"You don't," Wyatt insists with a crooked grin. This is just garden variety Presley grumpery.

His threat doesn't strike the feat Presley may have intended. Wyatt just screws up his face, mildly confused. "You know I got like... wings, right?" He points over his shoulder at them. They're kinda small and his shoulders are broad, so maybe Presley didn't see them. "Anywho, c'mon," he says, then holds out a hand to help the other boy up if he wants.