[On the bright side, his jacket now has touched her bare skin so that’s a blessing in of itself, she thinks. It takes some doing to get her hair out from inside of the jacket – boy her hair is long – and she’s still pulling out long, oddly heart-shaped curls out when he asks his question. She tilts her head at him,]

Of course it’s my name, dearest. Why would I go by any other?

[Both because it’s her name, and also, why would she want to be anyone besides herself. Preposterous.]

And what should I call you? It’s only polite, since I gave you mine.