She whirls to face him, the cage swinging in her hand as she does-- and she has no trouble recognizing him even in this form. Not here, not now, not when she wears his blood at her throat.

Ice-blue eyes meet black ones, and she holds his gaze as she smiles in turn-- sweet and dangerous and heartstoppingly bright.

"Pretty bird." The light soft voice is musical and gentle, and not quite mocking. "Not upset, are you now, when I am simply using what you have yourself shown me the way of?"