She'd caught his attention immediately, not because of looks or clothes, but because of the feel of the air around her. It felt like that place, like she had been there too and was trying to get rid of the memory. Henry knew from his own time there that you couldn't wash it away, that it wouldn't let you forget. But he still tried.
On impulse, one he didn't completely understand, he went to her table. The café was small, a quiet place. Or, as quiet as a busy little place could be. The tables were medium sized, made of oak and had been polished some. Here the walls were a pale blue, some pictures hung on them of various size and portrayal. He glanced at them briefly before pausing in front of her. She was aware of his presence, probably had been since he'd turned in her direction. Even with her blonde head pillowed on her folded arms feigning sleep, he could tell she was awake and tense.
"Are you alright?"
It was a stupid question to ask, he didn't even know this girl, but it was all he could think of. Slowly her head lifted, showing a pale face dusted with freckles and large brown eyes. Something in her face made him think her sad, as if she had experienced pain on a level that made it a permanent part of her. She scanned his face warily, muscles still tense.
"You too?"
Her voice was soft, tired, and there was the underlying sadness he'd somehow expected from her. Blonde hair was cut in a choppy bob, bangs swept to the right and over her eye. It fell in layers around her head, short especially in the back. High cheekbones and bow shaped pale pink lips, skin unblemished. The odd look she was giving him brought Henry back to the present.
"After being there… I don't think it will ever be okay. Not really."
His voice sounded pensive, softer than usual to him. The girl nodded, sitting back and letting her arms fall limply at her sides. She sighed, nodded at the chair in front her. Henry sat slowly, discreetly examining her from behind his bangs and lashes.
He assumed she would be about 5'6" standing. She wore a sleeveless orange turtle neck under a white vest dotted with pockets, a short green skirt that left most of her legs bare. He glimpsed brown leather boots under the table. Looking up at her face Henry noticed that she had been examining him too. There wasn't much to see in his opinion, other than the dark circles under his eyes. He was wearing a black button down shirt, blue jeans and his sneakers.
"Nightmares or memories?"
She studied his face in an offhand manner, like she had seen others like them too. She probably had. He didn't know what it was, but there was something about her that seemed familiar. Reminded him of that place and something else…
"Both. At least for me."
He couldn't speak for Eileen. He didn't want to know what might or might not plague her. Henry cared for her, cared a lot, but he had his share of demons. The apartment had been full to the brim of demons, phantoms and hellish creatures. It was only inevitable that he and Eileen ended up taking some with them.
The blonde slowly extended her hand, "Heather." Blinking to bring himself back to the present Henry looked at her hand. It was small, fine calluses on her fingers. He took it, grip firm but light as he shook. A ghost that might have been a smile crossed her face, "Your name?"
"Henry." She hadn't given her last name, so he didn't either. It wasn't like they would see each other again.
"Eventually it will go away. Not forever, but it will." She let go, sitting back again as a dark haired waitress put a steaming drink in front of her. Hot chocolate, he guessed, by the sight and smell. "You think so?" Henry shook his head when the waitress asked if he wanted anything. Heather stared into her mug, yet to pick it up. She looked sad, more so now, and pensive.
"You aren't like the other guy I ran into. It won't go away for him, never. You have the slim chance."
Somehow, that comforted him. He tried to smile, but it came out strained. Heather nodded, finally picking up her drink with both hands and blowing on the liquid. Glancing at the clock he saw that it was ten past five, he would be late if he stayed any longer. Glancing at her again he slowly stood.
"Will you be alright?"
A tired shrug was his only answer, petal pink lips touching the off white mug to sip the chocolate. She stared out the window, watching people pass by. Henry got the unspoken dismissal, turning away from his new acquaintance and heading for the door.
Briefly Heather let her eyes attach themselves to his retreating back. The third one in the past six weeks to approach her. The third one to have gotten out of that place, to have found her. It was unexpected. She didn't like unexpected things, never had.