"Thank you," she mumbled across the table, digging a hand into the pouch at her belt and coming back with a few copper pieces, which she passed over to the nug roaster in turn. He gave them a brief, suspicious glance—it might have been more inspired by the fact that they were coming from a Brand (or someone who looked like one—Signy still felt awful thinking of herself as genuinely casteless) who was sharing a meal with a topsider, than by any actual doubts about her coin.
Taking the ale and the plate, she turned, and looked over the encampment. It wasn't really a chairs and tables kind of place, at least, not that Signy had seen thus far. All of the tables were taken up by merchants (presumably because they'd brought those tables here themselves). Much the same was true of the chairs. "I'm fine sitting on the ground," she said, after a moment, although she said it with enough of a stress on the fine that she could just have said what she meant: I'm going to deal with sitting on the ground because there's no other option. And because I am hungry.
It felt as though her stomach was growling even more loudly, now that she could smell and hold and see the food; she cast about for a likely place to sit. One that wasn't … directly underneath open, unrestricted sky.
"Me, travel?" Signy blinked. "I suppose—well, no, that's not what I had in mind. But my plans are kind of incomplete for now. If you could even really call them plans."