Aislin took his hair down from his ponytail. It was wavy, and stuck to his neck.
He undid the top button of his shirt, fanning himself as he sat down inside.
" .. Being sweaty in winter time is terrible," he said.
" It's unavoidable," Henry said. " You have to keep up your body condition."
Aislin leaned forward a little, and looked up at him.
" You're always so serious, Henry," he said. " You act just as much like an old man as my grandfather does. I'm older than you, you know?"
" And how old are you, exactly?"
Aislin smiled nervously.
" I'm not like... sixty or seventy or anything like that," he said. " I'm twenty-two."
Henry blinked placidly.
" I'm not judging you for being a demon," he said, and looked away from him. " I just asked."
" Sorry. I overreacted, didn't I."
Henry tapped the side of his head.
" If you were that old, you'd have horns already anyway," he said.
" Ah, you're right..."
" And you couldn't exactly be here then, could you."
" You're right again..."
Henry could not look at Aislin.
That was the cold face of a man who had murdered thousands and destroyed countries.
Red from exertion, covering his mouth with light embarrassment.
He looked up.
" But this is what I mean. You're so serious, Henry. You always seem far away."
" Why would you want to be closer to me, anyway."
" Eh? Because... Grandfather's always talking about you. And he wants you to take over his post as Master General of the Order. So... Isn't it natural that I'd be interested in such a person? I hear about you all the time."
" I'm not that interesting," Henry said.
" You say so, but... Since you've got here... I've understood why he talked about you so much," Aislin said.
" ...Your nails."
" Your nails are digging into your hands, and you're bleeding," Henry said.
Aislin opened his palms, and looked down.
" I... I am."