Roleplay

Fyrestorm zipped back oveer to the stall, putting out the sparkler as he went, and tried to flip Bubblen back over, despite the cauldron being about half his size.
"Sorry! Sorry, I didn't realize that he would eat that- Don't eat that!"
He snatched the green goo away from the little familliar and hastily placed it back on the shelf, then fluttered back over to Mire's stand, fishing around for some form of currency among his many many pouches and robe pockets.
"How much for the spiciest soup you can make? I've eaten so much spicy food and drank so many strange alchemichal mixtures that I can't taste anything else."
(By the way, just to aid your character visualization, fyrestorm always gets around by flying, and it looks like a hyperactive hummingbird. His wings never stop moving, even when he does, because he just hovers in the air.)

Using the force that Fyrestorm was applying, Bubblen flipped itself over and glared at him, chittering. Evidently, the cauldron-like creature was not pleased about having 'snacks' taken away. Mire shook her head at her familiars antics "Honestly Bubble, you're such a pest sometimes" Bubblen skittered about under the shelf, trying to find a way back up. The Bogsneak rolled her eyes, turning her attention to the fae "Hm, a good question. I shall have to check my storage..." She pried open one of her chests and rummaged through it "Hmm, dried... dried... oh dear, damp...." She switched to another, mumbling too low to be heard.