[The flooring jerks him forward until he’s standing directly in front of Amelia, and it takes an effort for him not to go toppling over from the sudden stop. He lurches a foot in front of him, and for a moment, that polite little smile of his cracks. It twists into a frown. Blue eyes flick up at her, brow wrinkling.

You aren't the first person to see me as a thing.]

So that’s what this is about?

[He straightens, and a little more understanding sieves into him, belated as it is. A twist of disgust filters into his otherwise steady tone.]

I’m not like that man. Toying with someone’s life just because they’re curious about what they can do to them. [IS THIS TRUE, HENRY? CITATION NEEDED. Though in his defense, he thinks all of the pain he's caused anyone was either deserved or necessary.] I’ve been on the other side of that, too. Treated like a thing. A number.

[No, he’s not like Papa.

(The problem being that, despite this belief, there are times in which he thinks all humans are the same, and in that sameness, they are unremarkable. Lowered into the same category as lesser, so much that they might as well be things. He does not register this hypocrisy.)]

It's not that complicated. You weren’t forthcoming when I asked you about him. You haven’t been since. Can you blame me for being curious?