"How very gracious of you," Hawke says mildly, watching the Bulldog get punched and go sailing several feet back. Another one approaches, swinging wildly, and Hawke puts out a hand, seemingly doing nothing more than that. Yet a moment later there's a change in air pressure and the second Bulldog goes tumbling backwards into his friend, topping over him so neither is able to get back up just yet.

He sucks the last of his drink through the straw noisily, as if none of this really concerns him and he's just here to watch rather than participate. "We can do this all afternoon, if you'd like. You'll run out of steam far before I run out of magic or Jim runs out of fists."