Children were far more aware and sensitive towards the world than most adults would ever give them credit for. Especially such children as Maeve, who have always been more content to listen than to talk, and to watch rather than participate, to explore rather than to sit. So the child with creamy locks of blonde does not run from the man as a child surely ought to, especially a man they don't know, especially a man so big and tall, a man that could hurt such a delicate thing as she, but Maeve knows that no such action will come from the dark haired man, and so she stays, looking up at him with a smile on her face, the corners of her dark lips turning upwards into that bright grin. She enjoys the soft kiss of an ocean breeze, closing violet eyes if only for a fraction of a moment. And he smiles back at her, so she knows, everything will be alright.

As he winks at her, touching his own pointing ears, similar to the shape of Maeve's own, her soft smile only stays on her bright face, seeing no reason to allow it to falter. The young fae ever more curious about the man and how he too was not human, but instead just like her. It was something foreign to the unique child and yet incredibly wondrous how two soul could come to meet in most unlikely or places and become...connected. The pair have only known each other for the briefest of moments, not yet knowing one another's names, and still, the child knows there is something within each of them that no doubt will hold them together. But she does not tell the man this just yet, she thinks to herself that he will know soon enough.

As he introduces himself there is. gentle pause between his own words and her reply before those soft soprano lyrics of hers break forth. "A pleasure to meet you, Andras," she says brightly, reaching for his extended hand and grasping it with the lightness of butterfly kisses. She responds to his own chuckle with a short, light moment of laughter enjoying the feeling of her tiny hand within his larger one. She leads him inside and to a booth, heart thrumming excitedly to be sitting across from another such as herself, the curiosity burning within her like a wild flame. Her eyes hardly blink, as if fearing should she even close them for a moment, she will lose him forever and the opportunity of finding one of her own kind would be shattered forever, blown away as easily as sand in a wind storm.

Never has the child been such a talkative creature, until now it would seem. Ever curious of how she came to meet Andras or how he was here. She wriggles in her seat with anticipation to his responses of what she has expressed towards the fae man. At her mention of Tinker Bell, the man seems to almost grow confused and Maeve adverts her eyes slightly from his own gaze, hoping she wasn't talking to much or that he had not grown tired of her presence as so many of her foster parents had seem to. A quiet sigh fumbles from her lips as she lifts those strange amethyst eyes back up to Andras and sees that he is still smiling at her, even despite his little head shake. She tries to contain the happiness that thrums in her heart. The creamy haired child could not quite explain it, but she wanted Andras's acceptance or something akin to it, she wanted him to like her, she just wasn't sure how to go about doing such a thing. She lets her own feeble grin return to those lips rimmed in pale pink. And that grin is so sweet and thankful, because she realizes he is listening to her, and she even comes across the idea, that maybe he wants to listen to her talk with those high soprano lyrics of hers.

A smile ghosts across those pale lips as he tells her that he can do tricks as well. It must be common to have such powers among the fae folk. She is just wondering what his trick could possibly be when she hears his voice, but this time, Andras's lips do not move, and she hears the words not with her ears, but with her mind. "Oh wow," she exclaims, surprising a giggle. So unaware is she of his power of darkness, Maeve not even for a moment lingering onto such a thing, instead she beams up at him, taking comfort as he mentions he too has done terrible things. "You have done bad things too?" She questions him, as if making sure the words he speaks are indeed true. "But you aren't bad, you're nice," she says with a soft smile. His compliment towards the small child causes her to blush for just a moment, pink filling her cheeks with the softness of a pink rose in a garden.

The conversation then turns, as it always does whenever she speaks to an adult for just a little too long, to parents, and about her being out all alone. She ducks her gaze away from him, eyes closing before reopening, those bright amethyst eyes standing stark against her pale skin, a trait she had inherited from her mother. A crooked smile touches her lips before fading as she readjusts her violet gaze back towards Andras. For a moment it seems as if the child would not answer, but instead of shying away, she decides to embrace his questions, she could trust Andras, she just knew she could. "I am here aloneâ€"I ran away," she adds almost shamefully, knowing from what her social worker had said about running away being neither safe nor good behavior. "I have foster parents," she hesitates, "but I don't think they like me very much." She says, remembering the dismissive way they treated her, telling her to play in her room or the playroom rather than invite her to join them in the living room. "I don't know where my real mom and dad are," she says simply. Finally, she looks directly into his hazel eyes, fear tinging at the back of her own. "Are you going to make me go back?"

And the waitress come to the table, Maeve reverting back into her shy self, sinking into her body it would seem as she lets Andras do all the talking, but a giggle slips through her stick face as her smile quickly returns to the face of the child with hair pale like liquid golden sunshine. She sees his hazel eyes upon her and she meets his own hazel gaze with such a fearlessness openness. "Yes," she responds to his question, wondering why he would bring up such a thing. But her internal question is answered as her eyes grow wide with shock and the small smile that had been carved upon her face drops in utter surprise and disbelief. "Kids like me?" she asks, knowing the answer, for he would not have said such a thing if it were not true. "I want to go," she says eagerly, nearly ready to jump out of the booth. "Will you take me?" She asks, and she reaches out that tiny, child sized hand, and those amethyst eyes look to Andras, she looks so strange in that moment, her eyes holding seemingly a wisdom beyond her years, and yet just as haunted as any orphaned child would possess. "Can I stay with you?"