There was something honestly appealing of owning something second hand, sometimes more than that. The life and story some pieces had to them, even if it was just something silly like 'this hat once belonged to Al Pacino', which had taken Circe a few tries to get the reference. While she was still picky enough to not grab clothes from the thrift store, a little too pedantic about knowing where those came from, Circe had no problem grabbing household items or baubles from the store.
She'd just secured a little side table, something that she'd accidentally broken in her shuffle from one place to the other, and was arranging a collection for the next day when she'd cleared some space and could actually spare the time to properly clear up and get it to her apartment. And now that she didn't need to worry about someone snatching up the furniture she wanted, she could browse a little.
When she spotted the large form of Roman, it wasn't utterly surprising, but it was a happy accidental occurrence to end up in the same place while she wasn't ordering food. "Did they have to throw you out of the diner to make you take a day off?"