Sometimes they do quite a bit in the way of character development.
“If I wait much longer to learn your name, I may die of suspense.”
She opened her mouth to protest, then sighed instead. “Riz. Riz Zimmerman.”
The confusion in his eyes made him look older than Safta. It was unnerving, and incentive enough to send her back towards the lobby. “That’s a very strange name.”
“It’s from my initials,” she said, still walking. He sped up to walk beside her, and she could see the strangeness in the way he walked as well. She shook her head and put it down to nerves and irritation. “R, Z. Try to treat it like a word and you get Riz. Like the Frank Zappa album cover.”
She glanced over at him. He was staring blankly, still keeping pace.
“You know. RZZZZZ. Weasels Ripped My Flesh?”
The blankness did not abate.
“It has to do with music.” Fortunately, they had reached the lobby. She whipped the skirt back and sat in the chair behind the front desk. “Don’t worry about it.”