Caelan should have known that Dusty would turn things back on him. He was awfully good at asking questions while avoiding any of the hard-hitting questions that were asked of him.<br/><br/>"I know what it means and that wasn't what I asked and you know that." He answered and took another slow swig from his beer. "I wanted to know what you meant by it." Caelan knew he might never get a serious answer from Dusty, but at least the topic would be on his mind. "I think it means that you never expected to find a fuck buddy in the guy that you rescued from the side of the road." He licked his lips, the beer bottle hanging between his fingers. "Unless I'm reading it wrong."<br/><br/><i>Etranje</i>. The term was more specific than<i>lagniappe</i>, at least when it came to Caelan. Dusty wasn't wrong. He had kept his name to himself and maybe it was now for a stupid reason. At first, Caelan had favored the security that came from being a stranger. Now, it was something different. Maybe there was something about that aspect that thrilled him. He knew something Dusty didn't.<br/><br/>Part of him wanted to hear Dusty speak his name. He wanted to hear the syllables roll off his tongue. He wanted it to be whispered, murmured, moaned, shouted, screamed. Anything.<br/><br/>"Caelan." He lifted his gaze to Dusty, daring to witness his response. He offered his hand, outstretched to shake the man's in a formal greeting. "Caelan McHugh."