Mr. Friendly did have a nice ring to it, but he couldn’t let her think he was not polite enough to give a real name.
“No, as much as I admire your pet name, my actual name is Fandral, the dashing, of Asgard. It is a lovely pleasure to meet you Summer.” He offered her a smile that lasted longer than the one she offered him moments before.
“Oooh, ‘the dashing’, that sounds exciting. What makes you so dashing, Fandral? Should I be worried?” Summer laughed, finding an empty seat nearby and claiming it. She leaned forward, clasping her hands under her chin.
“What makes me so dashing?” he repeated out loud, while his brain pondered on that very core of his being. Then after only a moment, he had the answer, “I was born with such skills, or so I have been told by many a maiden. And when one has such a gift, they must use it carefully, otherwise it may be translated quite differently to others.”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing at how seriously he took it, and subsided into a mug. “Such a hard burden for you to bear,” she said, and then lost it completely, putting her head down on the table and laughing. Between giggles, she choked out, “I’m not sure I can take your word for it. I might need proof.”