"Lesee...  Maize and cabbage and apples and walnuts and pecans and oil and eggs and butter and..."  Marty looked at the pile she'd accumulated.

She ended up with two full bushel-baskets of produce and another 20 pounds of ingredients.  Which was much more than she could possibly carry.  She looked to the grocer.  "Do you have a delivery service?"

Frances would nod when Rae said he was still invited. "Thank you kindly, Captain." he said. Heck she seemed like the one who lead this group, the nickname seemed fitting.

When Lorenzo patted his shoulder Frances would turn his head toward him. He gave a chuckle and nod. "Right, will do. And I appreciate it, thank you." He said.

While thinking Frances noticed that the shop keeper was startled by him, but got his composer back quickly and didn't make a seen. He would ask "So, if I may?" he said to the group. "How about getting some lemons? I know some folks like dripping lemon juice on crab meat to give them a 'zing' in a sense." He suggested.

After a second he noticed Unit had stayed out.and decided to inquire a bit more on him. He has heard stories of possibilities of creating metal golums, but non worked, Unit seems to be a successful version. "Greetings there. I don't think we've properly meet, I usually had a mask and gloves on. Name's Frances." He said holding his hand out to shake his.

Rae will pay for the ingredients that Marty and Jennifer picked out.  Anything anyone picked out for the dorm party.  She eyes Lorenzo paying for Chi Chi but no one has said that was for the larger party, so she doesn't offer.

Jennifer practically fell over herself when she heard the word pet store. “Do they have Bezekira kitties?!” she demanded before beginning to gush about them “They’re soooo cute. Especially when their fur hasn’t quite faded to its natural light-bending translucency and they look like little snowballs. I used to spend hours just watching them at the arena breeding pits. Miss. Fierna loved to see prisoners torn apart by invisible claws.” her beaming smile turned to a pout. “My dad was allergic though.”

Chi-Chi slaps down her coins; she has a grasp on money, although this particular form of it is strange to her.

"Right," Artie says. "Rusty! Get the wagon." An unlikely sight, a warforged the size and dimensions of a ten-year-old child pops out from behind a candy rack. "We got us a escort mission."
"Yes, sir!" the young metal child (?) salutes and dashes off. The grocer turns to watch the metal boy leave; while his back is turned, Artie motions for another group of kids --a halfling girl in a polka dot dress, a somewhat humanoid mantis in overalls and a straw hat, and a dragonborn, taller than the rest but seemingly a bit younger-- dash out a side door with a couple of bulging rucksacks.
"Did your metal friend steal any of my candy?"
"Heavens forbid, sir. We're just a band of hopeless orphans, looking to help beautiful ladies and a lizard man take some corn to their dorm room and hoping against hope they might spare one tiny little morsel for us to split."