The clarification doesn't help America's confusion. If anything, it makes it worse. This isn't the first time Wonderland has warped America's memories to craft a fake life for him, but when he's back to normal with only vague recollections of a life he never actually lived, he'll think that it isn't such a bad thing. Being a human for a weekend, a super hero at that, had been an exhilerating breath of fresh air, a cherished experience that sits in the back of his mind like a faded photograph. Even now it's not so bad; being a cursed has its baggage, sure, but nothing compared to what he usually carries on his heart. There are things America doesn't like living with that this teenage eagle, this Alfred, can't imagine.

Besides, flying is pretty rad.

His head tilts again, though less severely as he asks, "Eagle thing? I must've told ya that explanation a million times, bro!"

At least he remembers being upfront about who and what he really is. Nervous at first when he first introduced himself to Daryl, afraid of judgement and hatred, but grew in self-confidence as people more often greeted him with pleasantries than disdain.

"I've got the family curse, man. Got the spirit of the eagle nestled in me. Helluva lot better than some of my cousins," he adds with an arrogant puff of his feathers. "Only bad part is that my eyes are messed up no matter what form I take, and it ain't like they make glasses specially for birds. Hoods for falconry, sure, but what good is that gonna do me?"

And then he stares at Daryl for a few awkward seconds and his thoughts are clear: I could be your falcon. A hunting team.

Except as he stares the tape holding his glasses to his head starts to slip, putting his glasses askew. First thing's first.

"Crap, could ya fix that for me?"