[He agrees with that — there are far, far worse things to be afraid. More monstrous things found in day-to-day life, hidden by polite smiles; he does not twig the irony of this own thought, however, as it would apply to himself.

Eyes flicker down to the clinking jars. There are so many; he’d like to see them all.]

I’m not going to let all the trouble you went to be for nothing.

[The truth is: his curiosity gnaws at him, the fascination burgeoning in his eyes. He wants to see the spiders she’s caught — are any of them different in this world? Would he even know, trapped as he was for twenty years in a lab?

Henry finally eases the large spider back into its jar, nudging it forward gently with a thumb so that it finds purchase again on a twig. He moves to close the lid.]

I want to at least look at them. And I guess I should thank you for your effort. Maybe I'll think of names, too.

[speaking of names... they don't know each other's...]