Maeve watches him, laughing a little to herself. But then she hears the sound of laughter behind her and a voice and she stills. "You must be his mother?" She turns to look just slightly.

"My name is Maeve. I truly mean him no harm. He's quite young and rather precocious. My own child would have likely wanted to play along at this age." Not that she was ever that age. But children are like that, really.