Raven ruffled again at the praise, this time an obviously proud thing; he really was that easy to get his ego going. Catching himself before it turned into a full-on preen, John took wing to meet his son above the tree, flying opposite circles above him to avoid getting caught on the draft. Huge wings, weren't they?
'It's your mother's glitter,' He didn't elaborate, figuring that would be an awkward story all its own. 'But how are you really?' Something deeper than 'alright'. He didn't know how to ask that, though. So he settled for a little look, and a gently inquisitive squawk.