'Robb,' Abby corrected, letting go of long and thin fingers, perhaps the only part about him which could be considered lanky. 'So you're from Scotland, I take it?'
The unnecessary question was a complete excuse to hear him continue talking for nothing could mistake his rhotic accent with its elongated vowels and contrasting varieties. An elaborate dialect which required precise pronunciation following stickling rules. The combination should have made his speech pattern easy to follow but instead created a zip-zagging brogue impossible to anticipate but oh so buttery on the ears. Most girls would see a man like this, with his deep voice and perfect physique and willingly allow their to brains leak out their nostrils.
Luckily, Abby had a very big brain of which only a tiny portion succumbed to the melting phenomenon.