Bastien watches the transformation, his interest stronger than the fact that it threatens to give him the willies, and then smiles to himself at the image of Mado-as-a-bird inside the print shop, fleeing cats, springs into his head. Of course it would not happen that way. Not least because he could turn back into a man and put the fear of the Maker into the cats. But it's funny.

"Try," he says, crouching as if to tie his boot. Instead he is untying one, just enough to extract the flattened fold of leather that holds his lock picks. (Not that he knows anything about criminal histories.) "I will race you. Loser buys drinks."

It's not a set-up. Picking locks isn't his forte, and hard to disguise from any passersby who might peer into their alley. It'll take him a little while.