-=Once inside, Hawke lifts his arm up to examine the cuts.=- They will heal, My Sun. The wounds I made myself. I am not injured anywhere else. -=He looks up with a small sigh, looking worse than a cat caught in the rain.=-



-=Meanwhile the Lockjaw watches Tybalt and gives a low rumble. Fortunately, that was a good sign. What was a bad sign was that the Lockjaw was moving his haunch to in front of the dwelling's door and plunked down like some giant hunting dog multitasking.=-