"My advice, my advice, my advice, my advice." Henry spun on one foot before he pushed open the door to the kitchen where their belongings were hanging against one wall. He was humming the words under his breath, thinking as he turned the request over in his head. His advice? His advice would be to take a stroll in the fresh, cool night air, enjoying each other's company and getting to know a bit more about each other. This woman had apparently entrenched herself in his family house with nary a qualm on anyone's part - Matilda had accepted her, albeit grudgingly, and the kids seemed to like having someone else around, someone new. He'd like to know more about her - did she like kids, or was she putting on a brave face around the rambunctious horde that had been running about? What did she do with her days, besides singing and dancing?

But - but his advice wasn't appropriate, not for this situation. Because he already had an insight into the kind of girl that Yvonne was. While she might not be actively against the idea, Henry knew that the girl would prefer to be doing something with her time, along while talking. Not exactly his preference, because he preferred to enjoy life more simply, more... languidly. Despite that - well, proceeding at a more energetic pace wasn't something he would hate doing. So, as he took her scarf down from the hook and held it out for the girl, he was lost in thought. This made him fall into old, ingrained habits from years of looking after the children, and as he was thinking of where to take her he moved automatically.

Deft hands smoothly laid the scarf across her shoulders, and he tied it together around her neck, smoothing it out with a gentle touch as he hummed in thought. His mind was entirely elsewhere, until he went to smooth down the scarf as it fell and he realized that he was not tending to one of the children. "AH!" He leapt away, his face turning a bright scarlet.

"A- a - sorry sorry! Sorry!" He stammered, the normally even keeled musician blushing fiercely. "So sorry! UHm. Uhm. sorry." He snatched up his fiddle from where he had set it on the table. "We-shou- we should ah, go out. Yes. Uhm. There are a few stores that run late. Night bakery, I know there's a blacksmith that likes to work in the evenings because 'the sun hurts his eyes' and - " as he was speaking, Henry was rapidly backpedaling, practically tripping over himself as he tried to get away from the mishap.