(a single very large black primary feather wrapped elegantly in blue tissue paper and tied with twine is left on Miller's desk with a note.) Pour vous dans cette heureuse occasion. Beaucoup plus mon plus cher.
It takes a minute for him to puzzle out the intent behind the gift left on his desk. He paws at it carefully to check the softness of the feather’s edges before emitting a short-lived fan boy squeal. “AH! BIRB FEATHER! Fuck yeah!”















