A familiar sense of nervousness crept up the back of her neck at his comment. Mr. Echelon-Arnost's expression lacked the cool contempt of her husband (he was, in fact, grinning) but Freya couldn't help but dread her new friend's change in mood. It'd been a presumptuous mistake gifting Lysander the chick, she knew that now. It was a mistake she wouldn't dare make again.

Freya's grip tightened around the stem of the champagne glass, but she ensured there were no other outward gestures that he might catch onto. Navigating dangerous moods was her specialty, after all. "There's a way to disenchant it, I believe." Freya commented lightly. "If the chirping does become troublesome, I mean."