[Nero's lounging on the couch, flipping through the pages of a big, thick book that does not at all look his speed. Especially not as he squints and scowls at the words, mouths them repeatedly, and generally seems to be struggling through it.

God damn. Vergil reads this stuff for fun?

He's distracted by the movement of wings, and looks up to see the bird sitting atop the fridge.]

Oh, hey. How'd you get in here? [He tucks a small slip of paper into the book and sets it aside, standing up.] Fresh outta birdseed, buddy... but maybe we've got some bread, if you go back on the windowsill.