“This is babysitting,” Adrian said, handing you a laminated card. “Not parenting.”

You looked down at it.

EAGLY RULES

1. He eats at 6.

2. He likes head scratches.

3. Don’t let him watch the news. It makes him aggressive.

You looked back up slowly. “Why is this laminated.”

“Because I respect preparation,” Adrian said proudly. “Also he pecked the first one.”

Eagly tilted his head at you, feathers puffed, eyes sharp and judgmental.

You crouched to his level immediately. “Hi, Eagly. I’m going to be responsible for your safety tonight.”

Eagly screeched.

Adrian nodded. “He likes you.”

“Did you pack his food?”

“Yeah. Somewhere.”

You froze. “Somewhere?”

“Relax,” Adrian said. “He’s a bird. They forage.”

“He is a bald eagle,” you snapped. “A national symbol. You don’t ‘forage’ a national symbol.”

Adrian blinked. “Wow. You’re… intense.”

You ignored him, already inspecting the apartment. Windows closed. Fans off. Sharp objects secured.

“Why is there a knife on the couch,” you asked.

“For vibes.”

You moved it.

Adrian grinned. “See? This is why you’re perfect for this.”

“Perfect for—what exactly?”

“Watching my best feathered friend while I go do some light vigilante murder.”

You stared.

“…Don’t say it like that.”

He shrugged, grabbing his helmet. “Okay. Crime-solving with extreme prejudice.”