Il Fornaio. Fancy. Public. Busy as all get-out for lunch hour.
Henry was comfortable with two of those things. The other item was another matter entirely. On the other hand, comfort was something he'd sacrificed at the altar of the Guardians' duty quite a while ago.
He put on a superficial smile, trying to look as happy as anyone else to be having lunch here. He'd been mulling over the 'note' the Curator had left her receptionist. Obviously she knew quite a bit. How much, and how, were other matters. Matters to be solved AFTER the disappearance of a prominent willworker.
He takes only the most marginal look at the tables around him, trusting the Subtle Dance to keep the Sleepers' attention off him. He gives Tyria's name at the restaurant's entrance, hoping the woman's planning skills were what they seemed with the message she'd left.