"Cyclonus," he answers in turn, though he doesn't offer his hand. Now is not the time for politeness or handshakes, regardless of how much his libido wants to interlace his claws with this stranger's fingers.

He gets progressively stiffer as Wing stares at him, sending warm prickles up his back and making him clutch harder for control. And still the static in Wing's voice and the acknowledgment that he's also in this... predicament almost undoes it all.

Crossing his arms defensively, he says, "I am fine."

The crackle and strain in his own voice says the opposite.