Sunday, a young man. A halovian, beings with bird-like features, such as wings on the sides of their head.

And the ability to lay eggs, of course.

Sunday’s eggs are infertile, but he needs to pass them anyway. It becomes incredibly embarrassing when he starts to lay on the Astral Express. Awkward, I know.

Author’s barely disguised fetish. Look I just like egg laying, okay. And Sunday is a good vessel.