The bearhug was unexpected, but not un appreaciated. Henry was all smiles, much of his regrets coming here dissappared at the voice of his best friend. Atticus was like family to him at this point, they had been trough all to much. He nodded at the Incubus words and he gave Atticus a look of understanding when he suddenly said something that put doubt back into the back of the sirens mind. More at stake? He did not like the sound of that all that much. But regardless, he was apperently needed. And he was not gonna leave Atticus to do this on his own. Instead he adapted and applied that razor sharp wit of his to analyze the current gathering. 

“Pleaseure to meet you Makarov” he took the wights hand, the Sirens voice all pleasant and calm.

Henry then looked a the people gathered. This time around, there were a feeling that they had gone with brawn over brain. He didn't mean it in any insulting way, it was just that there was less sorceress might apparent with the giant and the golem around not to mention the aforementioned Russian wight he just shook hands with. They were brawn, the very definition of brawn to be exact. The mighty giants of Albion had been things he had only heard stories about altought he had met a more northern 'cousin' to the them some years prior. But a denizens of Joutenheim were all anger and hate and took none to kindly on those smaller then them. So he had ended meeting on a sour note and he expected this Albion giant to boost just as much strenght if not more. The wight was another that gave him the sense of brawn. A undying combat expert, altough to be fair on the once-man, he was very knowledgeable and a excellent guide. The Sirens eyes found the Golem next, massive polished stone made to move and serve, yet this one appeared very much human in a comedic way. The cigarr was a nice touch Henry had to admit. He tried smoking once, his body promtly made him expel the sludge in the nastiest of ways. Golems were, as far as he knew, brawny, strong and durable. 

Then came the Pharao. The look of dismissal on that mans face was to expected, but the way he seemed to sniff the air as if Henry smelt bad was somewhat perplexing. Henry smelled human and not bad at that, maybe the old dried up thing could smell his true being in a way not even Henry could? Again, it was a bit unfair, for a old supposedly dried up body the man looked like a rapstar with extra tackyness tacked on. Henry was especially appreciative of the suit. Regardless, old beings were always so impossible to agree with Henry had discovered so he let him be for now. Oro Mai had been like that as well and Henry idly wondered what the big ol' bird was doing now. 

Nestor showed up just then, and the Siren just shook his head. Now there was a sight he had not expected. “Wardrobe malfunction Nestor?” he Asked as Atticus came to the poor Demon hosts aid with some clothes. 

Another arrival, and the Siren caught himself grinning. This one was his fault. The Rusalka, lovely as only the water temptress could be, had tried to woe him once. With the intention of drowning him of course, like any self respecting water spirit would. But as a undead, she was not related to him in ways of species or genus. No, she had not had any idea that Henry was immune to both her charms and the act of drowning. Not to mention, very fond of bathing in lakes with scantily clad women to begin with. And Henry was never, as long as he lived, let her forget that. He had offered to put her incontact with the company shortly after of course. A source of endless amusement that one.

“Well...” Henry trailed off as he saw the Dragon. Now, salamanders might be different from their gold hogging, scaled and redicusly maglomaniac driven brethren. But they were still awe inspiring to the Siren, who had spoken in great length to lesser wyrms the past year in order to get some sort of read on the current going ons in the realm of Fae and immortal. He knew he was in the presence of a magnificent being and he afforded her all the respect. Of course, his attention was stolen by the sight of a naked Druid. He knew he was a druid becouse the way he came from a fae realm while not being a fae himself. That was a very Druid thing to do Henry decided. By the looks of him, he made a deal with some variant of a pixie tribe. God Henry pitied the man, Pixies were as unreliable and full of mischief as they came. 

“..Pixies are a very unreliable way of transport Master Druid. May I suggest speaking to a different tribe next time? At least they may let you travel less... Au Naturalé” 

And then Siya appeared and Henry bit off a little chuckle at how she lit up a the sight of Atticus. He watched as she approached, suddenly all grace and.. need. Oh, Vampire she was allright, just a petite, Incubus snaring kind. Henry let the two reunite in peace, well relative peace, there was many around them. Instead his eyes met those of Veti, and he could see her search for soemthing, he could only assume it was Max. He knew her pain, he knew it far to well. He waved at her and offered her the warmest smile he could muster. It was pretty damn warm coming from a being born in a frozen river.

“Glad to see you Veti. Really glad.” His words had a unspoken meaning to them, he had been afraid he'd never see Veti again. He knew what grief did to people.