When someone walks through the courtyard, the birds fall silent, as if they had been plotting that person's demise and didn't want to be overheard and caught.
As darkness falls, there's a whoosh as they all fly off together, calling out one last threat. Or promise.
“Well, it’s not. I’m just the security guard. That’s it.”
“But you get to meet famous people. In real life. Your whole job is meeting famous people. You could get their autographs and sell them on eBay.”
“It’s not really meeting them. It’s just getting them into the building or their car safely. Without people like you bugging them.”
“Do they drive their own cars?”
“Would you, if you didn’t have to?”
“What are they like? I mean, really like?”
“Like anyone on the subway. Only a little less rude.”
“I still think it’s glamorous.”