He stared at the food, trying to make sense of what exactly what he was looking at. It smelled good and looked good, but he hadn't the first idea on how to actually use the utensils. In the prison, he had basically used his fingers, which was a proper thing when one did not have chopsticks, and he knew what a spoon was useful for - even if these ones looked a little shallow for anything useful. He watched people from under the cover of his bangs, and then made his own attempt with those strange, smaller sized hair ornaments people called forks. The sandwiches were regarded with much more relief because they were at least something a person could grip without dropping food all over the place.

The wine also was given all due consideration, mainly by a simple sniff and then a questioning 'Oro?' under his breath. He just wasn't sure, so he attempted one small glass of something that smelled a lot like apples before deciding that too wasn't to his taste. After eating and drinking a little to show willingness if not complete understanding, he walked around the room, greeting people with a smile and a slight bow, projecting the air of a humble and rather silly person, even if some of these people knew he wasn't exactly either.

"Oro?"

He almost had it too, but the fork skidded across the plate and he frowned at both the little tidbit and the fork before looking over at Lydia. The confusion on his face was probably more than enough explanation, even as the little black and white moogle that he adopted from the rescued group settled on his shoulders.

"I tried telling him he was holding it wrong, but he's such a darling silly," she said, tugging on a loose bit of hair.

"It is nice to meet others, that it is," he said, bowing in response, though when he straighten, he saw the ears and had to pause for a moment. But it was rude to stare and after a lifetime of getting stared at himself - no matter how subtle it was, red hair was still not natural to most of Japanese people - he quickly looked back at the food and the forks that were giving him issues.

"This one is Kenshin, a simple rurouni. Thank you, Zelda, for this party welcoming all of us here."

He really didn't want to seem rude, but she caught his look and was not offended. That was good because he knew some people could be easily find fault with the wrong look or the wrong words. There was a time in his homeland where a samurai could hurt someone for not even bowing the right way.

"Your goddess..?" He looked back at the shape of her ears and then smiled, ducking his head a little, his tone almost wistful. "That sounds like a nice legend to have, that it does."

"Yes, we all have legends concerning the world. One thinks that people have tales in order to shape what they may not understand completely or to remember what fear is."

His smile faded a little, looking at the food set out before reaching up to absently tug his hair free of his moogle's hands. He understood that the color was something that she really liked, but sometimes she just tugged on it too hard. It at least was a distraction from the legend he knew concerning himself. Ten years... and yet still the Battousai stalked the streets of Kyoto, though he at least had stopped one who used that legend for ill.

"Aa, one's pardon. One does not mean to speak of ill things here."

He looked up at the casual greeting, his expression torn between trying to puzzle out the words into some understanding and sheer confusion. Understanding won but barely as he nodded and decided that today was not going to be an easy day of learning new things.

"It is... going? One is unsure where it is going, but it doing so, that it is."

So maybe understanding was pushing it a little.