Henry was still wearing what he'd arrived in, finding no means (or desire) to adorn the strange clothing of this time. The crown still rested upon his brow, despite the fact that his title and name apparently meant little to nothing in this time. That thought infuriated him, but he'd done a good job so far of keeping his protests to himself and not taking out his infamous temper on one of the innocent citizens of this...place. Although, Henry was unsure of how much more of this he could take.
He was twenty-five and had been King of England since he was sixteen. Formalities were something the young royal was used to - such as bowing, being addressed as "You Majesty," and being given the utmost respect; held in higher regards than anyone around. But apparently, that wasn't how things were done here. There weren't even any royals in this place aside from the Princess Yue, whom he only spoken to over that wired moving painting with impute-able words. It all baffled him and a large part of him hoped this was some crazy dream.
That he'd become ill or fallen off his horse and was trapped within his own mind, imagining all these crazy things only to wake up shortly. And although he hoped that was the case, it was becoming increasingly clear that this was real. No matter how much he didn't want to believe it. And oh, how blasphemous he felt for even considering it.
The young king had been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he nearly collided with a young blonde woman who was obviously part of this strange, futuristic world. He halted promptly, putting a hand to a brick wall at his side to steady himself.
"I do apologize, miss," he said, dropping his head ever-so-slightly for the briefest of minutes, "obscuring your path was not my intention."