He was ... Sitting backwards.

It threw her off, completely off. She had never seen someone use a chair like that, literally turn it around to the opposite direction it was designed for and sit on it in a way that had to be uncomfortable. Had to be. Normal humanoids didn't have legs like that - of course she was an exception, but honestly, it was just - it looked awkward. It confused and confounded her and she just stared at the man, or boy, who had at first disgusted her, then intrigued her, and now bemused her.

She looked down at her own legs, with their funny bendy knees and fur and muscles and hooves and made a face before clopping over to the table he had chosen. The bard was back on the stage, and that was very nice because he was pretty good. His fingers expertly curated a melody out of spare notes left over from his earlier recital that satisfied her spirit.

Celandine found a chair and sort of crashed into it with a huff. "Why backwards?" She asked. She might as well be straightforward. She had already thrown away all cordiality on the staring at him and poking him with the knitting needle.

"You're sitting backwards," she frowned. "It's odd. You are weird. All dirty and okay you're an adventurer you say, which this place is full of apparently, but ... No," she shook her head firmly, pointing at him in the air, sans needle now. "You're weird. And I've met a lot of weirdos. My mum likes to collect them."

An elf seemed to appear suddenly at their table with a tray and a pinny. In a soft voice she asked if they wanted anything to eat and Celandine paused before she gave an order for some chips and roasted vegetables.

"No meat," she turned up her nose. "Though this weirdo likes to eat meat. Barbarian."