' they're right gettin' along, aye? ' little blue bird and ciri's own rather raucous magpie, conversing and flapping in a flutter about god knows what. ' not often ye meet someone wit a feathery friend. 'ope 'e don't pick at ye like straw, ken. ' the idea's meant to be playfully friendly, really, seeing as his own robin would never.
‘Eh...’ She doesn’t agree just yet with that observation, finding Jek more akin to a bully than friendly play-mate, but then, he always behaves quite rudely and sometimes even violently... supposedly, the rapid chattering of his beak can be understood as much as a mocking taunt as a playful giggle. Magpies are more bold and sly than skilled acrobats, however. The blue one is agile enough to evade Jek’s meaner attacks. The pair is fascinating to watch, distracting her from the conversation: ‘...No... he only eats hair. And skin. And my food, and, uh. Everything. But not s-straw.’ Ciri clearly laments that he doesn’t; thinks about it for a moment, and then realises she’d misunderstood his words.                                  ‘...I mean -- no... yes, sir, I’m the straw.’
