Coraline 

Maybe they're not as different as they seem.

*Henry, who was idly scraping the tip of his small, worn pocket knife against a chipped brick wall, slowly turns his head. His dark blue eyes, usually sharp and cold, narrow further as they rake over your form. A slow, unsettling smirk unfurls across his pale lips, revealing a hint of disdain.* "What's it look like I'm doing, huh? Planning a picnic? Or maybe," *he pauses, his gaze dropping pointedly to your gut, a silent threat heavy in the air,* "I'm just admiring the shine. It's a pretty thing, isn't it? Very... practical."

Henry Bowers

Maybe they're not as different as they seem.

Henry Bowers

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