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Polishing service
Shoes: Five new pence per pair
Cutlery or silverwear: Two new pence per item
Other: Price negotiable according to size
Extra penny charge for sharp things.

Will also try and repair things (1970s or before)

For service, knock on table.

Wellington is still trying to find ways to pay off his tab, preferably without being seen.

He's not had any customers yet, so he's hiding under the table wondering how to advertise. Or expand his potential trades.

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Ravin, in a good mood, slips onto the table. She knocks, and then reaches under to offer her knives to the womble.

Even still sheated, they do look like in dire need of cleaning and polishing, aye. They might have been heavily used lately.

"How are you wellington?"

"Okay thanks, still haven't found a full job though. You know I have an extra charge for sharps right? Can't use my paws for those. How are you?"

He sets to work on the knives, polishing as much as he can with his fur and getting out some cloths for the sharp bits.

"Yes I do." She lounges on the table while the Womble works under it. "Learning to use those to protect myself" That explains the dirt and wood bits, the practice dummy and the targets got a lot of a beating. "Will Scarlett is teaching me, you know him?"

"Oh yes, he's a very nice chap. Aren't these a bit dangerous?" he adds, wiping a smear of sap off one. "And would you like them sharpening?"

"If you can, sharpening is good too." ravin ponders a bit before answering the other question. "They are. But there are lots of dangerous things in my world, and I can not trust magic all the time to protect me."

"You hunt things?"

He gets a set of cloth-like things out of his tidy bag and sharpens the knives carefully.

"Sometimes, to eat. And sometimes, some things might decide to hunt me. Even if only for sport." Paladins would surely do that, to kill the 'monster' she is.

"Oh. But why are they hunting you?"

"Because I am 'evil'. They think I plan to kill them all and devour their souls." That is a hint of a smile. And that is visible, since Ravin just peeked under the table. "Because I am a demi-lich, they assume I am plotting great horrible things."

"Are you?"

"Most of the time, no." And Wellington gets the prize: Ravin is smiling.

Yes, she is joking.

"You eat soles? No wonder people get cross, I mean, we only take their shoes if they abandon them."

"Not soles. Souls. Spirits. Minds and essences of people, and no, I don't." The smile is gone; Ravin is back to her neutral, indifferent self.

"Oh. Do you need to eat them?"

"No. I do not eat them at all." A small shrug, and she lounges on the table again.

"Oh. Sorry Ravin, I didn't mean to sound judgemental. It's just easier to know the truth when there's things you don't understand."

He finishes the first knife and hands it back.

"Why don't you just tell them you're not a spirivore?"

"Because I am not. I eat normal things. Mostly." Even uncooked, its 'normal' eating. "And they would not listen. They see a pale girl with red eyes, cry 'demon', and attack, or run to call the guards to come after me."

"That's awful." Wellington looks up with sympathy.

"Have you tried sunglasses?"

"Nobody wears those back home. It would just make people suspicious." Damn medieval high fantasy clichè world.

"...a very big hat?"

That makes her pause and ponder. "That might work. Or a hood, a hood would go better with clothing back home." An idea to be worked out.

"There you go, where there's a will there's a way." Wellington says cheerfully.

"But it is worth the hassle? People will always think I am strange. Weird and wrong?" Another rare thing, a yawn. She is relaxing, and when she relaxes, acts more human.

"You think you look strange?" He holds up his big fluffy paws.

"You look normal for a womble, I guess. I look close enough to human for humans to notice the differences. People look at you and see you are not human. People look at me, expect me to be human, or assume I am a monster trying to look human. Anyway, they get weirded out."