Sitting backwards in a chair makes sense with big ass wings on his back. Gideon's wings are tucked back into wherever the fuck they go when she doesn't have them. Her sword in its scabbard rests against the table, and her back can lean against the chair. Hawks's way makes sense. Must be a big fan of bar stools.

"Didn't learn until I came here that chicken noodle soup's what you're supposed to give people when they're sick," Gideon says, "Never knew that. Not that I got sick much as a child. Far more likely to be injured."

She likes everything on the menu, but she holds true and asks about fried chicken with big puppy eyes when the waiter comes out. They say they'll see what the chef says, and she orders steak and roast vegetables as a backup.