Soren poked at Riley gently with his beak. "Classy? You want classy birds, find yourself a talking flamenco or whatever those pink shits are called." Not like the pink shits in question were natives of the areas that the valravn had visited over the years, so the name fumble was perhaps understandable. "I've lived on battlefields for more centuries than I care to recall. So I know every insult and curse known to man in a dozen languages- classy doesn't really enter into it." Realizing that he might be a bit heavy for extended arm-perching, the big raven took a quick glance around to make sure there were no onlookers, then hopped off Riley's arm, a brief swirl of shadow and muggy heat as he shifted to his human form, straightening up and rotating his shoulders and straightening his jacket with a wince as he walked over to his former perch, which had been upset in the ruckus. "Bah. I can deal with people being rude or snarky or doing the whole 'oh it's not real' thing, easy. Doesn't really bother me, and I can give them hell and it's just part of the act. But no one fucking grabs me." he growled, hunching his shoulders in close in an almost defensive manner.