Lion Head Mesa each one a line or two

Charles squinted his eyes and paused mid-berry-chomping to try and figure out what this.. wolf? creature? was saying. As if the difficult words weren't bad enough he also spoke with a thick accent. Charles didn't like being called Charlie, because it reminded him of Leta. She was the only one who called him that. Don't call me that, he said, surprisingly snappy. He seemed shocked even at his own snappiness, and though he looked apologetic right away after that, he didn't say the words. Instead he repeated, calmly this time and a little deflated, My name is Charles.

He hadn't caught all of the other's words, but he had caught the last bit — importance. Charles somewhat puffed out his chest and lifted his head and said, Well, yes. And what... who are you? Important also? He didn't realise that he'd already been introduced. At this point Charles was pretty self-conscious that he might come across as daft, considering he was missing so much of the words.