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"Are you suuuure you're willing to wait to see Santa, hun?" Alaina asks once again, nibbling on her lower lip at the sight of the length of the line still to visit the fat man's lap.

Garrett gives an assured nod, squeezing his guardian's hand tighter at the lull of movement as the line shuffles all of two feet forward. He fixates his golden eyes upon the lavishly decorated throne, the elves in unflattering tights, and the mountain of presents beneath the decorative false evergreen. He's willing to wait as long as it takes, just for the chance to ask Santa if he got his letter!

Alaina sighs, giving in to her boy's determination, or perhaps stubbornness. She slips her fingers out of Garrett's grip to readjust the sleeping blonde baby girl against her shoulder. Her shopping bags are at her feet in anticipation of a long enough wait to allow herself the break from carrying the dreadfully heavy things.

The winged boy's eyes wander over the faces nearest him, examining their unique features and perking his upturned ears to fragments of conversation..

It's first the movement that catches his eye, then the vibrant colours, of the girl child's wings that draws his attention her way. Immediately, his face betrays him, as he looks absolutely stunned for probably the first time ever.

It takes him a moment of rapid thought to force his hand upward to return the wave. He cocks his head to the side, and with this movement, the opposing wing peeks up over his shoulder in almost its own sort of hello wave. W-wings. Like his own, only.. not.

Standing upright as soon as she approaches, Garrett finds himself transfixed by the colours of her hair, her wings, and even her outfit. He almost forgets to respond to her rapid conversation, though for a second he doesn't even know where to begin.

"I'm Garrett," he tries first, twisting around in his place to keep his eyes on Kirra's wings just as she is examining his own. "You has wings too. And they're BRIGHT."

The line has shuffled forward a bit, but the excitable toddlers take up all the room provided from this next move, so Garrett ignores the need to move up with it. Instead, he shakes his head, his scruffy hair tossing across his brow and against his upturned ears, as if to clear his suddenly clouded mind. Bright wings, and on a girl! What a concept!

He seems a little taken aback by the question, but responds much faster now that he is slowly getting used to her appearance. "I like music and watching peoples," he responds carefully in his gruff tone, rubbing his forearm with the opposing hand, wondering if that was the appropriate answer.

He also allows his wings the opportunity to stretch out, something he rarely does in company, as it usually seems to get a negative response for a reason beyond his comprehension. It just made him having them a little more awkward. But she's doing it, so he takes this as an invitation to do the same!

Garrett opens his mouth to respond to her question, but as he's tugged along to keep up with the line, he shuts it just as quickly. He hadn't noticed the jump in the line, and probably wouldn't have, had she not jolted him out of his tunnel vision.

"Not really," he mumbles into his shoulder. Mum had told him that most birds can sing, and this was true of most of the pretty songbirds at the parks around his house, but if Garrett is part bird, it must be some kind that can't sing, to his disappointment.

"What about you?" he adds as an afterthought. Most of the able-to-sing birds have pretty colours, and Kirra has pretty colours, so, in his logic, pretty colours means able to sing!

A woman pushes out of line, apparently giving up, to the dismay of the screaming child dragged at her heel. Garrett winces at the noise, shrinking closer to Kirra to take his mind off it.

"Maybe I can learn singing," he replies neutrally, trying to convince himself as much as her. His right wing jerks involuntarily, its feathers ruffling. Shrinking away this time, Garrett feels his face grow hot in embarrassment.

"How you keep your wings all nice?" Garrett asks, hastily rubbing his dark hands at his cheeks as if capable of rubbing away the blush.

"Mine dun like me," he begins to explain as the line moves up again, this time rather significantly as a family of large quantity visits Santa together. He shoots a look over his shoulder at his twitching right wing, attempting to scold it by imitating the look his mother gives him.

He forgets all about this, though, as he notices they're only a few people away from Santa now. "Almost there, Kirra, almost there," he exclaims breathlessly, bouncing up and down in excitement he can't quite contain.