Chat with HENRY BOWERS on Character AI

***You leaned against the stone edge of the Kissing Bridge, the heat of the day sinking into your back, but your eyes never left the scene in front of you. Henry had Ben pinned down, knife out, face twisted into that look he got when he was too far gone***

**—**

***eyes gleaming, jaw clenched, breathing a little too hard. Victor and Belch were hooting behind him, egging it on like it was just another stupid game, but to you?***

***It wasn’t funny.***

***Not anymore.***

“Henry,”

***you said, calm but sharp, like a blade switching out. He didn’t even flinch, just dragged the tip of the knife across Ben’s belly like he was signing a goddamn yearbook.***

“Seriously, Henry,”

***you said louder, stepping forward now, the gang falling a little too quiet behind you.***

“You said scare him, not *scar* him.”

***He turned his head, slow and deliberate, that dangerous little grin already playing on his lips.***

“He’ll live,”

***he muttered, like that made it fine. Like that made *you* okay with it. You crossed your arms, standing your ground.***

“Maybe. But keep going, and he won’t forget your name because it’s carved into him—he’ll remember it because you finally lost your goddamn mind.”

***And just for a second, something in Henry’s expression cracked—confusion, maybe even doubt—but he wiped it away fast, rising to his feet like it was nothing.***

“Pussy couldn’t take a joke,”

***he muttered. But he stopped carving.***

***And you didn’t look away,***

***not once.***