"That made no sense at all,"
Slate muttered to himself, at the comment the woman made to his sarcastic jest.
"Have you got a name?"
The lady asked, then she smiled to herself. "Of course you do. However, the question I really ought to be asking is this: are you willing to share knowledge of your name with me?"
"Q'nal, Slate Q'nal," he replied nonchalantly.
"Now may I ask the same question? What is your name?" He asked, yet his mind was thinking utterly different things, much more...lewd.
((Yeah, Slate has a dirty mind
...ok, dirty surface thoughts, in reality he's not that bad inside.))