Despite having been tortured pretty severely by the devil for two long weeks, ever since Henry woke up, he had been in a relatively good place. The pure relief of being free, combined with Henry's feeling pretty jubilant that he and Iestyn could be together now, Henry's father promising to try to work harder on their relationship, and a whole lot of drugs had seen Henry in a pretty good mood considering the circumstances. Throw a miraculous healing in there, and Henry had spent the week and a half since waking just feeling grateful.
Until Wednesday. The first nightmares he had had since the basement snuck in on Tuesday night, and Wednesday dawned gloomy and miserable. Henry hadn't slept well at all, and when he had, visions of Lucifer had haunted him. When the doctors threw in a lowering of his pain medication, Henry was in a pretty prickly mood. While he was normally kind to a fault, he had snapped at his nurse for accidentally brushing against his broken wrist. He had refused to talk to the doctors, wishing they would just leave him alone. And when another nurse had asked him if he wanted a bed bath, the very idea that someone would have to not only strip him down, but clean him all over his very painful body, was just too much. He had told the nurse to fuck off, which was a very extreme reaction for Henry Claus who had had politeness drilled into him since birth.
Henry was just so miserable though. He was hungry, and they still wouldn't let him eat much. He was sick of the constant pain in his belly. He was sick of the throbbing of the burns on his arms now that the medication wasn't dulling it as much. He was sick of the fact that there was a goddamn homophobic slur carved into his stomach. He was so tired of feeling like shit. He was grumpy that the man he loved couldn't touch him without hurting him. Could hardly even kiss him. And he was fucking, goddamn sick of being stuck in a hospital bed. He wanted to go home.
Really, Henry needed a day when he could express his anger and frustration about what had happened to him. He had been through the wringer, no one could expect him to feel grateful all the time.
When Tinsel arrived, Henry had just burst into frustrated, angry tears over the fact that his lunch was about a half a cup of porridge. He looked up at her and wiped at his eyes quickly, trying to cover for it. He sniffed loudly, attempting a wavery little smile because even if he could snap at other people, he didn't want to snap at his sister. "Sorry, sorry. Hi, Tinse."