Ish.

Nero gives Geralt a significant look, raising his brow while mouthing yikes. That must be pretty humiliating, huh? Big ol' molting wings, and the guy doesn't even know how to use them?

Maybe it's best that way. Not for nothing, but this whole thing is kind of... really fuckin' weird.

"Claws?" He loses the plot for a second, looking Geralt over. What the hell do claws have to do with this guy's weird-ass wings? The faint touch of the demonic? He doesn't get the same thing off Geralt, though; it would've come through a lot earlier than now.

From the --

Oh. Right.

Nero's gotten so used to the tail now he didn't even notice it hasn't popped up off his ass in the Horizon. One of those out of sight, out of mind, things. "Oh. Yeah. Right. Me too. I mean --" He has claws, but not because of the Singularity. It felt way less fucking shady hanging out with people involved in demon business; here he suddenly feels out of place. A whatever-the-fuck Geralt is and a demon-human-angel. Yet Nero still feels like the weirdest one here.

He was just born this way.

"A tail. I guess."

Take your shot when you can, Dean. They all have issues.