If I can help one fainting robin unto his nest again
I shall not live in vain
I shall not live in vain
Harper eagerly hops along in Sah's wake as the man takes the balloon and heads to the edge of the roof, a quick burst of his wings getting him to the edge to gleefully watch. The idea of a scoring system is exactly what Harper had wanted, and he bounces in a happy little circle like a pleased cockatoo that his desires have translated so well even with so few words. "Yes! Yes!" He is still growing accustomed to the desire for repetition when in his bird form, but Harper supposes animal instincts are unavoidable when wearing the form of one.
Eagerly watching Sah do some sort of magic with the balloon, he keeps his sharp corvid eyes on the floating colorful container of mayhem. When it bursts over the man's target, his laughter is more like a mimicry of human amusement in birdlike squawking tones, wings beating and feathers ruffling with mirth. "Eight!" he proclaims mightily, leaving room for some sort of improvement just in case. Not that he's a very good judge; anything decently amusing is perfect in his eyes.
Soaring back to the bucket, Harper plucks another balloon in his beak, eager for his own turn. Leaping from the edge of the roof, he finds his target - a young boy, sticky-cheeked and squalling at his mother for some treat or another while she sighs in tired exasperation. Harper dives down, dropping the balloon over the child's head in a burst that has the kid shrieking in surprise and tripping, dropping his half-finished ice cream into the sand. Harper wings back to the roof, cackling glee in his throat as he lands. "Score?"
Eagerly watching Sah do some sort of magic with the balloon, he keeps his sharp corvid eyes on the floating colorful container of mayhem. When it bursts over the man's target, his laughter is more like a mimicry of human amusement in birdlike squawking tones, wings beating and feathers ruffling with mirth. "Eight!" he proclaims mightily, leaving room for some sort of improvement just in case. Not that he's a very good judge; anything decently amusing is perfect in his eyes.
Soaring back to the bucket, Harper plucks another balloon in his beak, eager for his own turn. Leaping from the edge of the roof, he finds his target - a young boy, sticky-cheeked and squalling at his mother for some treat or another while she sighs in tired exasperation. Harper dives down, dropping the balloon over the child's head in a burst that has the kid shrieking in surprise and tripping, dropping his half-finished ice cream into the sand. Harper wings back to the roof, cackling glee in his throat as he lands. "Score?"
