Raven, you were lucky Jonothon cared. Not that he was into much, at the moment. He had a few sheets of paper out with some guitar tabs halfheartedly scrawled on them, but nothing he'd actually played, and nothing he was going to play while there was a strong corvid beak pecking at his belongings.

In his hard case, Strat was going to remain.

//You're going to muss your feathers up that way, Sunshine. You do know that, right?// It was a mild reprimand, really. He hardly meant it. Which he hoped she could tell by the way he was reaching to scratch the feathers behind her neck again.