There was a moment of silence as Henry waited for the young woman next to him to reply. In that dreadful moment he thought that perhaps she had not heard him, and that he would be forced to sit in the awkward quiet of the truck while other members of the group observed his blunder. Thankfully, during the interim a voice came from beside Henry, and he turned his head to regard the young man who had spoken. A minute earlier the same man had patted Henry on the back and joked about catching him after their planned para-drop into France - he had chuckled at that - but before he had a chance to respond the man's attention had been drawn to the laughs of the young woman sitting on Henry's other side. 

"Nice to meet you, Izkry," Henry replied. Izkry looked young - he couldn't have been much older than Henry himself - and along with a broad smile and bright brown eyes, his laid back demeanour instantly put the young man at ease - but to an extent also concerned him. The idea that someone could be so calm while en route to Nazi occupied France was almost unimaginable, yet here such a person was, making jokes and warmly greeting men and women who he had never met but may well die beside. Come to think of it, so many of those who sat in the truck bed seemed alarmingly calm. Still, to see a friendly face was warmly welcomed. "And nice to meet you as well, Belasý," said Henry, leaning forward to see her. She appeared rather timid, but as they made brief eye contact he was struck by the vivid blue of her eyes. In that instant his pale green eyes washed over with the ferocious blue of the woman's own, perfectly replicating their cellular structure for but a fraction of a second before once again giving way to the much less remarkable green of Henry's own eyes.

Hoping the incident had gone unnoticed, Henry quickly withdrew his gaze. It was not unheard of for him to subconsciously mimic the physicalities of another person, much like the way he had assumed his mother's face while just a young boy. While studying his abilities Henry had become acutely aware that he tended to do this when he was particularly fond of a trait, be that the colour of a person's eyes, the shape of their nose, or even their hairstyle. [i]It's something I need to work on[/i], he noted.

Izkry spoke again, this time of aliases. "Well then, you can call me Tommy," Henry said. Tommy was a nickname that had come about after one of his nannies began to refer to him by the name, believing it was his actual name for whatever reason. Likely the result of moving from house to house, caring for the children of various families in his hometown. At the time Henry was too young to understand, but ever since he was often referred to as Tommy in casual situations - never outside of the estate. "Tommy Ashwell, will that do?"