"I feed them every day, they're pretty tame," shrugs Rhea.

Trouble investigates Rhea's lap for stray crumbs. There's one!

"They only like me for my food," Rhea yawns.

The man looks at them for a moment longer, and at the pigeons still eating the crumbs at Rhea's feet, and shakes his head and moves on.

Snuggle snuggle.

"Was he a cultist?" Rhea whispers when he's out of earshot.

<No way to tell,> says Trouble. <Unless I follow him around for a while to see if he does anything culty.>

"Like what?"

<Culty things. My talking pigeon friend - call her Titania - might get cranky if I tell you the details.>

"She's already cranky."

<Crankier.>

"How's that even possible? What'll she do, hang you from the ceiling of the pooka nest by your thumbs?"

He giggles. <Nah, that'd be fun.>

"Weeeeirdo pooka."

"What would she do? Are you gonna be okay with a cranky pooka queen to go home to?"

<Yeah, I'll be fine, don't worry about me.> He nibbles her fingers.

"Okay." Pet pet.

Snuggle snuggle.

"Titania's the queen, right? Fairy queen? Her and Overlong or whatever his name was?"

<Yeah, from Midsummer Night's Dream, I figured I'd go with the Shakespeare connection,> he says. <Since she didn't pick a nickname herself.>

"Is there a pooka king too?"

<Maybe.>

"Aww." She sighs. "I don't know whether I wanna tell her I'll help. I don't know what she'd want me to do."