Calan
With one foot settled on Carlo’s shoulder and the other finally finding its match, Calan is just beginning to feel as though this whole thing has returned to being a proper plan when Fern ruins that by being in the wrong window and, worse, knowing it.
He blinks at her, and for a moment, he goes very still, which the Hel apparently takes as permission to snuggle in. Its frantic flapping slows, claws prickling through his shirt as it shuffles from his hair to his shoulder and settles there like this was its idea all along. Calan lets it, partly because both hands are still needed for the windowsill and partly because having a bird on his shoulder does make him look a bit more official, probably.
He is very close to asking Fern Lockwood-Hart for identification, not because he does not believe her, exactly, but because anybody can lean out of a window with scissors and claim to be the person they are looking for. That is how scams happen. Calan knows this because he is currently doing one. Luckily, Carlo gets there first with a much better answer, to which Calan begins nodding along at once, his face brightening with immediate agreement. "Like I said, we know what high standards you have," he calls over, earnest as anything despite the feathers stuck in his hair and the Hel balanced proudly against his cheek. "So of course we were practising first."
At Carlo’s suggestion, Calan’s expression shifts into a beaming smile aimed directly at Fern.
He blinks at her, and for a moment, he goes very still, which the Hel apparently takes as permission to snuggle in. Its frantic flapping slows, claws prickling through his shirt as it shuffles from his hair to his shoulder and settles there like this was its idea all along. Calan lets it, partly because both hands are still needed for the windowsill and partly because having a bird on his shoulder does make him look a bit more official, probably.
He is very close to asking Fern Lockwood-Hart for identification, not because he does not believe her, exactly, but because anybody can lean out of a window with scissors and claim to be the person they are looking for. That is how scams happen. Calan knows this because he is currently doing one. Luckily, Carlo gets there first with a much better answer, to which Calan begins nodding along at once, his face brightening with immediate agreement. "Like I said, we know what high standards you have," he calls over, earnest as anything despite the feathers stuck in his hair and the Hel balanced proudly against his cheek. "So of course we were practising first."
At Carlo’s suggestion, Calan’s expression shifts into a beaming smile aimed directly at Fern.
I've never been one to half-ass shenanigans.
