There are very few people who should know the bird's name, and none of them should be here. The man and the bird's heads snap around toward the sound of that name like they're both attached to the same mechanism, Swain's free hand glowing with the beginnings of a magical bolt of energy and Beatrice letting out a hiss and puffing up her feathers. The display ends as quickly as it begins, however, when Swain sees who called his "pet's" name.

"Ah, LeBlanc. Fancy meeting you here," he says, walking over to her and inclining his head in greeting.