Sable's grin gets a bit playful and she takes her phone back for a moment, tapping her way to another page, then slides it back to Pigeon, the screen now showing an (at the time) acclaimed study from several generations ago claiming a tenth of a percent among humans, conducted on a world that was surveyed at nineteen percent just a few years ago.

"... so it's cultural, then, as worlds assimilate into the OTC there are more transgender people. I guess it makes sense that it'd be more of an option, I certainly never had heard of anyone on Valimer getting a custom body..." 

She rests her chin against her knuckles. "... and you have to account for migration, right, the culture gets more diverse over time... But still, you wouldn't expect half the world to be replaced with weird gender aliens... We can't say anything about Aevii for sure except that it does happen to us, I doubt 'bird girl' is lying when she says she's transgender, and we do have the study... But to call it suppression is kind of... that's an additional step, you know? Just because it's not OTC culture doesn't necessarily mean that it's wrong, and those people who might be transgender in the OTC might have been perfectly happy never knowing."

She smiles sadly now. "No, they wouldn't have, but they wouldn't have known why."

She sighs softly. "Can I tell you a story of an awful situation that wouldn't really happen, but that'll show you what it's like?"

"Um... Okay."

"Thank you," she says with a smile.

"On second thought, it's more of a thought experiment than a story," she taps her lips thoughtfully. 

"I want you to think about every single thing about you that's correlated with your having wings, everything that knits having wings into being an integrated part of who you are. These'll be things like muscle memory, body language, sensitivities, maybe instinctive comfort with open skies, and countless other things I have no idea about at all. Take your time, be really sure you've got as many as you can, okay?"

She unfolds a wing, tests the air with it, folds it back in. 

"... I think I have it."

"Good. Now imagine another you, with a physically human body, no episodic memory of having wings, raised among humans, but who inexplicably still has everything else. She has possibly heard of Aevii before. At most, she has seen an Aevis on TV once or twice. And she has all of those instincts and unspoken things that aren't the physical wings or the episodic memories."

"Immerse yourself as fully as you can, for a few moments, in the experience of being her. Live her story."

"... That's awful. Being... haunted by the ghost of wings you've never had, barely even knowing what you're missing - that never actually happens, right?"

"No, that example is made up."

... Someone wearing a dark cotton dress with long sleeves that cover her palms has come over to their table. She's hunching awkwardly. 

"... Excuse me, but I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, and... That does happen. It happened to me, actually."

"... Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I should've introduced myself. You can, um, call me Pigeon."

"........ This is a joke, right?"

"Goddess," Sable mutters under her breath, turning her misty-eyed face toward the newcomer.

"One, Pigeon, I am so sorry that happened to you. I used what I didn't expect to be your story as an example to illustrate a point. Two," she scoots further into the booth and gestures for Pigeon across the table to do the same, "sit down next to whichever of us and get a hug, 'cause you clearly need one. Three, I'd like you to meet Pigeon, your alt."

"Please don't hug me," says the wingless Pigeon, but she sits down in the seat next to Sable. "And, um, hi. Do you... know what alts are, um, Pigeon? Gosh that's awkward."

"Let me do a search."

She types a query into her phone. 

"... doppelgangers but of your personality? That's a thing?"

The wingless Pigeon nods. "Mhm. I don't know how I can prove that I'm, like, actually your alt or anything... What ridiculous luck, honestly, I'm only here for one day..." 

Sable finishes a long sip of her cocoa and puts it down, tails swishing a little with her intrigue — she's had to shift them around to the other side to avoid accidentally brushing Pigeon, wingless edition.

"Okay, there is an easy way to fix this, because I know this data will be in y'all's client profiles. Everyone get out your phones and open the Bowers app. The request you want is the following phrase: 'my client profile, personal history section, including template data'. Once found, read and then show each other the relevant bits."

Siiip, wag wag.

Both Pigeons nod.

The wingless one gets out her phone and starts tapping at it.

"... Okay, got the relevant section. Nothing in here looks too personal. Template data... lists me as 'Pigeon, #2582'."

"Same, 'Pigeon, #2582'. Here, have a look." 

She pushes her phone across the table.

She picks it up and reads through the history. 

"... Number matches, and, um... do you mind if I read this aloud for Sable?"

"Go ahead."

"Age 24. Born on Videstri, a former refugee world primarily host to expatriates from the Imperium. Has had dysmorphia regarding her absence of wings since her teens, a condition she was obligated to hide given social conditions on the refugee worlds. Emigrated to the Half-Tamed world of Sporifa five years ago, where she took a job as a ...takkarash minter? ...and proceeded to save all her spare funds towards a single day at the Rose Bowers? Why would you do that?"