sacrifice what you are for what you can become
Henry doesn't respond right away to the way this kid's stated the obvious, a little dumbfounded as to how the very clear sarcasm was lost on them. "Yeah and how unfortunate is that," he mutters under his breath, though there's a significant lack of feeling in the words.
The basket is prompted towards him but he doesn't reach out to take it. Instead, Azrael introduces themself to him for a second time and his eyes flicker back up. His gaze hones in on this person's face, searching, finding familiarity there that he hadn't moments ago. Realization dawns on him, but it only lasts a second before that dejected look returns. "'Fully grown now'. Just like that, huh?" He asks very flatly, and already he feels guilty for being such an ass.
Azrael is here not just to give him the gift of pity and sympathy, but to thank him, and it would be a lie if he tried to say it didn't tug at his heartstrings a little. Henry inhales a long breath, shuts his eyes, and leans back from the doorway. Upon opening them, he gestures for Azrael to come in. "Come on... it's not pretty but at least it's out of the chill," he says, tones much less disgruntled now.
The basket, he'll take now, holding it in a gentle grasp as he looks down at it. "The barracks burned and fell apart anyway, so I don't know what there is to be thankful for," he offers on a rather dark note, giving a hard stare to the gift rather than Azrael, "You really didn't have to... bring me this."
He sets it on his cot, intending to leave it there unopened. But he's admittedly curious, eyeing it, inching over to peek at the contents. "What's in it, anyway?"
The basket is prompted towards him but he doesn't reach out to take it. Instead, Azrael introduces themself to him for a second time and his eyes flicker back up. His gaze hones in on this person's face, searching, finding familiarity there that he hadn't moments ago. Realization dawns on him, but it only lasts a second before that dejected look returns. "'Fully grown now'. Just like that, huh?" He asks very flatly, and already he feels guilty for being such an ass.
Azrael is here not just to give him the gift of pity and sympathy, but to thank him, and it would be a lie if he tried to say it didn't tug at his heartstrings a little. Henry inhales a long breath, shuts his eyes, and leans back from the doorway. Upon opening them, he gestures for Azrael to come in. "Come on... it's not pretty but at least it's out of the chill," he says, tones much less disgruntled now.
The basket, he'll take now, holding it in a gentle grasp as he looks down at it. "The barracks burned and fell apart anyway, so I don't know what there is to be thankful for," he offers on a rather dark note, giving a hard stare to the gift rather than Azrael, "You really didn't have to... bring me this."
He sets it on his cot, intending to leave it there unopened. But he's admittedly curious, eyeing it, inching over to peek at the contents. "What's in it, anyway?"
HENRY
