She's down another...well, what passes as an alleyway on this hunk of rock, collecting her bearings and sifting through a sack full of spoils she lifted from shops successfully broken into.

Models of ships, jewelry, scraps of armour and weaponry...and she's in the process of examining a pretty yellow angelfish in a sealed transport jar flitting about, obviously stressed from her travels, when she hears her name through the not-so-silence of a chaotic district.

Still holding the jar she stands, kicking her bag off to the side as though it'll do her any good, and her expression remains blissful and innocent.

"Hawke! Fancy bumping into you out here!"