[ It is most certainly called a "meet cute", which she would have gladly told him if he asked. A girl doesn't read an inordinate amount of romance novels without picking up a few terms, after all, even though she's given up all hope of ever becoming an ingenue.

Almost.

Her brain was busy going to war with itself: the logical side was reminding Cyd that the last time she'd found herself living life like it was a bodice-ripper, it was a disaster. Gently pointing out that she knew nothing about this gentleman and so she really shouldn't get her hopes up, and besides, his face kind of had a felt-like quality to it if you stared long enough.

Which she was. Staring, that is, between more incoherent babbling: ] Y- yeah! You caught me. I'm not sure what I am, exactly, definitely not a hero but– I don't even know what I can do yet, I've got some theories, but— I'm saying "but" a lot, huh? Sorry! I'm not really good with... explanations. Or introductions.

[ Now, the emotional side of her brain said, would be a good time to run away and cry and bury her social awkward sorrows in ice cream. But for some odd reason, she found herself doing something strange: taking a deep breath, smiling, and... successfully pretending to be confident??? ] You know what? Let me try that again. I'm Cyd. Cyd Sherman.

[ She held out a hand. ] Nice to meet you, um...