Ginger had arranged to meet with Maleficent in hopes to get her to lift the curse she'd put on Peter. This was stupid and she knew it. The witch knew exactly which buttons to push to light a fire under Ginger and she went for the throat immediately. And that is why she was here. There was nothing that told her she could trust this bitch's word for anything, but she didn't care. She had to at least try. She had to for Peter. If there was even a chance that she would keep to her word, Ginger had to try, because she would hate herself for not trying later.
She was sitting at a table at a cafe, waiting for her to arrive. She didn't know what to expect from this meeting, and she was probably not even remotely prepared for what was to come, but none of that showed on the outside. The nerves, the fear, it was all buried beneath a mask of false bravado. She could only hope that the other woman couldn't immediately see straight through it.