“You write stories?! About real things?” Rapunzel’s eyes widened. “That must be exciting! I paint pictures of… sort of real things.”
It excited her to meet somebody behind the stories she loved to read. “Have you written any fairytales?”
Tintin nodded, still wearing his grin. Rapunzel’s excitement was becoming infectious.
“Really? Do you paint surrealism?” However, the girl’s question confused him slightly. “No… I can’t say that I have.”
“Well, I paint things that I imagine in my head, so they’re not exactly real but they’re real in my head,” she explained. “So you just write about things that happen? Like… like a scribe!” Rapunzel knew what a scribe was - there were hundreds of them around the kingdom and in the palace.
He smiled at Rapunzel. This girl’s logic was just so… innocent and child-like. What odd parents she must’ve had. “I understand.”
“Er… no, not quite. I don’t copy any documents down, and I get to interview people who went through whatever situation I report.” It was becoming difficult quite suddenly to describe his own job.
“So… you ask people about the adventures they’ve had, and you write it down?” She thought she’d got it now. “And then you tell everyone else about that person’s adventure! Oh! Would you write about my adventures?”