Sitting also at the bar is a tall, yet somewhat scrawny, man. He wears plain leather armor, and a long red robe. He looks over and stares at the werehawk in awe, though not quite the same awe as all the other men in the bar. He quickly moved over to sit by her. "Good evening, miss. A gfine night, is it no-" He stops midword, his easily flowing, friendly voice cut short as he dashes back to where he had been to fetch an ancient looking tome he had left. "Sorry, sorry." He says upon returning.
"Where was I, yes yes, a fine night, is it not?" He smiles warmly.His blue eyes glint lightly to show the gears of his mind are turning.