Head like a steel trap

seven nation army // the white stripes

He lifts his goggles, just enough to squint at her. Talon is perched on his shoulder, hunched over and plucking irritably at the ends of the ribbon. When he finds he can’t reach it very well, the bird lifts a foot, grasping awkwardly with his talons.

You are the ONLY ONE WHO WOULD'N COULD, LILLY.

He lifts his goggles, just enough to squint at her. Talon is perched on his shoulder, hunched over and plucking irritably at the ends of the ribbon. When he finds he can’t reach it very well, the bird lifts a foot, grasping awkwardly with his talons.

It’s then he pauses, backtracking to suddenly stare hard up at the man’s face. Things are slow to click into place, but once they do, he reaches out to nudge against the man’s hand with the neck and cap of an unopened bottle.

“You’re pretty far out of the way, stranger.”  A voice called out.

 Falling boots echoed as the woman dropped to her feet. Her tone friendly enough to let him know she was not some bandit, but held a wary note. Hunters and Hyperion, unwelcome guests alike– but at least the former had no intention of capturing her like a beast.

He shifts restlessly from his place perched haphazardly across the hunter’s shoulders, digging talons into cloth and leathers.

“Bah--” Mordecai swats at the bird with the cloth in his hand, murmuring somewhat irritably as Bloodwing nudges close with his beak, insistent. He’s quick to resume cleaning his sniper rifle, but still, the odd kneading and nudging persists. Finally, he turns-- just as an unfamiliar voice cuts through the quiet. Squinting through his goggles at the approaching figure, he tucks the cloth into his pocket, laying the rifle across his lap.