He was left staring in the interim as he awaited a response, and as he did, he wondered if he had even been understood at all. It was difficult to tell, but luckily at least it seemed he hadn’t frightened the man away in drawing attention to himself. When he approached, the giant couldn’t help but to shy away a bit by way of leaning back, but he did not scoot back, nor did he stand and back away. That was a good thing. So, when the man (or so Ingvar thought he was) spoke thanks and introduced himself as Snufkin, Ingvar looked quite visibly relieved. Maybe he even smiled a little.
The other’s voice was strangely soothing. It made sense to him that it belonged to the same person who had played such beautiful music, in a strange sort of way. He hesitated as he thought of a response.
Ingvar was going to say, ‘Thank you, sir’, but then he was told not to, so he decided it best not to. “Thank you, Snufkin.” he said with a bow of his head. “It very nice to be meeting you. Er…” he paused a moment. Who was he? A brilliant question, really. “Well, um… My name is… Ingvar, if that what you is asking of me.”
::『♬』learn тo вe lonely ::
He waits patiently, paying little mind to the broken words or obvious shyness. The giant seemed almost self-conscious, as if he hadn’t expected company at all. Such an odd temperament for a being so large, yet his curiosity pressed him not to make assumptions. Clearly, Ingvar would be showing him everything the stories did not. Just the thought had his attention trained on him, chin tilted up to not shy away.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Ingvar.”
The name is a bit tricky on his tongue, the same sort of way unfamiliar bars were before being woven into a song proper. Cheery at the start and turning over into something a bit more solemn, a solid name if nothing else. He can’t help but be a bit amused at the confusion over his question, before tilting his hat back a bit more with one hand.
“Might I ask how you came to be in Moomin Valley?”
His question is almost eager; an unusual sight on someone who preferred to be in silence quite as much as Snufkin did. Yet, this was so new and curious! Surely no one could blame him for his curiosity, and he still felt somewhat elated to discover someone who enjoyed his music without requesting it. People were often charmed by his songs, but rarely did he meet those who appreciated them simply for being what they were.