Oh, she was. She absolutely was. It had been a long time since Evian had had to talk with someone who used dissembling speech and methods, but it wasn’t something he was entirely unfamiliar with. That smug little half-smile as she dragged him along spoke just as much as if she’d said the words aloud. But as he’d said, it wasn’t as if he could exactly disagree with being called disheveled. So instead it was with a slight shake of his head that Evian let himself get dragged along by the tiny woman, as she pulled him along towards the stall she’d selected.

It was as upper scale as a little clothing stall in a market could get. It was better quality than most would get - but not completely outside of the range of what normal citizens could get. Sure, you’d see it more on well off merchants or farmers, but at the same time - if someone saved up for a week or two, they’d be able to get themselves a nice set of clothes. More in line with everyday attire than what Celandine was actually wearing right now. It was subtle, but her current clothes were just better quality than one would normally be able to get.

“Ah, afternoon to ye lad and lass! What can I get for you today?” The clothier was an older woman, plump and rosy-cheeked, who had a bright smile light up her face when she looked up from a register of some sort to see the goat-girl dragging along the taller man. She set the thin book to the side and stood up, dusting off her skirt as she beamed at the duo. “We’ve got some clothes on display, but I’m sure we have something that might be more to your tastes if what’s out doesn’t suit you.” Evian’s eyes flicked around, taking in the fact that there were several sealed cases behind the clothier. That made sense - clothes weren’t a rarity, but finer quality attire was more difficult to make. So keeping them closed up would make it harder for anyone with sticky fingers to just make off with one or two pieces of small clothes.

“Well, I just need a new set of trousers and a decent tunic. Not sure what the little lady’s looking for.” Evian spoke up, gently disengaging his wrist from Celandine’s firm grasp. The clothier looked between the two, her eyes flicking downwards, then back up. He supposed seeing a goat-human hybrid wasn’t exactly common - he certainly had never met one before Celandine. Though he was a self-imposed outcast, and had fled from Salvar, which wasn’t itself the most welcoming of places to magic.