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He huffs, walking faster to catch up to you. "I do have a file name, you know!"
Oh, he probably does, doesn't he. "Yeah? What is it, then?"
"The Dark Lord." He says it with a self-satisfied little tone, which is about as endearing as it is eyeroll-worthy.
"Yeah, I'm not calling you that."
"Huh?!" He looks offended. "And why not?"
"Too long, too tacky, can't take you seriously with a saturday morning villain name." You laser-blast some tree branches out of the way, to actually see where you're going.
"Well, I've been calling you The Chosen One without issue!"
It actually takes you a moment to make sense of the phrase. Right. You'd forgotten that was your name, actually. "That sounds like a you problem to me."
"Well, what are you going to call me then?"
You squint at the distance, still kind of stunned by just how big the space is here, wherever you've found yourself. Really, everything strikes you as inmense compared to the claustrophobia of the desktop. "Just 'you there' has been working pretty well so far."
"No it hasn't, try again."
You turn to look at him, vaguely amused at his insistence now. The entire world is open to the two of you, overwhelming in its space of possibility, and this is what concerns him most? Okay, then. "Dark."
A beat.
"...What, just 'dark'?!"
"Yeah, just 'dark'."
"That's- that's not a name, that's just a word!" he kicks some sand in your direction. "Chosen. I'm gonna start calling you chosen, just the word chosen, how do you like that!"
"Oh, no, a short and practical way to refer to me, the horror." You belatedly realize you're openly smiling now, the expression feeling strange with the lack of practice, but not unwelcome. "Whatever will I do."
He makes a strangled, annoyed little noise. "Gonna start calling you... The... Chosenedifiedescious... ed. One." He strings that word together syllable by syllable.
You stare at him. "Okay."
He stares back.
You grin. "Go on then. What are you calling me again?"
He opens his mouth, and for a moment you actually think he's going to stick with the bit.
"...Yeah I forgot already." He admits, resigned.
You snort. "Some dark lord you are." He shoves you, and you shove him back, and suddenly you're both giggling like idiots.
"I'm still gonna keep calling you The Chosen One, though." He stretches. "And you really should stick to The Dark Lord for me, anything else sounds stupid."
There's an implication there, which had been present since the start of this whole argument but which you hadn't really stopped to consider before (really, you haven't stopped to consider anything for more than half a minute since you got yourself out of that godforsaken chain): he's talking like it's a given he's going to stay with you, wherever you're going, for long enough that you do actually need something to call each other by.
You find yourself not minding that at all, actually.
"Hey, The Dark Lord-"
"You know, what, I- I think I changed my mind-"
"The Dark Lord, come look at this. What do you think of this, The Dark L-"
"This is silly, just- look, you can call me whatever you want, just-"
"Hey The Dark Lord, don't you agree this looks cool, The Dark Lord-"
"OKAY, OKAY, I'M SORRY I SAID IT WAS STUPID YOU CAN JUST CALL ME 'DARK' PLEASE STOP THAT!"