Eva would answer, if she were the type for pithy one-liners in the midst of combat. While humor makes an appropriate shroud in the Capitol, she's long shed it here. There's no point in wasting one's breath explaining herself to someone she's going to murder.

Honestly, there's no point in even remembering Hawkeye is human and not some overgrown bipedal boar to slaughter.

The spear's out of her hands, but Eva quickly moves to make sure that it can't be in his either, lurching to put her body between her and it as it clatters over roots and dirt. Her right hand swings back behind her body, finding its hold along the shank that she's made. The spearhead catches a stray string in the back of her pants that remains tangled around the point when she brings it forward to stab at Hawkeye's gut.

She meant to skewer him, not startle him, and she's aware that the longer she spends trying to kill him the less likely she is to accomplish her goals. She's a middle-aged woman with a limp; her advantages are surprise, experience and fearlessness, not combat skill. She throws herself forward with the spear head aimed at his stomach. Five steps to collide.