Sketch watched in smiling amusement as the small fae boy guzzled down Nevin's meal, a mirthful laugh escaping him as he stared at the scene. He'd noticed that the boy wasn't normal, but he never suspected that he was one of Mab's kin. Mab he thought, where did that name come from? He wasn't sure he knew any Mab, at least not one he could remember clearly. He knew stories about the powerful fae, they spawned more Grym than any other stories, that's why they were called "Faerie Tales."

As far as Sketch remembered, Mab was tied heavily into the winter courts somehow, and was one of the gods in the Merlin sagas. He wasn't terribly sure if they were connected to a real being or if they were just a story, but Sketch thought he may ask the boy one day.

"Sir Fenn, may I please apologize for my rude treatment earlier. It was impolite of me to lecture you as if you were a mere stripling, and for not realizing you're true nature sooner. My name is Sketch, and I'm known in a few small circles as the "Speaker of the Grym". I'm sorry about the mix up with the food, I'd thought you simply a cold child with perhaps some small magic over frost. Please accept my humble apologies." Sketch gave a deep bow, with the utmost sincerity, his hand over his chest as was his custom.

"I'd never have suggested such fare if I thought it would offend you sir. Now knowing your history a bit more, I can see how you were able to sneak off with one of Nevin's potions without him noticing you. In some small way to make it up to you, may I order you some fresh honey, milk, and bread to replace the offending meal? I'll ask them to switch out the cutlery as well." Sketch smiled, seemingly unfazed by the turn of events, as if he didn't mind that the blonde boy was actually a powerful, timeless being of winter.

He walked over to the bar and apologized for the inconvenience, and took out some coin to pay for the new meal. He then walked over and started to clean up the mess that was caused during the incident. He spoke to the group "The owner of the cafe is a somewhat fan of mine, he goes and listens to my stories at the inn I stay at. The hostess said that there's no harm done, and she'd be happy to give you some copper utensils Sir Fenn. She also said she'd bring over some more bread and milk for you Nevin." Sketch took the rag he'd cleaned the table with and tossed it in a bucket that was lying in the corner of the room.