully bent together bits of metal? Angeal tries to forget those feelings, even a little bit. All he does is look at the way that feather rests along Genesis's neck... and cracks an uncertain but strangely stubborn smile.

"Pretty... I guess. They're on you, after all."