Nipples on a man, indeed. Birdie's laugh was more of a cackle as she leaned back and let her eyes close for just a moment. "I ain't tapped out yet," she said, waving away any apology in Cressida's tone. She was just doing her job; it wasn't anyone's fault how she chose to do it. "I just need a minute. And maybe a slice or two of cake when we git outta here." She could afford the calories now, and no one could tell her she couldn't have the treat. She'd earned it.
The chatter from Roger, combined with Gray's voice into the mix and what sounded like the start of a conversation from James was enough to have Birdie perking back up - no one was outright dead, and while James sounded rougher than a stack of 60-grit, talking Jaime was a sight better than slavering nonverbal monster Jaime. Which was why confusion flooded her features when Cressida didn't seem happy about it. Interesting to hear how you could just tell a swear was a swear in Russian, though, and Birdie made a mental note to have Cressida teach her how to swear a little in Russian later. It sounded like it felt real satisfying.
She did a little swearing of her own when the raven-haired Oracle walked blind out of the questionable safety of their alcove, intent on doing something stupid by her own admission. "I did not just fix you for you go to ruin all my damn work," she muttered to herself as she followed, conveniently ignoring the fact that she sort of had done that, field-healing Cressida the rough and tumble way in case her voice was needed a second time instead of taking her back to the Bandaid Station to do it proper.
Built-up charge made the air buzz against her skin, energy there free for the taking, and so she did. Little sips of it, pulled gently from the crackling atmosphere around them until the taste of it was on her tongue, ozone and stinging metal. Unpleasant but invigorating. She'd take it, because despite James' slow transition back to human and Grayson's added presence, the tableau in front of her looked more like a three-way standoff than a de-escalating conflict. For once, though, she kept quiet about it, waiting for cues from the others involved before she risked saying something that might make it worse. She wasn't much for talking fancy, anyway. Her way of defusing things involved the liberal application of home-baked treats and she suspected that wouldn't work on the ones who most needed it.