Stavanger Bay i have an instinct that can never be reversed

Slowly, after some stretch of time, Arturo notices as the girl begins to crawl on her belly towards him, no doubt still unsure, still cautious. Though it bothered the patriarch, Arturo also extended an understanding. Her caution was not warranted — he would not dream of hurting her — but caution was not necessarily a bad thing. It was her survival instincts kicking in to play and in the face of strangers a good thing to exercise, especially for children. The gangster remains still as she approaches and even after she decided she'd come close enough. There was still plenty of distance between them but her willingness deceased the distance that she was comfortably with was taken to be a good sign. She attempted to repeat his name, and then squinted at him.

“Ar-tur-oh,” The patient gangster repeated to her, sounding out the syllables slow so that she might hear how he pronounced each of them. “Ar-tur-oh,” He said with a bit more flow, still placing an emphasis upon the syllables for her benefit. “Arturo.” He put them all together for her as he had the first time, studying her for a moment before his lips parted once more to speak, “Is 'Turo easier for you? You may call me Turo if you wish.” Nicknames were something he was fine with children using as some names tended to be complicated for them to pronounce (such as his own) and thus he did not hold children to the same articulation standards that he held his fellow adults.