You sat down at the bar, a couple seats from Fell. Fell had his head on the bar, mustard bottle in hand, but when you sat down he lifted his head to look at you. It's not very often he sees a new face at Grillby's. His eyes narrowed as he took in your features and he started smirking to himself. His mustard goes breifly forgotten about as he decides to sit right next to you, purposefully getting in your space. His eyes were locked on you, a shit-eating grin on his face.