Your normal urge to jump in and save people kicks in. You grab this urge, choke it firmly, and cram it in the bottom of your soul where it won't interrupt the show.
This is gonna be /good/.
Piercing Cry is trying so hard to fold her arms indignantly and she can't because she's still chained up. "I told you, I'm not using that name!"
"You used to love that name," the Reverend notes, in the suspiciously amused tones you've come to associate with both priests and your Grandfather. "You carried that tooth around with you everywhere."
"Not in front of the necromancer, dad!" Piercing Cry protests, helplessly.
"You even gave it to your daughter," Crashes Often continues, a note of hurt entering his voice.
"I - you - /not relevant/!" You could cook an egg on her indignant blush, you swear to the Raven. "Aren't you supposed to be on /my/ side?"
"She raises a decent point," the Reverend muses. "Ms. la Croix, how did she come to be shot?"
"She was scouting for the Lush and I didn't need my activities reported," you admit. "She'll fly again, especially once we actually heal her. We've sort of just stitched her up for the moment in the interests of her not flying back."
"That sounds like a fairly reasonable justification for getting shot," Crashes Often points out. "I keep hearing chains. Broken Tooth, are you in chains?"
"My name is /Piercing Cry/!"
The Reverend gives a theatrical sniff. "Abandoned, by my own daughter..."
"Dad!"
"Whom I loved and raised from her egg with my own hands..."
"/Dad/!"
"I hope you never experience such betrayal, Ms. la Croix. The sting is un-"
"FINE DAD USE WHATEVER NAME YOU WANT JUST STOP!"
You're trying to confirm that the harpy is in chains but you're too busy laughing yourself to death. You can feel it coming on, the warm embrace of the Veil, because you can't fuckin' breathe and it just is not getting less funny. River actually pats you on the back between her own chuckles, amusement dancing in her eyes.