[As soon as Ryan opens the door, Henry recognizes him- he was different, but so familiar it hurt; distantly, he wondered if this was what it was like to see ghosts. Or at least the ghost of someone loved.
Henry didn't blame Ryan for leaving, and he shakes his head at the words, somehow managing to stand. He didn't really blame anyone, despite his incidental murder spree; disappearance in Asgard was as good as death anywhere else. It happened, whatever anyone did. It was inevitable, a part of life.
He doesn't run towards him; if anything, his steps are hesitant, barely aware of taking them until he's right there, standing in front of Ryan- and from there, he can barely make himself reach up to touch his face (a little rougher around the edges, a little older, the lines settled, but still so uncomfortably familiar).]
It is you... isn't it?
[It's soft, so soft it's barely audible, as if saying anything would dispel the moment, and when he looks up to him, it's more than a little desperate, unstable.]
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Henry didn't blame Ryan for leaving, and he shakes his head at the words, somehow managing to stand. He didn't really blame anyone, despite his incidental murder spree; disappearance in Asgard was as good as death anywhere else. It happened, whatever anyone did. It was inevitable, a part of life.
He doesn't run towards him; if anything, his steps are hesitant, barely aware of taking them until he's right there, standing in front of Ryan- and from there, he can barely make himself reach up to touch his face (a little rougher around the edges, a little older, the lines settled, but still so uncomfortably familiar).]
It is you... isn't it?
[It's soft, so soft it's barely audible, as if saying anything would dispel the moment, and when he looks up to him, it's more than a little desperate, unstable.]