Achen stared blankly up at the crow-thing that was stealing his trout. Well, Achen thought, it was technically partaking of the free buffet that had been promised, but this still seemed quite close to stealing when lock-picking was involved, and it was happening on his turf. Keeping the crowbar as nonchalantly at his side as he could while there was a demon who probably poisoned everything it touched and tore out the innards of half-grown humans for fun and-- Achen halted his train of thought to remind himself sternly that this was probably just some kid who'd found a spell for fake wings and now considered herself a witch. And he had firmly decided not to bludgeon every unusual thing that moved this week. That would be just the kind of antisocial behavior which had made this convention necessary in the first place.
Having stared long enough to create a decent awkward silence, and supposing that the person with a fish stuffed in their face was less-than likely to break it, he said through gritted teeth, "Welcome. Miss. Might you please. Conceal your wings. There are humans in the area."