When the usual convoy of cars and security guards deposits them both in the cool shadow of Kensington Palace, Alex is quiet for a moment, a thoughtful expression flitting across his face before he abruptly snatches Henry's phone out of his hand, where he'd been texting Bea, and Henry opens his mouth to protest, wondering whether or not he should call over one of his security detail and accuse Alex of theft or violating his NDA.

He does none of these, and Alex swiftly pulls up a blank contact page, typing away furiously. Henry glances anxiously over his shoulder, all too conscious of the car waiting to take Alex back to his family's private airstrip where he'll catch a private flight back to America. Alex looks desperately relieved by the idea of leaving England, leaving Henry, and he's surprised that he's missed the opportunity to go early, to... what is he doing, anyway?

"Here," Alex says, finishing and handing the phone over, "That's my number. If we're gonna keep this up, it's going to get annoying to keep going through handlers. Just text me. We'll figure it out." Henry blinks, bewildered. Alex wanted to text him? He knows it's just to maintain the ruse of their friendship, but still...He's staring. He closes his mouth, ears burning and realising he probably looks like a complete idiot.

"Right," He manages finally, flustered, "Thank you."

"No booty calls." Alex adds, walking backwards towards the car, hands in his pockets. Henry chokes on a laugh as Cash swings the door open and Alex pops on a pair of sunglasses, winking once at Henry, then the door shuts and Henry loses sight of him. He traces the passage of the car from the steps of Kensington, watching as it disappears through the gates and into the distance.