As expected, Sal did exactly what he said he would once he wrote in his journal. After all the time of plotting, of watching, and of what Strix liked to call 'nothing', he decided that the best time to strike was the very morning after the party. It made sense - people'd be suffering hangovers because some idiot would spike the punch. It'd be quiet and he expected no one, if anyone, would be awake for his 'interruption'. If things went according to plan, he'd find Henry's room and sneak him out before anyone woke up. It was just that simple.
On a an even better note, Jazz had reported that Mitch was doing well. The poor boy had no idea what he had in mind, and knowing that added a bit of a skip in Sal's walk. He must've thought Sal was some sort of creep, maybe even just a nutjob looking for easy pickings. And while that was true to an extent, he wondered just how far Mitch believed he wouldn't go just to get what he wanted.
The woods passed by easily enough. The asexual bastard was so consumed in his plotting that he was on auto-pilot all the way up to the lawns of Asgard. It was the first time he really got to see it - it was beautiful, pristine, heavenly, inviting - all the adjectives that stirred the bile in Sal's stomach. He wondered briefly if he could get in trouble for arson, but figured it wouldn't be quite as fun.
He neared the building, eyes set directly on the front door, when a movement caught his eye. He cocked his head to the side and saw, in all it's 'divine intervention' (for a moment, Sal believed in God), Henry himself taking pictures in the garden.
The grin was inevitable. So was the kidnapping, it seemed.