A mess of green and blonde went sailing past Gwen, only to land in a heap of oddly-shaped limbs atop a pile of boxes nestled against a dumpster. The figure tried to heave itself up, but the muscular emerald-hued arms seemed to be having a little trouble. It was the wings that were throwing Teddy off-balance; in a few seconds they'd retracted into his shoulders and he had a better time of finding his feet.
"HEY." The boy - and he was a boy, for all his height and musculature - shouted skyward. "PERSON. NOT A BIRD. DO NOT SHOOT ME."
There were signs that he'd been grazed; red had blossomed around a hole in the shoulder of his white tee-shirt, but beneath the ragged edges of the fabric there was no obvious wound.
Still muttering under his breath but no longer bellowing at gun-happy denizens of the city, Teddy ran a hand through his tousled mop of hair and shot a sudden, embarrassed glance around him. Oops. He was street-level now; people had probably just witnessed his plummeting from above.