There was a second plant person sitting with a Amari.

This gave Fenn quite a fright as he glanced back to the one that still stood frozen and staring at him. Her hands were knitted together tightly, expectantly, almost.

So, the plant-person-y-thing wanted to hug him? That wasn’t the first time he had elicited that reaction from a stranger, but, was he sure they weren’t working with bitch-tits over there? The boy’s waving stopped flat and the air grew colder as he glanced between hugger-to-be plant-person and sitting-with-Amari plant-person. Maybe they were just loose friends, or something? He was faintly aware of -- and dismissive of -- the floofy fox’s further snuffling intrusions up the right sleeve of his cloak.

Damn it, he was too intrigued to try and scare her off. Wanting to hug him seemed harmless enough. Slightly cautious, Fenn reached over to write on the table again. His message was aimed mostly at the hugger-plant.

HI. I FENN. YOU WHO? YOU WHAT? FAE OR NO? WHY VINES?

He flicked his ears, eagerly awaiting answers.