The short, dark woman didn't appear to be injured, which was a bit of a relief for Henry. After dusting herself off she seemed perfectly fine, so he had relaxed a bit - their collision had had remarkably little casualty to it. When she started looking at him through her eyelashes one corner of his mouth started to twist upwards in amusement, only to halt when she deflated at some thought that crossed her mind. Before he could ask what it was she had pressed on - and he stared at her in blank shock for a moment before bursting into laughter.

The woman - he really did need to ask her name, now that he thought of it - was most certainly new to town, if she didn't know that a large number of the children that roamed the streets were from a local orphanage. The musician shook his head, his shaggy hair swaying around his face as he turned to wipe some of the tears of amusement from his eye on his shoulder. "No, no, miss, you've the wrong of it there." He chuckled again and tilted his head to the left, in the direction that he had been walking before their sudden meeting. "I'm not a married man, nor a father, a tad too young for that I think. This bread is for the children at the orphanage where I grew up." He winked at her.

"They're rambunctious little ones, and any time the shopkeeps here in town can see a way to avoid having the children invade their stores, they're happy for it. Beatrice, the baker, took advantage of my return to do just that." His trained ear picked up a faint sound, a tempo that was at odds with the calm of the night. The new tempo was chorused, repeat after repeat, making the blue-eyed musician turn his head in the direction of the sounds. He had a moment or two to process before he chuckled and braced himself, planting his right leg firmer on the ground. This was what he had missed before the dark-skinned woman had run into him, the sound of running, and this time he was not caught unawares.

There were three of them, with an older boy ambling along behind them, shaking his head. Three madly dashing, arms flailing, legs pelting the dirt, children, sprinting madly towards the conversing duo. Their attention was focused on the bread-carrying man, and when they got close enough to be heard - "HENRY! YOU'RE HOME!" - rang down the street, making a few people look in their direction. One kid, a young boy reached Henry first, and was halfway up the musician's back, hanging onto his travel-pack as he peered over Henry's shoulder. The other two, a young girl in a dusty pair of leggings and an over-long shirt, and a boy who had apparently lost his own shirt somewhere, slammed into the musician's legs, holding onto his waist and staring up at him. Or, perhaps, at the bread he was carrying.

"Why didn't you tell anyone you were comin' back Henry? Mama Matilda didn't say nuthin' about you comin' back, and she would have yes she would!" "Is that bread for us Henry? Mams sent us and Lethro for the bread from Mrs. Beatrice, but if you've already got it then we can just go home with you and the bread! See, Lethro, we can do things too!" "Henry, who's the short dark lady? Is she your friend? Are you bringing her home to meet Mama Matilda?" The voices of the children ran over each other in their excitement. and Henry was shaking his head with a grin at most of it - though he did stop and turn to look over his shoulder at the boy who was hanging off of his backpack, staring down at the black-skinned dwarf.

"And where did you hear about bringing someone home to meet Mama Matilda, Theo? And no, this young lady is someone I just met, I've not even the pleasure of her name." Henry turned his head to look at the older boy, Lethro, who was apparently the person assigned to shepherd the energetic children that were holding onto Henry. "Hello, Lethro. She sent you to watch the kids?" The boy nodded, shaking his head at the antics of the children that had sprinted off from him. Henry shook his head and turned back to look at the woman. "Sorry about that if they're a little rude, they're still learning propriety." He grinned.