He did not think answering her question as of now would be simple enough. What Grave ate exactly was always up for much scrutiny. In addition to exactly how he ate it as well. It wasn't a pleasant scene for sure and most people were horrified when they accidentally spied on him. That was usually three or four minutes before they returned with their quintessential mob, armed to the teeth (sometimes literally) with their pitchforks and swords and torches and other weapons of mass destruction. Preferring to avoid mass slaughter, Grave left without protest and went on to the next destination, wherever that was, in search of a master worthy enough of his services.
He walked into the Inn and sat down in a chair that was too small for him and set the tiny doll on the table, smiling awkwardly at her for a short moment. Just then a waiter came over and, since they were used to getting all sorts of strange guests, he thought nothing of the awkward giant behind the table and said, with a bland smile, "How can I serve ye sir!?"
His mood was far too cheerful than Grave would have liked and he wasn't sure what there was to eat. "Hmmm," he grunted again... He knew he wanted something large and fleshy. "Turkey," he said blankly. He hoped they had a whole turkey for him.
