The look the stranger gives him is almost piercing in its heat, how it tracks along his face when Henry has the mind to even notice that he's doing it at all. What's with him and these long-haired men in flowing robes lately, anyway? He's worried he's starting to develop a type.
Before he can stop himself, he finds himself drawn to him. A certain enticing perfume seems to waft him over like some kind of cartoon character to a pretty little thing.
Even when close enough for decent conversation, he finds the words are stuck in his throat. Damn him, he thinks. Why did this have to happen now, where he might as well be bare with how thin and fitted the clothes are, already missing the way his suit seems to protect him from such simple vulnerabilities.
Finally, he manages to say: "We... don't know each other, but..."
Well, there was an attempt, anyway. He finds himself getting distracted again by that same perfume, the headiness clouding his mind and the sharp reds of his clothes searing his retinas. It's amazing.
no subject
Before he can stop himself, he finds himself drawn to him. A certain enticing perfume seems to waft him over like some kind of cartoon character to a pretty little thing.
Even when close enough for decent conversation, he finds the words are stuck in his throat. Damn him, he thinks. Why did this have to happen now, where he might as well be bare with how thin and fitted the clothes are, already missing the way his suit seems to protect him from such simple vulnerabilities.
Finally, he manages to say: "We... don't know each other, but..."
Well, there was an attempt, anyway. He finds himself getting distracted again by that same perfume, the headiness clouding his mind and the sharp reds of his clothes searing his retinas. It's amazing.