“Byrne.”

“- Mr. Barnacle, I’m afraid that’s going to be a ten yard penalty and detention, at midnight, in my office! Bring an electric eel, a raven, and a connivin’ little putty tat, for good measure, we’re getting frisky.”

Zeke decides to bother standing up. Neighboring tables are either staring at them or pointedly-avoiding-staring-at-them.

“Say whatever weird cryptic riddle you came here for and then fuck off.”

“Try more aerobics, sugarplum, that shirt makes you look fat.”

“Literally gonna murder you in five, four, three, two...”

“Your writer needs to give you more filler episodes, jeez. Go find someone dead, then one in a guise, and watch out for the man with a colorful eye. And eat fewer carbs, we’re not paying you to eat all the hors d'oeuvres on set.”

And then she... disappears in a puff of smoke?

“Everyone totally knows that you’re just invisible, there are way more invisible bards than there are teleporting bards, you’re, like, not as cool as you think you are - whatever.”

He sits back down.

Elsewhere in the city and slightly elsewhen, a blackbird is flying . . . strangely.  For one, it darts and weaves between and around spires and crooked towers, occasionally circling one entirely; for another, it's going a lot faster than most birds bother to, even though it's not covering much distance - ahem -  as the crow flies.  For a third, after a relatively lengthy display of aerial acrobatics, it dives, straight down, before pulling up about two stories from the ground to descend at a bit more of a reasonable speed, and finally alighting on a well-muscled shoulder.

"I think these routes are fine during rush hour, but we should probably either add a bit to mine or take off a bit of yours for when it's less crowded," the owner of the shoulder says, reaching into a pouch on her belt and taking out a bite-sized bird snack.  "It's just too much of a straight shot; I was waiting here for a really long time here before I even saw you."  She pops the snack in her own mouth and starts walking to an edge of the plaza.

"Uh, iono, like, twenty or forty seconds?  I forgot to count it."

"Well next time you be the faster one, and then you can remember to count it, how about that."

This gets her ear bitten, although not hard enough to actually hurt.

"Ow - okay, sorry, geez - "

- someone suddenly falls onto them after appearing in a puff of smoke! 

She squawks in alarm.

The mysterious falling woman huffs, dusts herself off, and stands up.

“Rude.”

She checks to make sure the bird is okay, then turns to the dropper.  "Are you all right?"

“My poppycock is irreparable, my gibbers are jibbed, and within a week the embarrassment of this event will make my willpower dissolve into a fine, delicious stew, heated over the flames of my despair, lightly salted with smooth jazz. I’ve never been better.”

". . . Good?"

“I bet you use ellipses with all the girls. Do you want to hear a secret?”

"Yes."

“Promise not to tell? Just you and me, no third person involved.”