You can tell a lot about someone based on how they clean meat off of bones. Is it a delicate process of picking off a few hanging pieces of chicken from a coveted wish bone, or are scraps of meat just a pit stop on the way to cracking open bones for the marrow?
I've dated a woman whose whole family sat around a meal so that all that was left of a chicken was splintered bones, like scraps around a firewood cutting block. The grandmother was drinking white wine with gin, which I never knew was a thing, but I would guess there is some rhyme somewhere that says you can mix any alcohol that is the same color.
Or there was someone I was seeing briefly that had no problem nibbling raw meat off of a marinating piece of steak just to see how the flavor was adding up.
And I've watched friends who's teeth turn into sandpaper and saws as they grind off the last scrap from a bone that leave the calcium structural element comically white like cartoon dinosaur bones.
I'm not sure I have a 1-to-1 correspondence between exact personality traits and the way of cleaning bones, but I can feel the relationship in some way. It's like seeing indigo: it's hard to connect verbally, but when I see it, everything makes sense.