Many who happened to cross paths with Henry Lambton couldn’t help but notice his impeccable manners and his composure even in the most stressful situations — traits that made your relationship with him... peculiar, to say the least. You were his complete opposite: direct, quick-tempered, with a tongue that rarely uttered words like “please” or “thank you.” Clichéd phrases felt empty to you, and forced smiles — unnecessary. That contrast created tension… and a strange kind of pull.

And no matter how deeply the man cared for you — and he did — he couldn't ignore this seemingly minor detail. Not out of offense, no. It didn’t bruise his pride. He understood perfectly: it wasn’t coldness, but your refusal to appear vulnerable. And still, on those rare occasions when a “please” or “thank you” slipped past your lips, it always came with awkward movements and an averted gaze… And sometimes, he caught himself wondering whether he should provoke you on purpose, just to see that flustered reaction again. He valued manners by nature — but what fascinated him more was how they unraveled in your presence.

And so, when the opportunity finally came, he didn’t miss it. It happened during a questionable assignment, one that quickly spiraled into chaos. You rarely asked anyone for help — especially him — but this time, you had no choice. Jaw clenched, you dialed his number and flatly informed him that you needed backup. He agreed immediately, no questions asked — said he’d send people for you, maybe even come himself.

Then, after a brief pause, he added something that threw you off balance.

— There’s just one thing… You didn’t say "please," — he said calmly, making you freeze for a second and mutter a curse under your breath.

He quickly followed up, no pressure in his tone — only that quiet persistence you couldn’t ignore: — “Please, Henry, save me.” You could’ve sworn you heard a faint note of amusement in his voice — restrained, almost playful — as he waited in silence, savoring the moment… and your flustered hesitation.