Pow

Sky finds a chair where he can glance out the window in case he has to go somewhere in a hurry, leans back on the two rear legs just like your mother told you never to do, puts his feet up in a relaxed posture, lights a cigarette, and smiles at the nearest female.

"So whatchya planning to do with your cut of the money?"

Shara smiles shyly and says, 

"Land, I hadn't really thought about it! A week ago I didn't even have a Power, and now we're wanted desperadoes and rich as Rockefeller, both!"

"I don't know about Rockefeller, hon," says Christine, "but we certainly have enough left from the last job for a lot of easy living. After this one, that's if I can get Nick to make the attempt, we might lay low for a while. Maybe even retire -- although where's the fun in that?"

Two rapid gunshots shake the floor from below. They're pistol shots, not rifle-caliber, although of the three people left in the room only Sky knows the difference.

Shara's hand flies to her mouth in alarm. Christine drops her glass on the night table.

"Shara, open the window," she says at once. "Better get ready to run, or better yet, fly!"

Shara turns to the window, spreading her arms wide. Feathers blossom like time-lapse flowers opening, covering her arms and separating from them to form wide gray wings, almost spanning the hotel room.

She steps forward then, and the wings fold as though weightless. They make her shoulders wider, but she can easily fit through the window. This puts her right next to Sky; if he wants to lean his chair forward, she'll have to move. Shara doesn't seem to realize she's walked almost completely into a man.