"So, who do I owe this meal to, then?" inquired Julian, wiping his mouth on his sleeve after easily downing the bread, cheese, and milk that the woman had brought him. All the while, she had watched him intently with her chin propped upon her hands, her emerald eyes observing him steadily.
She straightened, "That's just a fancy way of asking me my name, isn't it?" Crossing her arms, she asked, "And why would I tell you my name when I don't know who you are? Especially when I just found you napping in my brother's barn."
Julian grinned. He liked this girl. "Well, you did offer me breakfast, didn't you?" He took another gulp of milk, sweet and creamy. "Are you always so sarcastic?"
"Well, maybe in this situation," she replied cockily, giving a sweet smile in return.
There was silence. He picked at the crumbs on his little plate. "Julian," he looked up, holding out his hand.
"Julian?" she seemed somewhat struck.
He retracted his hand, his brow forming into a brow. "What?"
She looked deep in thought, blinking a few times as if trying to sort through herself. "Seems somewhat...familiar for some odd reason. I don't remember where from."
Julian averted his gaze, thoughtful as a pause extended between them. A chicken's feathered rustled as it jumped onto a bale of hay. "Rosaline," she offered her own hand.
Julian took it, "A pleasure."