Reynard. It's not a common sort of name, uncommon enough to give him pause, but then neither is his. He lets out another awkward sort of huff of amusement ('next time'? What was that supposed to mean?) and flashes Reynard a smile.

"Lancelot," he offers, one hand dropping to scritch at the dog's fur just under her jaw. She leans into his leg at the touch, eyes closing in pleasure. "And this is Lily," he adds, because whatever Reynard's feelings on animals and names Lancelot always introduces his dog by default. He feels it'd be rude to leave her out.