Willow.
The man was a little too slow with his words. He often spent most of his time tangled up in them like that one tragic third grader on the playground that never quiet mastered double dutch. The soft pitiful laugh he received roughly fourteen seconds after he introduced himself to a woman was just as excruciatingly embarrassing as the wagging pig tails flicking atop all the third grade girls' heads as they laughed. Mockery. He could argue it was the worst form of the infamous taunt with his lengthy list of personal anecdotes beginning long before third grade and his double dutch tongue.