Pipin appeared before they could take another step.
The pale bird Aubrelle used to see stood in front of the apartment door, small claws planted on the floorboards, crimson gaze fixed on Trafalgar and Cynthia with the unnerving patience of something far smarter than its size suggested. Its head tilted once, feathers ruffling faintly as it inspected them both from head to toe, as if deciding whether Cynthia counted as guest, problem, or both.
Cynthia stopped at once.
"That is Aubrelle's bird, right?"
"That's right," Trafalgar confirmed. His suitcase rested at his side while he watched Pipin with mild amusement. "Looks like they already know we're here, so this won't be much of a surprise." He glanced at Cynthia and lowered his voice a little. "Relax. Everything will be fine. You don't need to worry about anything."
