where; st. mungo’s who; bilius @kxngdomcxme
He didn’t need a lecture. His mother had already given him a lecture. And his abeula had given him a lecture. And then his father had given him A Look, and then the front desk person had told him he couldn’t bring Shrike into the building, and now here he was at St. Mungo’s, cranky and in pain and without a bird.
Honestly, putting poison on Shrike’s talons had been a great idea until the bird had perched on his shoulder instead of his glove.
“Can we just,” he said through gritted teeth after he’d explained the whole situation again for the third time, “Hurry this up already? Eagle owls really like to get a good grip on you, and I can’t feel my arm any more.”
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