Quote:
Originally Posted by
Pokah Face 
It took a few minutes before Roderigo tore his eyes away from the happenings of Pip, Miss Havisham, and Estella and noticed that there was another student in the compartment with him. Just after his sudden realization, the young man in front of him randomly blurted out the author of the book Roderigo was reading. Chuckling softly, he lowered the book and stretched a smile across his face.
"Do you like Dickens too?" he asked. "He's one of my favorite authors." he placed a small piece of paper that Roderigo had made into a bookmark into the book to save his place, and placed the book at his side. Leaning forward ever so slightly, his dark emerald eyes scanned the man in front of him. The boy had a lighter complexion than Roderigo's, though that wasn't saying much because he himself was barely tan. But he seemed nice. Roderigo analyzed people that way, he was too sure why, but he seldom found a person he didn't get along with. Deciding to take initiative, he leaned forward and reached out to Braeden.
"My name is Roderigo," he said through a hybrid Spanish and British accent. "Roderigo De Lacerda."
Braeden watched with slightly curious brown eyes as the boy before him used a small piece of paper as a bookmark; he seemed so... neat. It made Braeden feel messy. Well, he
was a rather messy little person by nature.
"Oh! Well, I dunno about Dickens but his stuff is pretty good," said Braeden. Leave it up to him to take the question literally and believe that Roderigo wanted to know if he knew Dickens personally. "Shame he was a muggle, he could have at least turned into a ghost; though to be honest I've only ever really finished one of his books completely. But it was enough to turn me into a fanatic," Braeden shared with a lopsided grin.
As the boy then introduced himself as Roderigo with a very interesting accent, Braeden returned the handshake fervently for a moment. "Braeden Stonem," he introduced himself with another one of those happy-go-lucky dorky smiles of his that made him look at least three years younger. "Cool name," he commented casually as he leaned back into his seat, as if they were talking about... quills or something like that; as if the boy had just chosen to be given his name because it sounded 'cool'. "De Lacerda..." he muttered thoughtfully (murdering the last name with his heavy British accent), "Where's that from?"