He considered it, eventually saying, "...okay. Over here." There was a bench in the courtyard of South Ashfield Heights- it sat near the wall that edged along the street and faced the inside of the courtyard. That was public enough, especially if they were going to talk about what he thought they were going to talk about. Henry didn't want to, but if this guy was willing to wait for him to come outside, then he'd follow him wherever he went.

So he walked towards the bench, keeping Jack within his line of sight. "I...don't know how to say this, but...your eyes. They're wrong." In fact, he thought that was the worst way to say it. "I mean, I've seen someone with eyes like yours before....he was dead."

He realized, far too late, that this man might be from the press. 'Oh, hell, please don't be a reporter...' he thought, closing his eyes briefly. It would still be better than anyone from that cult, at least.