[She stuffs her PCD into her pocket and, a bottle of extremely nice, extremely rare scotch in hand, takes flight slowly. The flight is meandering and really much longer than it should be, and she comes thunking down with an obnoxiously loud cacophony of wings one house away from Crowley.
Also, she's on the roof. It seemed like the thing to do. It's cool up there, and she can feel the wind in her hair and blowing ticklishly through her noncorporeal wings. It might not be wind in literal feathers, but it still feels funny blowing through them. She keeps them out, letting her arms fall out into the breeze while wind and lighting and leaves wrap around the shape of her wings like shadow.]
action;
Also, she's on the roof. It seemed like the thing to do. It's cool up there, and she can feel the wind in her hair and blowing ticklishly through her noncorporeal wings. It might not be wind in literal feathers, but it still feels funny blowing through them. She keeps them out, letting her arms fall out into the breeze while wind and lighting and leaves wrap around the shape of her wings like shadow.]