[The woman that strides up to him is rather terrifying in appearance--in large part, because of the leathery wings protruding from her back, but also because of the fangs and claws and ever so casual smile, and also that red smear across her nose that she's started applying again. Every so often the wings twitch, as if yearning for flight--like a grounded hawk, so to speak.

Hawke leans on over, just so, and then--proceeds to pluck one of the pamphlets right out from Robb's hands, eyes scanning it over critically before she drops it back into his lap.]

Can't imagine why, really, they seemed so perfectly nice. Quite willing to explain just what a leather-scaled winged jackrabbit was, in fact. [Clearly, tact is not something she likes to go in for.]