Malia doesn't notice Mab's careful avoidance of cold iron because she's too busy trying to readjust her senses. It's not accosting by any means, but the smell of fresh food makes her stomach growl loudly, and Malia all but beelines towards the display food. She's so focused on it that she doesn't initially respond to Mab's cue to order and it takes her a couple of seconds to look up, eyes wide.

"Huh? Oh, uh... um."

She's never drank anything before, but she remembers smelling something good in a customer's hand the other day.

"That one with chocolate, and I think whip cream? And it had coffee. With milk. Oh, and peppermint. And can I get one of these?" She points at a large slice of tiramisu. The barista stares at her for a second and then seems to collect himself, punching the order into his register.