Eda glares for a tense moment longer, but she relents—mostly. Her grip remains loose on Tom's lapel (and perilously ignorant of the ooze epidemic) as she pulls back, as if the veracity of that information was a big deal and she might need to shake more answers out of him at any moment.

She hums a flat noise of contemplation. "Good. Though, me and cosmic omens have about a 50/50 track record. Not sure how I feel about bein' one." Then a self-satisfied smirk breaks out on her soot-smudged face. "But I get you. Owls are pretty important."

Why was she here, again? Right. This poor shmuck's stuff. The setup for swiping valuables out of his backpack was all wrong now. Though, she might be able to palm a piece of jewelry or pickpocket something...