Magne knows when she's being stared at. Call it a sixth sense, paranoia, hypervigilance perhaps, but she can feel it on the back of her neck as she moves about the dining room making sure that drinks are filled and soup and various sweet potato offerings are available to all that want them.

She knows Cerrit from a distance. She's heard about him, and identified him as one of the enforcers without daring to approach him. It's her own anxious habit; after all, she knows that she hasn't done anything wrong, she has no reason to be suspicious of him, nor he of her, but...well. It's ingrained. Nothing personal. His bird-ness bothers her about as much as Spinner's gecko-ness had. That is to say, exactly none at all. It's the uniform and the authority.

"If I say yes does that land me in hot water for something?" She quips in return, one hand on her hip and empty tray hanging from the other.