"What does he mean, he's got friends who can help?" Numair asked suspiciously.
"Not sure." It was a sunny day; Numair perched on a stack of lumber with his notebook open on his knees, while Hawk finished digging a hole for a fence post. One of the chickens, a barred black-and-white hen with yellow legs, came trotting over to inspect. Hawk added, "I know he's in some activist group in Escalus, though. Bet he meant them."
Numair paused. "Of course," he muttered. After some thought, and while Hawk measured the hole to make sure it was deep enough, he mused, "I suppose we will need some help with the receiver portion of this project...since what we're making here is just the antenna, really. But we'll get to that bit."
The hen was busily digging around the edges of the hole and inspecting the dirt. Hawk used a bit of spare wood to tamp down the bottom of the hole, sneaking a glance up at Numair from under his forelock of white hair.
"Oh, and uh," he started, "Vlad said you use he an' him. You know, as pronouns."
"That's correct," Numair replied, without looking up. Hawk flinched.
"Oh," he murmured, "sorry. I had it wrong in my head."
"No need to apologise." Numair continued drawing a little diagram of a humanoid shape, with the broad shape of a wing extending to one side. "My use of 'he' is arbitrary. I am neither a man nor a woman in any case. Those are not Aetherian concepts and I don't partake. How tall are you, by-the-by?" he added suddenly, as Hawk gently pushed the hen away from the hole, muttering at her.