Hardly startled or offended, Corwynn might have lingered, shifting in his seat to maintain contact instead of shy away. Typical behavior, though his expression hardly changed as if he felt it unnecessary to draw attention. Nothing out of the ordinary, to be sure, even as he settled into the conclusion that the stew was neither dangerous nor inedible, just unexpected.

"... not that canons require any talent other than at least one eye. Maybe a few fingers to light the fuse." The older galdor added after a mouthful of thoughtful chewing and swallowing, "Is that how you got yourself scuttled, then? Or is that not a good topic for casual conversation?"

He offered a wolfish grin, curious but not really looking for trouble. Much.

"Canons have all the grace of a one-legged confisalto dancer." Rosalie shook her head, once, and perhaps that was the answer to his question, as well. It certainly was the best he was going to get. She turned the bread deeper into her stew, considering with her head tilted to one side and foot cocked just so to settle her toes against his ankle.

"...this isn't particularly good." Rosalie didn't try to keep her voice down about the mediocre food, either. She shook her head, dropped her spoon into the bowl and leaned back -- eyebrows raised in question, suggestion. "I'm not quite hungry enough for it, I don't think. You want to walk?"

"Yes, that's about right." Corwynn answered nothing in particular and everything at once, from canons to food to possibly leaving with a chuckle, one hand straying for coins to leave on the table with only a bit of reluctance. What he set between their plates was sufficient, with only a hint of a tip, if one could consider a few pennies a tip at all. The gunman didn't, but was more or less making a statement of his general dissatisfaction.

Sliding his feet away to stand slowly, Corwynn's smile turned sly in time with his motions, if only because he was unable to resist both the innuendo and the opportunity to enjoy firearms, "I get to take you home, then? Or is there more shopping before shooting?"

"What, are we suddenly at Brunnhold, making you shy?" Rosalie considered the tip, considered leaving more coin -- and decided against it. The serving girl hadn't really earned it. Instead she reached for the box with one hand, hauling it somewhat possessively against her side, and offering the other to him with the obvious intent that he lever her up to stand. The roll of her eyes was more teasing than annoyance. "We'll go shoot some cans. Or a wall; we'll see where it starts."

"If there's anything I'm not—or ever have been, even as a schoolboy—it's shy." Scoffed the blond galdor, mocking offense even as he took Rosalie's offered hand and helped her to her feet with well-practiced gentlemanly flair. Instead of relinquishing the passive's hand, Corwynn leaned a little and placed her hand on his arm and snatched up his bag of spices with a laugh.

"You'd better not be putting any clocking holes in any of my clocking walls this afternoon, thank you very much." He purred, shaking his head as he mostly led, somewhat tugged the both of them away from the table before their waitress returned. It wasn't really a short walk, either.

"If you do, I'll know it's on purpose anyway."