Well, this certainly isn’t the face she would recognize, is it? Henry Creel is a tall, somewhat beanpole-esque man with pale skin, bright blue eyes, and blonde hair. His voice is soft-spoken, every intonation a friendly lilt when he’s trying to play at being amicable. (Ninety-percent of the time, he is.) Surely this utterly harmless sight is enough to chase away any horrid remembrances of some wet and writhing creature from the Upside Down.
Because where Max has found refuge under the tree, she seems to have not noticed that there was someone busying himself on the other side of the wide trunk, and the sound of movement deters Henry from whatever he was doing, just long enough to peek around the side in a half-lean.
He has no idea who this is. But she looks withdrawn and harried; something that is more curiosity than concern, but more importantly—]
You can sit there if you want, but can you try not to knock those over?
[“Those” being objects that she’s not noticed, he assumes, clinking at her feet in her haste to this tree. Glass jars, currently empty, tilt a little in protest at the heel of her shoe.
If Henry’s annoyed by the intrusion, it doesn’t show on his features.]
arrival! c:
Well, this certainly isn’t the face she would recognize, is it? Henry Creel is a tall, somewhat beanpole-esque man with pale skin, bright blue eyes, and blonde hair. His voice is soft-spoken, every intonation a friendly lilt when he’s trying to play at being amicable. (Ninety-percent of the time, he is.) Surely this utterly harmless sight is enough to chase away any horrid remembrances of some wet and writhing creature from the Upside Down.
Because where Max has found refuge under the tree, she seems to have not noticed that there was someone busying himself on the other side of the wide trunk, and the sound of movement deters Henry from whatever he was doing, just long enough to peek around the side in a half-lean.
He has no idea who this is. But she looks withdrawn and harried; something that is more curiosity than concern, but more importantly—]
You can sit there if you want, but can you try not to knock those over?
[“Those” being objects that she’s not noticed, he assumes, clinking at her feet in her haste to this tree. Glass jars, currently empty, tilt a little in protest at the heel of her shoe.
If Henry’s annoyed by the intrusion, it doesn’t show on his features.]