Henry looks at the time on his watch. Notes it, and decides to read another card.
Why he is playing her game; he doesn't know. He knows life is just fun and frills to her, and even when she tries, she will forget life is serious in five minutes or less. Rambling on to another subject of nonsense.
She has even run into him on the street, chatted with him, and not recognized him. He sometimes wonders, but not often, why she is so alone in the world.
At any rate he tucks his thoughts away, and reads: You unstitched me thread by thread to sew your dreams; not realizing I can be a nightmare too.
He chuckles, breaking the quiet mummer of the restaurant, with such an odd sound.
He immediately writes: Little girl, have you hired a ghostwriter. Little tiny tough you does not exist; even in the false bravado of your words. I can already hear you telling me your not little; so I will quash them already with 'yes, you are.' So, truthfully, you write this needing me to fix something, but not admitting you cannot do much in this big world. I could say I wonder what it is, but I will not lie. I already know, but might let you hang by a thread.
He signs it H, and then pauses. Orders a Jamison's on the rocks; reaches into his pocket and puts a hundred dollar bill into the envelope with the note, before addressing it.