"Ah, perhaps you could strike a pose. Something fearsome, perhaps," he says lazily. "I suppose that might impress them. Or make them feel better about themselves. Such is life.

But I suppose that's below your dignity. Do they have anything interesting to say here, or do they just talk your ear off until you sleep?"

It's crowded, the Murkrow says, after a moment. It's very narrow here. There isn't much room to breathe. I can't say a lot about the people. I didn't watch them. He doesn't concern himself with the business of humans, overmuch. Only if they engage with his charge.