The Floodlands Hold Me, Love Me, Stay With Me [m?]

A hesitant, answering smile slipped across his maw. Even through this stupor, Dag found it in him to be proud of his name. He'd been named for a great wolf, after all, and his family was one of the great ones.

"Dagfinn Ansbjørn III," he replied, chest swelling for but a moment. Normally, he would not apologize for having pride in his heritage, but here? In the presence of this woman? It seemed natural to obey, and Dag lowered his belly to the floor, even as he shuffled nearer. "You can call me Dag, though," he said hesitantly, unsure what she wanted from him. Women liked strong men, he knew - it was what all the stories said! But his every instinct was telling him to be submissive toward this female - that this behavior would get him what he wanted.

I don't know what's going on, he thought about telling her, but that was probably clear enough. "Will you tell me your name?" he asked instead, knowing instinctively that she held everything in this encounter; that all must be given and nothing demanded.