[The real Amelia will find that there is no Henry Creel to be found — at least indoors.
But turn her attention to the front garden, and there he is, crouching over a plot of colorful blossoms packed in the soil. Today, the weather is fair, not too warm, so standing outdoors has little to no effect on him.
He’s brushing a finger over one of the flowers, and doesn’t bother to retract his hand when and if she approaches. But he does look a little— confused, vaguely, when he sees her.]
Didn’t you already leave in a rush?
[It seems between their last talk and now, Henry has managed to glue together his polite demeanor, even if this whole situation has it hanging on by its hinges. Still, a marked improvement. He’s had some time to think.
He’s also more put-together, wearing a fresh set of clothes that are not a white orderly’s uniform. Light brown trousers, a cream colored button-up. His hair isn’t a mess, but it isn’t as perfect as he’d like for it to be, given he had nothing to work with.]
no subject
But turn her attention to the front garden, and there he is, crouching over a plot of colorful blossoms packed in the soil. Today, the weather is fair, not too warm, so standing outdoors has little to no effect on him.
He’s brushing a finger over one of the flowers, and doesn’t bother to retract his hand when and if she approaches. But he does look a little— confused, vaguely, when he sees her.]
Didn’t you already leave in a rush?
[It seems between their last talk and now, Henry has managed to glue together his polite demeanor, even if this whole situation has it hanging on by its hinges. Still, a marked improvement. He’s had some time to think.
He’s also more put-together, wearing a fresh set of clothes that are not a white orderly’s uniform. Light brown trousers, a cream colored button-up. His hair isn’t a mess, but it isn’t as perfect as he’d like for it to be, given he had nothing to work with.]