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Al-Janah hummed at that, though, amused, his head cocked to the side. It was a lot of questions -- but they weren't, really, questions that could hurt them. At least, the answers Al-Janah could give wouldn't hurt them, even if he told the truth. It was clear he was thinking about it, gold eyes bright and thoughtful and narrowed, just a touch, as he took MuCephei in.

"We'll do a trade. Each time I give you an answer, you tell me a bit about yourself." He smiled, sudden and wide, eyes opening all the way again, and planted his feet. Settling in. Comfortable. "A little bit of you show me yours, I'll show you mine. Deal?"

It was exactly the deal he'd been trying to make so -- excellent. His smile in return was sharp, pleased with himself. Quickly, he dipped into a bow, low enough to be mocking, straightening out the front of his vest as he stood again. He was a bit roostery -- especially with the hair, with the tails, with that expression on his face. But the glove on his wrist, as he held it up, spoke to the truth of the matter.

"Al-Janah, of Falconry." And with that, he pointed two fingers upward, toward the sky. "Did you want to see?"

His grin, at least, was unafraid: not terribly worried about the possibility of a fight. Hell, not even all that worried about the idea of having the s**t beaten out of him. It wouldn't be the first time, nor would it be the last. True strength was in getting up again, after.

"You want to trade more answers first?" He was still, absently, pointing upward. "This could end the friendly banter."

That got a derisive sort of sound, those fingers tapping against his arm instead of pointing again, but this time Al-Janah actually thought about it. His eyes on that long strand of hair curled around her finger, the smile sliding slowly off of his mouth toward something more serious. It was, actually, something he'd considered before. Maybe not at length but -- briefly.

"I don't give two shits about the politics." It was an important thing to say, probably, and came with a twitchy sort of shrug. "But I like my captain. And I like the rest of them. And I put my trust behind that lot more than a bunch of prissy wannabes running around and shouting from the mountaintops that they're the good guys."

His chin lifted, at that. "If you're the good guys, why the ******** are you here? Go to the ******** middle east. Solve the North Korea problem. Join the goddamned peace corp. Quit the bullshit."

"Like I said, I don't have any politics. Just friends, and compatriots. It's a matter of loyalty." He paused just a beat before he smiled at her again, though, shrugging a shoulder and tipping his head to the side.

"Well, that and I always played Hoard anyway. I do admit that it's a s**t ton of fun to kick over trashcans and smash computer monitors. And I'll start a fight as much for the fun of it as a desire to drive you white knight loonies to ground." And, on that, note, he pointed upward again, considering his attack. "Does that answer questions?"

It got a blink of surprise, amusement, another flash of teeth. He eased back one step, to settle on the balls of his feet, and tipped his head to the side as he looked her over.

"...of course I want to know what you do in a fight. But to even things out a bit --"

He finally pointed upward again, in a more victorious way this time. He really liked his attack, whether it was weak or not. Her opposite, in this way. Let Mu grumble about blood and its uses; for his part, Al-Janah was only too happy to summon his feathered buddy.

"Janah Quarry!" The bird would settle into place above her, in a slow circle, and he'd hop back another step, tempting her in closer. "...you are, after all, higher level than me."

He should have dodged but -- well, they really didn't look that harmful. And, in reality, they weren't. She'd been scratched, and he'd be scratched as well, marks that cut across his arm as he raised it to protect his face, mirroring what he'd done to her. Eye for an eye. It made him curse [creatively, hissing and shaking loose needles as he did].

"Jesus, that's the nastiest thing I've ever seen out of one of you." And he hopped back another step, swiping away the rest of the needles and dribbling blood, considering her expression. Above, the falcon still circled. It would continue to do so for another -- oh -- twenty seconds, perhaps, or until she tried to step out of the circle again.