A grin lines her lips with the lightness of butterfly wings. The drink was cool and sweet and fizzy. The cherries had been delicious, this was certainly a good life for the far child. Well, at the moment it was. She still had no family, no one to look after her except for herself, but maybe that was how it ought to be, Maeve living her life along, only herself to keep her company, meeting people along the way, people like Tobi and Roman, but ultimately, along, her own family. She closes her violet eyes for a moment, in contemplation, but they flutter open as she hears the sound of the bar's door opening and then closing once again.

She would never have guessed her sipping a glass of wine would ever cause a stir. Whenever she had asked her foster mother if she could try wine the response had simply been 'it is not for children.' Of course, Maeve had probably only been five or six when she has asked and she thought perhaps when she was older she could try it, and she was a whole eight years old now. She knew getting older came with certain privileges. Such as she was able to play with certain toys she had not been able to play with when she had been five, she could even stay up later to watch the television, she was allowed to go to sleep overs. So, to the young child's mind, drinking the ruby red wine was perhaps just another something that Maeve had not been able to do at five years old, but now that she was eight, now, now maybe she was allowed to. While the logic may sound solid to an eight year old, there was still so much for the little fae child to learn.

A pretty brunette comes into the bar and violet gaze goes to her, but when she notices the girl coming over to her, Maeve turns her head and peers down at her Shirley temple, suddenly shy, though a gentle smile does cross the girl's features as the woman comes over to her, a question coming from parted lips. "Sure," she responds shyly, her voice quiet, but bright, obviously excited by the prospect of another joining her. She takes another sip of her drink before raising those lavender eyes to the stranger as she orders the same as Maeve. She laughs quietly to herself, she had never seen a grown up order a kid drink like a Shirley temple before and the though amuses the young child. "It is really good," she says, her voice raising above the whisper to nearly a normal level as she grabs the second cherry off her swivel stick and slides it into her awaiting mouth. "You can ask for two cherries like I did, it makes the drink a lot better," Maeve says with grin, her pale face radiating with a happiness to be in the company of another.

"I like your name, Arya," she says brightly, a smile on her fair skinned face. "My name is Maeve," she responds, tucking pale, creamy hair behind her ears as she slowly kicks her feet underneath her, unable to actually touch down any where, her feet free of obstacles due to her small stature. Her question about Disney movies brings those violet eyes in an attempt to look to her backpack, remembering that Moana stood fiercely on the back of it with her pals, the rooster and the pig, which, not having seen the movie, Maeve is unsure of who they are. So Maeve nods in response gently. "I like the Tinker Bell movies." Of course she likes those, having taken a certain liking to the fairies of pixie hollow ever since she found out about what she truly was, that she was no human, had never been one, but was a fae being, although not exactly like Tinker Bell and her pals. Another thought pops into her mind as she turns to the seal girl again. "I like Belle too, because she likes to read books like me. I read all the time," she says excitedly. If there was one thing in this world Maeve loved her entire heart, it would be books and the pages within them that took her to new lands, led her to new faces, and carved paths for wild adventures. Books gave her knowledge, information, and they gave her different views of the world around her. A book worm through and through.

The sound of another approaching the pair draws the fae child's attention away from her current company as she watches a man with ebony locks approach the bar, coming over to Maeve's free side. She is stunned by his multifaceted emerald eyes, and his deep voice. She peers out at him from underneath long lashes, tucking creamy hair behind a delicately pointed ear. As he turns to the child and directs a question towards her, she feels her cheeks grow warm for an instant, before a smile comes to her lips as she stares up at him. "No, she isn't, I like her," she says, flashing a wide grin back to the were seal to let the girl know that they would surely be friends now. Children, so trusting, so willing to disregard every ounce of danger for even a moment of joy, like that of finding a new friend.

Maeve is distracted by the bartender, whose name was apparently Dale, as he comes over, talking to the mane with that dark hair and eyes as green as springtime. Tetradore was apparently his name, and Maeve cocks her head slightly, what a strange name, she thinks. Those delicately pointed ears catch Tetradore's next words and she feels her mouth part slightly in surprise by what the young child has just heard. Maeve herself had never spoken such a word, but a boy in her class had dared to utter such profanity towards another boy and he had earned himself a swift talking to and the teacher had told all the children that this was a word people ought not to use. So to hear it come from his mouth so effortlessly, Maeve is entirely shocked, her world turned upside down.

But she stays quiet for the moment as the interaction between the men continue until a menu is plopped in her hands and violet eyes begin to skim over her options after briefly glancing at the emerald eyed man and nodding in response to this question. Lunch would be good, yes. There were so many foods, but, being a bar, a kids menu seems to be unable to be spotted causing Maeve to frown slightly. She had always loved when her foster parents would take her out to eat, because typically she would receive a menu and crayons, and although she did not participate typically in the puzzles and games offered, she did use the opportunity to draw, another one of the child's favorite activities. But here the fairy child has no crayons nor paper to color on, so she hums thoughtfully as she scans the menu. "Can I have macaroni and cheese?" She asks, her eyes sparkling with a plead, for mac and cheese was so very clearly not on the menu, but it was the child's favorite meal and she thinks perhaps an exception could be made, for many of the items listed were not particularly...friendly for a child's finicky taste buds.

Having made her order, Maeve now turns her attention to the one named Tetradore (however silly of a name that may be.) Too short to simply reach up to him, the child drag her feet up from their hanging position and tucks them underneath her so that she is able to rest on her knees and she leans over to whisper into his ear, her voice soft and gentle like one would expect a comforting blanket to be. "You said a bad word earlier, I don't know if you know this,'' she says briefly, quietly, as not to embarrass the man about his foul language, she was not some impolite brat after all. She pulls away then, smiling in a way that tells the man she will not hold such use of words against him, that all was forgiven, people make mistakes. She slides her legs from underneath her and lets them dangle under the table once more as she continues to peer up at him, closing her eyes in the form of a blink once or twice as she ponders for only a moment. "Is Tetradore really your name?" She asks curiously, amethyst eyes scrunching in consideration for a moment. She turns to Arya then, having realized the two knew each other. "Is it?" She asks the girl with long, brunette hair, as if she needed to confirmation from both for assurance of what his name was. "My name is Maeve," she says extending her hand out him, a delicate little thing, with her pale, soft skin. And upon her face, an innocent smile that just doesn't seem to quit.