Another deep, deep sigh. Okay, Julien can't be held close, sheltered. He's just too big. And sensation is more distant through feathers, spread out and insulated to a remove; he feels them pressed down, not the kind of heat and texture he'd taken for granted once. Still. It's something.

"Okay," he mutters down Aaron's back. "I don't hate you. Just..." He turns his head, rubbing his face, the velvety shape of his operculum, against the jacket, and closes his eyes.

"...my God. My God."