We are, but... they're kind enough not to rip us limb from limb right away. So I wouldn't call them primitive to their faces. [He says, as if the creature would understand it. So far, it seems unaware it's being insulted, but still narrows its eyes at the two. Their intentions were unclear, after all.

Newt aims to change that, stooping to lay the case open before rising back to his feet. He withdraws a... stick? A well-polished stick, that shimmers with a mutter under the terribly simple human's breath. The trilk's narrowed eyes widened, but it didn't dare come any closer.]

We only need to coax it in. [In the leather case. That is around the size of the thing's head. His Recurrence sure is something.]