[ It's something that every person living in the world of cell phones has to learn to endure one day...
Half an hour seems rather fast, but Fern has no reason to push back the time, really. She works in the evenings and generally sets aside the early morning and midday for catching up on sleep or running errands.
So, guess this is happening. ]
I'll be there.
[ And so she arrives promptly to the cafe. Henry might spot her on her bike, the one she had to abandon at the haunted house during their last ordeal, as she cuts a quick corner in search of a parking spot. As she walks up a minute or so later, she's dressed appropriately for the weather, with layers, sturdy boots, a jacket, gloves, and a hood pulled up over her ears.
She waves at Henry as she approaches, taking care with her footing on the icy sidewalk, and then glances to find the mural she was told of. ]
[Henry doesn't take into account that she could be clear across the other end of the city. The cafe is close to where he's staying, so he doesn't need to drive; he just walks, and it takes him fifteen minutes to get there.
Which means he's waiting near the entrance when she arrives, hard to miss with her familiar motorcycle as she seeks parking. He, too, is dressed appropriately for the weather and radiates his usual prim, proper, and polite vibe. His hands are hidden in the pockets of his brown bomber jacket to keep warm.
Compared to how she saw him last, it's as though he's reset himself. No more (visible) anger, hair perfectly combed and coifed, and not a single drop of blood to be seen.]
Hi.
[He offers a smile. Warm, blooming satisfaction crawls inside every vein as she approaches, thanks to whatever the hell is happening to him, and he would curse the feeling were it not so grounding.]
If you're looking for my mural, it's around the other side of the building.
[ The jacket doesn't quite fit the image Fern's had of Henry based on how he's dressed every other time they've met, but with the snowfall and the colder temperature, everyone has to make do.
He does seem to be back to normal, for whatever that means for either of them. If he's still suffering the headaches and nosebleeds, they at least seem to be less frequent.
Does that mean he's learned his lesson? The truth he shared with her in the aftermath of their run-in with the Skinner is something she's still digesting. But for whatever he might feel beneath the surface, this seems to be the way he likes to present himself in public. (And she understands that — wanting to control how others view you.)
Either way, it is good to see him looking better, and even greeting her with a smile. A weight on her chest lifts, and for a moment her brow furrows with confusion, but it doesn't appear to be directed at him. ]
Hello, Henry. It's good to see you.
[ The words come out before she can think better of them, leaving her even more confused at herself. She clears her throat. ]
... Lead the way, then. [ She draws closer, ready to follow him. ]
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no subject
Half an hour seems rather fast, but Fern has no reason to push back the time, really. She works in the evenings and generally sets aside the early morning and midday for catching up on sleep or running errands.
So, guess this is happening. ]
I'll be there.
[ And so she arrives promptly to the cafe. Henry might spot her on her bike, the one she had to abandon at the haunted house during their last ordeal, as she cuts a quick corner in search of a parking spot. As she walks up a minute or so later, she's dressed appropriately for the weather, with layers, sturdy boots, a jacket, gloves, and a hood pulled up over her ears.
She waves at Henry as she approaches, taking care with her footing on the icy sidewalk, and then glances to find the mural she was told of. ]
no subject
Which means he's waiting near the entrance when she arrives, hard to miss with her familiar motorcycle as she seeks parking. He, too, is dressed appropriately for the weather and radiates his usual prim, proper, and polite vibe. His hands are hidden in the pockets of his brown bomber jacket to keep warm.
Compared to how she saw him last, it's as though he's reset himself. No more (visible) anger, hair perfectly combed and coifed, and not a single drop of blood to be seen.]
Hi.
[He offers a smile. Warm, blooming satisfaction crawls inside every vein as she approaches, thanks to whatever the hell is happening to him, and he would curse the feeling were it not so grounding.]
If you're looking for my mural, it's around the other side of the building.
no subject
He does seem to be back to normal, for whatever that means for either of them. If he's still suffering the headaches and nosebleeds, they at least seem to be less frequent.
Does that mean he's learned his lesson? The truth he shared with her in the aftermath of their run-in with the Skinner is something she's still digesting. But for whatever he might feel beneath the surface, this seems to be the way he likes to present himself in public. (And she understands that — wanting to control how others view you.)
Either way, it is good to see him looking better, and even greeting her with a smile. A weight on her chest lifts, and for a moment her brow furrows with confusion, but it doesn't appear to be directed at him. ]
Hello, Henry. It's good to see you.
[ The words come out before she can think better of them, leaving her even more confused at herself. She clears her throat. ]
... Lead the way, then. [ She draws closer, ready to follow him. ]