She put the portable nest on the Cron’s head, to ensure he wouldn’t lose it.

“Is this how she usually treats you?” He snarled. “Am I supposed to put up with this level of disrespect on a daily basis?”

“You wish.” Crash scoffed. “This is her giving you the benefit of the doubt. Wait until you’re not on probation anymore, and you’ll see the real Selia.”

‘Maybe I worried about the wrong female.’ Bash pondered. ‘The mother sounds much more annoying than the daughter.’

Fenrir was clinging to his neck, gently patting his head and peppering it with kisses.

“Can we try your nest, mister bird? Pretty please?” She asked after feeling how soft and comfortable the quilt was to the touch.

“Sure.” He nodded, placing it on the ground below him. “And call me… Bash. No need for honorifics.”