He hands the dagger over gladly; not that he could keep it from her if she wished otherwise. Her hands aren't shaking, he notes; her unusual loss of composure wasn't so severe.

"Birds are rarely offensive enough to deserve it," he says. "Though I've encountered a enough of their mess to understand such an impulse."

He spends a lot of time in high places, where birds gather; the number of times they've shit on him is not zero.

"These birds strike me as unusual, though," he adds after a moment. "I've never known any to be capable of clear speech."