"Ostrich?" He's less judging and more, well, impressed. Ned knows now that she's lived here and there and everywhere across the world, but having eaten ostrich before surprises him. He wonders if she did so as a human, or as a jaguar, or both. Did things taste different when she was a jaguar? Is that the kind of thing he can ask without being terribly rude?

Ned can hear her talking her way around specifics, and nods. There's a different kind of community, here, one in which all the secrets don't have to be so carefully guarded. Some can be aired, identities that are cramped with the constriction of long hiding can come out into the air and stretch. But other secrets, he knows, ought to still remain that way: for the well-being of the person keeping them. He respects that she doesn't say any more than that.

"Well, this... hunter. If he does start to be a problem, let me know, alright?" A moment later he realizes that offer may not be immediately clear, and so he elaborates, "I'm friends with some people. People who aren't all that fond of the kind of guy who would make trouble for someone just because she's a bit different. People who can help, if things get out of hand." People being, of course, Bruce, River, Erik, even Charles.