It must be said, the Knave is by no means the sharpest beak in the murder. He is, fortunately, savvy enough not to loose any snobbish comments on pie-plumaged ne'er-do-wells. Another cherry goes safely down his gullet before the crow hops closer, head angled as he looks Loki up and down keenly. There is certainly something peculiarly familiar about this one; alas, he's not quite the bird to understand it.

"Our noble cousins, yes. There are none within our dominion, but we have met them before. But you are no magpie, featherless. Wizard or not."

He's almost certain.