Oh, hey, Lucy recognizes that girl, it's Doom Socks. 

...

She may have forgotten to ask her actual name. Oops?

Well, no time like the present to fix old mistakes. 

She carries her tray over, Wilbur trailing in her wake. 

"This is super embarrassing but when I was mistaking you for a maleficer I forgot to actually ask your name," she says, setting her tray down and sitting across from her.

(Bobbie skedaddles as soon as it's clear Lucy's planning to sit.)

"It's El. Or, well, that's what I'm called anyway."

"Cool, I was just calling you Doom Socks in my head, El is much more suitable for a human being."

"...that's even worse than my real name, I didn't think it possible."

"I can think of loads of things worse than Doom Socks!" she says brightly. "I probably shouldn't, but it's possible."

"It's 'Galadriel'. My mother knows what she did."

"Oh no, I'm so sorry."

"I just hope there aren't too many people going around sounding like an alphabet book. Listening at corners has told me we've got both a 'zee' and a 'zed', if there's six other Ells what am I to do?"

"Call yourself Q? --No then people would think you were the asshole alien from Star Trek, you don't need that with your weird-ass vibes. Uh, W would be a bit of a mouthful, X is too generic, if we go into other letters in your name G just sounds like Gee Whiz...do you have a middle name?"

"If I did don't you think I'd use that?"

"Hi Lucy and Wilbur! Hi El!" calls Lissa, scurrying over when she sees several people she considers friends sitting together. Apparently Bobbi isn't joining them, though she supposes that makes sense. She slides into a seat next to El, smiling as she sets down her tray.

"I dunno, El's fine," she shrugs. "What about a surname, some people have surnames they can go by. I guess this doesn't work if your surname is Wintersonchester or something like that. --Hi Lissa."

"Am I interrupting something?" she asks, head tilted as she pokes at her cornflakes. "I think El's a fine name too!"

"It's a nickname," El explains, "and sounds like a letter. Last name is Higgins, I think it'd be more confusion than it's worth."

Lucy starts to say something, then stops. Her eyes flick to the crystal hanging from El's neck. 

"Huh, I think my mum actually mentioned you once, she went to visit a commune in Wales with a well-known healer when we were seven and when she came back mentioned a surly South Asian-looking daughter about our age." 

"That's me. Surly South-Asian looking daughter about your age."

"Well, she didn't know about the doom socks." 

"Did she think I was maleficing when I was seven, that would be a trick."

"No, she thought you were cranky and probably either kind of a brat or really going through something and she didn't have the evidence to judge which." 

"Mm. I don't remember her at all."

Shrug. "Loads of people come to see your mum, I doubt being an albino is enough to make one of 'em really stand out. But if you're ever in a pinch and need healing in a hurry we won't stiff you afterwards; Mum's healing goo trebled in potency after she came back from that trip."

"Good to know."

"--I'm not gonna try to suck up to you about your mum or anything, if you were worried, she kind of famously'll see anyone and you seem, uh, difficult to suck up to. Not that I don't like you but you're--prickly? Which is fine. But would probably not be good for my lips' long-term health if I tried any kind of butt-kissing." 

"You lost your metaphor somewhere in there and it'll only get worse if you keep trying."

"You know what, that's fair."