"All birds," he confirmed. "It's just strongest with Redwing coz I've had him so long." Well, close enough. He was rarely very precise when explaining his powers, partly because it was just easier not to be and partly to avoid the possibility of people picking up on the potential implications - firstly how incredibly Big Brother-ish the whole thing could be to start with, secondly the fact that if it had started as just Redwing and grown to encompass others, there was no real evidence to suggest it wasn't going to just keep going. It was one of the things he very deliberately didn't think about - the cosmic cube had been fifteen years ago and if he didn't manage to get himself killed playing hero he could easily live another forty, forty five years, statistically speaking. One of the most peaceful outcomes he could imagine was spending his days sitting non-responsive in a rest home, completely forgetting that he'd once had a human body.
Apparently, though, she could either give him a serious run for his money in the crazy stakes or she just had such a weird sense of humour that it might as well have been the same thing. That was... just awesome. Then again, crazy girls with baseball bats was far from the only thing that probably should have scared him a hell of a lot more than it did, along with things like 'super powered Nazis' and 'jumping off buildings' and 'telling cosmic beings to go fuck themselves'. Fuck it, he was here now, he might as well go along for the ride.
"Loads of stories," he agreed, because this was exactly how he got them, and one day his luck was gonna run out but it wasn't going to be today. "Here's hoping it doesn't just dump us in an empty field somewhere. I'm holding out for a sleazy bar of some kind."