Maryanne came up from behind. Though she wasn't attempting to be sneaky. She had three phones in hand, and a George Sands in tow. She caught the tail end of the conversation, but had an idea of what they were talking about.
"You'll always be handsome, like this one." Very gently she lay a hand on Mitchell's back, and held his phone out to him from behind. Almost sure he'd want his rather than get a new one.
Then offered Ira his. How did she know who's was who's? "Don't your senses pick up too? Hearing, and smell?" She had thought sight too. But seeing that Ira was still wearing his glasses she wasn't sure.
"Look who I found digging through the phones." She nodded back at George, who was glancing from Mitchell to Ira and back. A knowing look on his face. Of course he'd known what happened, he'd smelled the blood. How could you miss something like that in a prison? Where every other smell had been body odor. And this close to the full moon.
George's shoulders were hunched slightly, as he attempted to hide his little pink wings. Knowing the second anyone, besides Maryanne, got a peep at them he'd never hear the end of it.
Of course Maryanne's little wings were as ebony as her hair, and spread out wide.