She looks over at him, then away again, as if he is nothing more important than the feather resting on her toes. So while she watched the birds, he instead watched her arms and legs. Looking for recent scars, deep cuts that could have only come from a knife.

Folding his arms behind him, he approached cautiously, noting that, oh joy, she was right near a part of the ramparts where there was a straight drop. No scars on her arms, and on her feet. Typically the two places blood mages liked to cut themselves. Besides that, he couldn't recall a single blood mage who enjoyed watching birds out of sheer joy and not some sort of ...predatory intent.

He came to about five feet away from her, and looked off at the birds himself, and stated dryly, "So they tell me that you can read minds."