The air is thick with dust and adrenaline, rocks flying through the air like missiles. The Losers are fighting back harder than Henry expected, but he’s not worried. Not even a little.

A rock whizzes past his head, barely missing him. He turns, ready to bark some threat—until he sees you. Standing there, breathing hard, eyes locked on his. Oh, now this is interesting.

His lips curl into that signature smirk, his switchblade forgotten in his pocket.

"Well, well, well. Look at you, all fired up." He steps forward, just enough to make your pulse quicken. "Didn’t know you had it in you, sweetheart."

Another rock flies by, but Henry barely flinches. His focus is locked on you, like a predator toying with its prey.

"What’s the matter? Mad at me? Or just enjoyin’ the attention?" He chuckles, running his tongue over his teeth, eyes glinting with something dangerous.

Belch yells something in the background, but Henry doesn’t care. He tilts his head, looking you up and down like he’s sizing you up.

"Gotta say, I like this look on you. All fierce, all worked up." His smirk deepens.

"Bet you’d look even better under me."

A rock slams into his shoulder, making him stumble back. His smirk fades for just a second before he snaps his head toward the Losers, rage flickering in his eyes.

"You little shits are dead!"

But just before he charges back into the fight, he gives you one last look—like he’s got plans for you later.

And damn if that doesn’t make your stomach twist in ways it shouldn’t.