"Clever" is a word Shang Tsung would humbly use to describe himself, so it isn't surprising he came into some coin quickly. Hayame had caught his attention long before her stomachs began to rumble, an eyebrow arching at the sight of the horse-woman entering the markets. Not quite like the late and unlamented Centaurian Motaro, but similar enough to pique the sorcerer's interest. He's wondering how best to approach her when her stomachs decide his course for him. He makes a few quick purchases of hot and filling food, and then approaches.

"Young one, you look as though you're about to collapse." He offers kindly, pulling a loaf of warm, spiced bread from his bag. "Please, before you faint." He offers it to her with a smile. It does smell...enticing, a fact that Shang Tsung had paid some consideration to in making his choice.