Rucker is used to being approached and inspected. He is also used to others speaking to him. (Although he doesn't call it speaking. To him, it is some mouth language that he will never quite conquer.)
He is not, however, used to the rate at which her lips move. His eyes widen slightly and a confused look passes over his face. He had been so busy admiring the gold on her hoof, an identical shimmering color to the strands in his inky hair, that her first words are lost to him. Frustration bubbles up in his mind. It is quickly conquered by his good nature and with a slow sprawling smile he offers up one of the few words he can himself say. Though he never hears the words himself, he has practiced mimicking the shape of his mother's lips when she talks to him. She is often talking, and Rucker finds it comforting although he doesn't know what is going on.
“Rucker. Who you?”
The words are a little off, harsher than perhaps his tones would be if he knew. For surely this girl wanted his name? He couldn't imagine what other use she might have for him, although he hoped it would be an adventure. With a young boy's impetuousness he dips his nose towards her foot, lipping the rim of gold and then giving the girl a quizzical look. In his own way, and without realizing it, he is asking the exact same question she had.
This time he watches her mouth carefully, blue eyes filled with concentration. His ears never move, not responding to even the slightest bird song.