He was talking to an egg... a strange egg. Definitely not a chicken egg or a snake egg. Rowan watched, slowing her approach and then asked her question. He was pretty to look at, something Rowan could only have admitted thinking about someone maybe half a dozen times in her entire life. He looked... not dangerous or strange, but had an air about him that she couldn't quite describe.
Rowan found her gaze drifting back to the egg. Her attention snapped back to the man proper when she noticed him checking his pockets. The other corner of her mouth turned up, balancing out her barely present smile. She knew what that gesture and those words meant. He was broke.
"One moment," she said, a hum on her lips as she turned and walked confidently into the kitchen. She didn't say anything to the other employees, grabbing a bowl of stew, a hunk of bread, and a mug that she poured some of their middle shelf ale into. They stated at her and muttered under their breath a bit. Her tattoos didn't make her particularly popular, but that was fine. She didn't need to be popular.
Rowan used her elbow to push herself out and through the doors leading from the kitchen back into the main dining room. The bread was resting on top of the stew, already soaking up the skin of fat on top. She didn't think he would mind that much. Setting both the bo and the mug down on the table in front of Bobby, Rowan returned to her slightly aggressive stance.
"Eat. It's, as you say, upon the house." She was pretty sure that was how the euphemism went anyway. She had so many questions: what kind of egg was he carrying, where was he from, could she look at the spear he had. But looking at him, she felt her stomach tie up in a knot. It always did this when she wanted something, not allowing her to voice herself. But it was worse this time. Sharper, and heavier. She couldn't explain it.
"Ah, yes. Let me know if you require anything more. My name is Rowan."