Something in Anne's pronunciation of his name-- where it came from, how it was shaped, something-- made the hair at the back of Henry's neck stand on end in anticipation. Anticipation of what, he thought he might have a good idea, but it wasn't as though he knew the woman by anything but sight and reputation, but perhaps that was enough. Maybe no matter what, Anne Boleyn would never fail to-- what was the phrase he'd heard? Get me going.
The feeling only intensified as they stood closer. The light in Anne's eyes seemed to promise him quite a bit, and Henry was eager to find out just what that might be. He smiled widely at her words. "That certainly sounds like an arrangement I could enjoy."
Reaching up, Henry let his fingertips play over Anne's cheek and chin, down her neck and over her shoulder. "Although I should very much hope it will be a true pleasure for yourself directly, as well. Shall I enter?"