[When she arrives, Diarmuid is still writing on the table. Oscar is curled up on the bed sleeping. He wakes briefly, raising his head, and growls softly at her, then curls up again and goes back to sleep. Not far away from him, near the far side of the bed, the injured goshawk is asleep on a makeshift bird stand.
Diarmuid pauses in his writing and looks up at her.]
no subject
Diarmuid pauses in his writing and looks up at her.]
Spell? What are you talking about, Beloved?