Bobbi gasped in utter delight.
My brain short-circuited, and I struggled really hard not to giggle.
Liam’s nostrils flared. “Excuse me?”
“STAY,” Markie repeated, louder. “DOG.”
Liam lasted three seconds.
I counted.
One. Two. Three.
Then he went completely still, obeying the bird’s command.
Bobbi clapped her hands. “That’s good.”
I pressed my lips together so hard they hurt. “You just obeyed my parrot.”
“I’m in his territory,” Liam muttered without moving a single muscle. “There are politics.”
“Politics,” I echoed, stifling a grin.
Markie puffed up, feathers slightly flared. “GOOD DOG,” he announced. “SYSTEM STABLE.”
Bobbi covered her mouth, vibrating with joy. “He promoted you again.”
Liam closed his eyes briefly, as though reconsidering every decision that had led him to this living room.
“I am deeply offended,” he said.
“Are you though?” I asked.
His gaze slid to mine, but he failed to keep up the pretense of having any dignity left. “Yes.”
“You did what he said.”
“That was strategic. I’m playing the long game with Markie.”
Markie leaned forward again. “HEEL.”
Liam froze.
Bobbi whispered, “Oh my god.”
Markie cocked his head. “RESTART YOUR SHIT.”
I lost it. A laugh burst out of me, loud and uncontrolled.
Bobbi nodded solemnly at Liam. “You have been categorized.”
Liam exhaled through his nose. “I dislike this hierarchy.”
Markie settled back on his perch, entirely pleased with himself. “DOG.”
Liam crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, but he didn’t argue.
I laughed again, feeling weirdly content. The sun was setting, and my shifter caretaker had just been categorized as a dog by my foul-mouthed bird. Liam was still here, and he would be for a few more hours.
