The bird watcher failed to see how her speech applied to him. He stared at her blankly, before holding the bag up, pointing to it, and noting, "I'm not the one who put the bird in the bag, you know." In fact, he wasn't sure how detailing the extent of her injustice toward the bird had anything to do with him at all, but maybe all the natives around here liked to hold morality speeches this early in the morning. Hey man, whatever floats your boat.
Apparently, she was a nomad, something he wasn't expecting. "Really? Same here — minus the 'game' thing. I go wherever the birds are." It was probably pretty obvious looking at Janson, but he wasn't one for hunting; gods, he was all skin and bones, not cut out for tasks that were too strenuous. With his wiry form, he wasn't someone who could handle that kind of lifestyle, despite the fact that he did move around a lot.
She wished him a good day, leaving him with the rucksack. He took one look at the bag, then another look at her retreating form. "Hey, don't you want..." he started, but then shrugged, opening the bag. Like she predicted, the bird came at him, angrily at first. Janson's affinity for birds, however, was handy in these situations.
He hummed a tune under his breath, and gently held out a finger towards the bird. Cautiously, the tern sat on his finger, staring at him curiously. The bird watcher, with nimble, experienced fingers, pet the bird carefully, stroking it, until feathers dislodged from its form. He took up the feathers and thrust his finger upward, and the tern flew up, away, back to its nest. Quickly, he collected his charcoal and sketchpad, shoving that, along with the feathers, into his messenger bag. Affinity for birds or no, the tern would probably be angry when it noticed its eggs were missing...
"Hey, wait up!" he called, jogging to catch up with her. He was pretty quick for someone so slender, and managed to make his way back over to her easily. He turned, jogging backwards so that he could see her face. "So, I think we got off on the wrong foot back there," he said, and placed a hand to his chest. "I'm Janson — bird watcher, scout, and evidently, the most annoying person you can hope to run into in the morning." His self-deprecating humor usually lightened up a situation. He grinned, and held a hand out toward her. "And the lady with the fiery temper must have a name, right?"