Mithridates grunts; an extraordinarily odd sound to be coming from a sparrow (and one he hasn't rehearsed lip-syncing with Miroslav). He then chirps to himself, flies around the room a bit, and returns to Miroslav's shoulder. "Somehow doubt I'll be suited for defense, no matter how 'pro-active' the task. Simply don't have the bulk," he murmurs as Miroslav walks over to a more offensively labelled door.