She considers going after it - at least she can rest assured it's probably not another leaf-flavor - but it's a little too dark, too red for comfort. She reaches for the red-purple instead, pulling out a deep plum.

She's hoping it's actually plum, honestly, but not very strongly.

"You're not eating them?" she asks after a moment. He still hasn't given her a name, but that's not the oddest response she's had to a greeting in this bar.