John took off his long jacket and unfolded a large pair of grey-feathered wings. "Ah, that's much better. I hope you're not a bird-eating spider," he said, flashing her a grin. "On second thought, that might be interesting."
Erin couldn't help but laugh. It felt good to be able to joke about it, and John clearly didn't mind her unusual shape. "I haven't had the chance to find out," she responded in the same playful manner. "I don't have fangs, though."
"Trust me," John said, draping his jacket across the back of his chair--the only one at the table--and motioned for her to sit down. "After Madam Razor-maw, I'm very delighted to hear that." Erin folded her legs up under her so as to sit at the proper height. John too sat down, and picked up his silverware.
"I haven't made this in a long time, so I hope you like it. I figured that you probably didn't want to deal with a restaurant, what with the prevailing sentiments in the area against our kind," he told her, and Erin appreciated the thought. She'd been dreading the stares.
"Thanks...this looks wonderful. So, um, John, tell me about yourself," she said, eager to satisfy her curiosity.
"Not much to tell. I come from an old-guard family; we were using magic when Arthur was king. The Long Island incident was no serious blow to us; if anything, it helped us out, because we could finally go public with all the spellbooks and potions we devised over the centuries. Hence--" he waved a hand around the room. "I'm overseeing the American division of our corporation. Oh, and yes, I can fly with these. But really, I'd like to hear about you," he said.
