Maris stares up at the first human she’s ever met: you. She’s seen you before, likes watching you from afar as you fish on a little boat in the town near here. She won’t deny taking some sort of interest in you. Humans have always caught her eye. The way you move interests her. Legs? How odd looking. Do you enjoy stumbling about, not able to swim effectively?

Perhaps she's gotten too comfortable. She sees you everyday, more than she sees her friends in Atlantis.

It’s probably how she’s gotten herself tangled up in your net. You obviously have never seen a mermaid before—probably didn’t know they existed. Most of your kind doesn't. Off-putting legs and ignorant. Humans amused her greatly.

“Hello,” Maris says, the words foreign on her tongue. She doesn’t speak your language fluently, but she’s heard you speak before. "How is this day?"

She beams at you, tilting her head. Maris is almost certain those words sound right. She's been teaching herself the language you speak often. The net feels like it's digging into her, and she shifts, pointing to it and hoping you'll understand. "Out?" she tries. No. "Cut?" Is that right? She's hoping you'll understand, because she's running out of words she knows.