“Bonjour, Rapunzel. The pleasure is mine. My name is Tintin,” he said with a smile. He decided not to ponder the fact that Rapunzel was most certainly a fairytale character. Perhaps her parents just decided it was a suitable name.
She tilted her head to the side. “Tin…tin? Like… a tin can?” She had never heard a name like that before. But then again, she hadn’t heard very many names… living in a tower for 18 years and all. “Do you work in a tin factory?!”
Even though she was only one year younger than himself, the blast of child-like energy really surprised him. Most people found his name quite odd, and related it to tin cans quite easily.
“Um… haha… no, my name really is just Tintin. I’m a reporter, not a factory worker.”
“A reporter?!….. what’s that?” Rapunzel racked her brains to try and think what that could mean. Mother Gothel had left a lot untaught, so every day she learnt something new.