While Arid is busy looking over their attire and following the train of logic that lead to them being mistaken for trick-or-treaters at the door to this little clubhouse the sound of a wrapper being untwisted around a hard candy crinkles behind her. Hank turns the treat over in his fingers once before popping it into his mouth.

There's something odd in the flavor--a spice or extract he can't place--but otherwise it's close enough to a cinnamon candy for him to be content with the sampling.

"Oh-!" The little floating bot all but squeaks and for something so small and inhuman looking it certainly sounds polite enough to be a concierge droid anywhere Hank's ever been. "That's too bad. We all brought candy but no one else has come by yet."