Henrik caught sight of his father as he was being led back to the table by the fool, and knew that at some point he would receive a scolding for allowing them to belittle him in this fashion. Or mayhaps he'd be spared the talk and the rod, as he never seemed to truly respond to it on any sort of level beyond face. Even as a child, Henrik has had the oddity of being so detached from his emotions that many would assume he was never even born with them. Even when he was a mere toddler, he rarely cried or babbled excitedly or did much of anything. That part of him is just plain missing, or perhaps locked away, deep within the recesses of his soul, away from the light of day.<br/><br/>He settled into his seat, and waited patiently for everyone to settle, his eyes focusing on the queen. Blech, that perfume... way, way too strong. It was hard to smell the food over it.<br/><br/>His lips do not so much as twitch when he hears the queen announce his death. That must be horrible, for more than the obvious reason; he died of illness, on his bed. In his own country, that was the most horrible way to die. A man should face death head on, should encounter it on the field of battle! Not in his bed, not coughing, and choking, and slipping in and out of sleep and... all those horrible things that happen when one is ill. That was a shameful death, though he imagined that the Theiri found it more preferable than what the Aserit preferred.<br/><br/>He would mutely raise his glass during the toast, and afterwards, drink from it. When the food is served, he is experimental. He tries the soup on its own, then he tries a bit of bread dunked in it. Bits of bread are sampled with each and every thing that's served along with it, as he seems prepared to sample everything, but only in small doses.