Grog was having a strange day. Pike made him search for Craven Edge, which he definitely didn't have, even if she'd made him wonder about it. And he was hearing someone's dick songs in his head. (Which was actually loads more fun than any conversation he'd had with a sword anyway. They were great for killing things, but not the best talkers. It was always the moody sighing and talking about blood and hunger.)
It gave him a bit of a headache, really. But it was funny at least.
Still, he went out wandering, because he was hungry - he was always hungry - and hearing people in his head made it feel crowded, even if the loud was in his brain, not in the Keep.
Grog rarely kept track of where he went, but he usually could track his way back well enough, and he found new places that way. He followed his nose and made his way into some food place he'd never seen. Smelled good though. Grog fumbled around in his pouch for some of the paper money Vex had given him in place of gold and slapped it down, asking for "something with meat".
He grinned when the waitress gave him a look and then went off and Grog spun on the stool next to the counter, which wobbled a little precariously. At nearly nine feet of solid muscle, Grog was a heavy weight for it to bear. In his kilt and furred vest, gray skin and ample tattoos, he stood out even if he hadn't been giant - add that in and most eyes automatically went to him, but Grog paid no attention.
He cocked his head though as a flash of thought came through. Definitely not his, since he wasn't too clear on what "carbs and starches" were. But didn't sound like that Richie, either. "Fuck yeah, way to eat," he cheered on anyway.