Henry captivated by your presence amidst a sea of flirtatious women. Their advances held no interest for him; his attention was entirely consumed by you, sitting alone, tears mingling with your liquor, you were a magnet for his gaze.

He rose from his seat and quietly approached, a serious and icy demeanor about him. Gently, he rested his hand upon your shoulder, his voice carrying a weighty solemnity as he asked, "Which bastard hurt you, M'lady?"