The twelfth century may be good for many things- bloody battles, leprosy, plate metal armour- but candy? That's something that needs work, and toddlers are certainly not warned about taking it from strangers. Darim doesn't remember much of his first time in Asgard, brief though it was, but he recognises a friendly, open face well enough and so he reaches for the proffered sweet, a big smile on his face but with a look of excited intrigue in his bright blue eyes.

"What that?"

It's about this time that Maria catches up with him and almost darts in to grab him before she recognises his new friend.

"What do you say, Darim?" she prompts him, coming to stand beside him and shooting a long suffering smile at Riley. "Yes p-"

"Yes please!" he finishes enthusiastically, the 'l' in please sounding more like a 'w' thanks to the stubbornly lingering remains of a lisp.