When Maedhros set the fruit cup - containing all that juice - on the table near his map, Max swept it up, rolling it carefully into a tube and sticking it into the bag that held the rest of his map-making equipment. He'd spent all morning on just this small portion of the town, he wasn't going to lose it because some rude ordinary with no concept of personal space thought it was pretty.
Only...was he an ordinary? He didn't know of any ordinaries that tall, or with pointed ears.
"The wizards? You mean, the ones who use magic? Then yes, I suppose I am." His voice was clipped, as if he was uncomfortable talking openly with people so frivolously, which, of course, he was.
"I am, but they are not just maps," he said, raising an eyebrow. "There is no equal to a Cartamandua map."