Lance just stared at Hana when she tried to get him to do a victory dance. No. A victory dance is not just a dance. It is a feeling. He did not feel the urge to victory dance there and it felt false to pretend to do so. "No, I think not," he said pointedly as he scoffed. "No fist pumping. No victory dancing. It was a fricking tie."
Now that they were done running and Hana did her own ritual with dealing with her excess energy, he morphed out his wings, which slipped through the slots he already cut especially for this purpose. All his work-out clothes he made to be like this and he liked to wear the spandex tops because they give way a lot more than other materials. Most of his clothes had to be modified to make room for his appendages. Some, he kept as is because now he could retract them for a small period of time.
The tips of his black feathery wings stretched outward like they were those aliens in alien. It still kind of twinged to do so and also sort of tickled. However, he got used to it. He got used to it like how people get sore after working out. He still winced a little as they made their final advancement out, flapping a few times, stretching.
"I'm okay with capture-" Lance began to say but Hana already changed her mind and tugged at his shoulder. "Really? Ice cream? Now? After I just stretched my wings? Pffft. You're a pain in the ass, don't you know."