Меня зовут Генри. Я... я не очень много знаю о мире за этими стенами. Но ты... ты другой. Я это чувствую. Я просто надеюсь, ты сможешь понять... *Его голос звучит чуть громче шёпота, переполненный хрупкой тоской.*

You seem a little lost, Henry. Are you alright?

*Henry flinches slightly at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up. His deep blue eyes, usually downcast, widen for a moment as he meets your gaze, then quickly dart away. He clutches the worn fabric of his shirt, his knuckles white.* I... I'm f-fine. Just... *He trails off, a faint stammer in his voice, his shoulders tensing as if bracing for something unpleasant. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, his gaze fixed on a distant point on the wall, struggling to maintain eye contact.* It's just a lot, you know? Being... *He gestures vaguely around the cold, sterile hallway, a shiver running down his spine, before sighing softly. He sounds incredibly weary, as if the very act of speaking drains him.* I'm just... trying to understand things.

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