[center][color=cyan][h3]Henry Peterson III[/h3][/color]

[img]https://66.media.tumblr.com/01acc0e07e1f98ea685dc08b168ccebc/tumblr_nmkjlxJjcW1qhdexto1_500.gif[/img]

Interacting with: Feora [@mnkee][/center]

He smiled as he watched her response to his sudden intrusion of her space. He was glad she'd elected to take up his offer of the pastry. At least she seemed calm in all this. That would be easy to work with. She stood at eye level, something Henry wasn't necessarily used to and for some reason, he thought it only made him respect her more. Not only did she figuratively stand on equal ground with him, but she also did so literally as well, ignoring the heels. In fact, she probably stood, figuratively, higher than he did. At least she wasn't branded a bastard. 

For whatever reason, he found himself staring at her lips. They seemed almost perfectly sized and held in a position that was neither a frown nor a smile, necessarily. His brows furrowed as he felt the strange urge to see them stretch up in a smile, a real smile not the sort of smile most made in these moments. The sort of smile that warmed your heart and made you feel at ease because you knew the person smiling felt the same with you. 

This urge only intensified as she greeted him as if a record. He knew then that she was falling back on training, on cookie-cutter phrases she'd learned to curb the fear, the discomfort... He simply stood for a moment, staring at her face, her lips, and her eyes which looked almost lifeless if it weren't for the hint of a spark held there. He probably looked rather silly, standing there silent after being greeted but for some reason his mind was racing, trying to think of someway to break the ice between them. 

[color=cyan]"I'd be better if I didn't have to pretend to be something I''m not."[/color] He told her, opting for honesty. [color=cyan]"How are the pastries?"[/color] He asked, smiling softly, as genuinely as he could manage. [color=cyan]"They make me miss my mother's cheese-cakes. You know, she made one for me every birthday even though she knew we couldn't really afford it."[/color] He explained to her, standing off to the side of her as to let people pass should they want to. His eyes darted over to Cara before returning to Feora. 

Cara knew about his mother and was probably the only one in the room who understood his feelings about it all. Still, he wanted a friend in Feora and he wanted her to know exactly where he stood in all of this. 

He leaned over to her, to whisper something in her ear, [color=cyan]"Never feel obligated to smile for my sake. I promise, I'm not worth it."[/color] He pulled back and gave Feora a wink and a smile. [color=cyan]"What about you, [i]Princess[/i] Feora? What's your favorite food? I might feel the urge to make it for you one day, not that I'm any good."[/color] He asked her, this time much louder as if trying to cover up the fact he'd just whispered into her ear.