[Maybe the pause that flits between them doesn't bode well for his truthfulness, but in all honesty, Henry is once more wrangling with the idea of— Well, the freedom to say whatever the hell he wants. He could just be spiteful and spill the entire tale to a stranger, and hope that some sorry individual he left for dead back at HNL is rolling in their grave.
He’s just about that petty for it. But there’s value in keeping one’s cards close to the chest, too, at least for now. He decides on something in-between.]
Well. I used to be one of those children.
[He flicks his gaze to his drink, and the mostly-full martini glass spins a little in its spot, sloshing slightly. He can still manage that much, at least, even if everything else feels like a knife edge dulled—]
And then I grew up, and they saw fit to put me to work, instead.
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He’s just about that petty for it. But there’s value in keeping one’s cards close to the chest, too, at least for now. He decides on something in-between.]
Well. I used to be one of those children.
[He flicks his gaze to his drink, and the mostly-full martini glass spins a little in its spot, sloshing slightly. He can still manage that much, at least, even if everything else feels like a knife edge dulled—]
And then I grew up, and they saw fit to put me to work, instead.