It's an extremely cold December afternoon, and the girl with an eyepatch is very grateful for the warmth of Starbucks. What she's not very grateful for is the huge queue. Why is there a huge queue?
"Good question! I am certain I don't remember signing any agreement. Not that I'd expect anything better if I had. I sure hope my hometown is prospering because of the little trade."
"Yup. Granted, I actually don't think the place got the privilege of raising a fairy child of their own."
"Fairy? Of course it's fairies, couldn't be anything else," she sighs. "—you're also awfully trusting of a one-eyed stranger."
"I'm kinda curious what your deal is and it's not like I have many mostly-human folks I can talk about it with."
"Oh, you caught the reference. Well, for certain definitions of 'boys', the answer is yes. But how about you? Do you have a story?"
"Whatever." They have reached the park and Peter starts circling around. "Are you planning on following me? I wouldn't recommend it."
"It used to be 'when the last rays of sunlight touch the leaves of the mighty oak' but I talked them up to midnight like fucking Cinderella. It did wonders for my social life."
She grins but doesn't wink because honestly with the eyepatch that's the same as blinking.
Half an hour later she's there, waiting.
And forty four minutes later here is a sudden not-so-lost-boy! ...In a very nice tuxedo and holding a large bouquet. "Hi, the suit wasn't my idea."