The raven tipped his head back so one black button eye shone up in her direction. "Maybe I'm dreaming you," he replied slowly. The bird turned back again to gaze out at the swamp. A quiet few moments drifted by. The humidity from the swamp continued to thicken, and the insect-song seemed to increase in volume. The smell of cypress invaded the room.
"You wanna go for a walk, lovely?" the raven asked, with a brash edge of flirtation to his voice that seemed oddly mechanical, as if he was putting it on to reassure himself that everything was normal. "If this is a bit of my dream, there's a house down 'round the bayou that way." Inara had no reason to recognize Louisiana in the voice, but the thick "th" sounds to his words were rounding out to some light "d" sounds. He even sounded a little less... well. Raven.
Without a 'by your leave,' the raven hopped, flapped, and--if she was calm enough to allow it--settled on her shoulder. He was heavy.