"Do I have to?" Henry protests, even as Bea drags him down the hall by the scruff of his neck.

"Yes, Henry. Come on. It won't be that bad." He scoffs, coughing.

"Right. Because a dinner with Phillip and Mam isn't gonna be awkward at all." Bea rolls her eyes, but starts to nod before she catches herself and whirls around, fixing Henry with a steely glare.

"Hen, we are going to have a nice family meal for once in our lives, okay?"

"But-" Bea elbows him sharply in the ribs, and he winces and rubs his side, raising his hands and gesturing despairingly to the ceiling.

"Fine. Let's get it over with, then." He allows Bea to haul him further down the corridor, pulling her aside at the last moment, by the door he knows leads to the dining room, to hiss in her ear.

"Just...try to distract Phillip from me, will you?"

"'Course I will. You know me, Hen." Henry forces a frail smile onto his face, but it feels more like a grimace. He takes a breath, bracing himself for the meal to come that will soon enough turn into a full-blown interrogation of him by Phillip, who had recently taken it upon himself to nose about in Henry's private life.

"Let's-" He starts, turning again to Bea, and sighing when he realises she's gone on ahead, slipping through the doorway as he starts to follow, feet feeling suddenly leaden and dragging his steps.

"There he is. Late as always, of course. Did you never learn to read a clock, brother?" Henry enters the room a few seconds after Bea, but as always, Phillip ignores her, zoning in on him and beginning a litany of complaints in a long-suffering voice Henry is sure is put-on. Henry puts his head down and doesn't answer, sliding into his seat next to Bea without complaint.

Next to Phillip, his wife Martha gives Henry a sympathetic smile, but doesn't move to stop her husband as he proceeds to critique everything from Henry's hair that day, to his choice of shirt- a plain grey one that Bea had picked out for him, swearing that it was so plain and boring that Phillip wouldn't possibly find anything wrong with it. He has, of course, and Bea sneaks Henry an apologetic glance that he pretends to ignore, only picking up his fork in one fist and stabbing listlessly at his food as if it's personally wronged him.

Phillip pauses from his monologue for a breath, and Henry takes the opportunity to scan the table briefly. His Mam sits at the head, hunched over in her seat, hair scraped back in a harsh bun that highlights the creases in her face, the hollow look in her eyes. She ignores her food in favour of staring eerily at Henry- no not at him, through him, and he shudders and looks down at his plate, just as Phillip starts up again and Bea cuts in over the top of him, saying loudly.

"David was simply horrid today, Martha- he did an almighty-"

"That's quite enough, Bea." Phillip gives her a chilling glare, and Bea opens her mouth to argue, but Henry gives her a pointed look, not wanting her to get caught in the middle of his long-standing feud with Phillip, and she subsides, pinning her lips shut but scowling at Phillip just the same.

"I was just going to ask Henry about his new American...friend." Henry looks up sharply from his food, and Bea drops her fork with a clatter. Martha jumps a little, opening her mouth as if about to scold Phillip, but he blunders on, oblivious.

"Fine work, brother. Patch up the mess you caused in the first place, why don't you. What the hell were you thinking, Henry?"

"I-" Bea starts up again, furiously, but at another quelling glance from Henry she stops, though she stills looks as though she's trying to set Phillip on fire with her eyes. Henry sets down his fork deliberately slowly, allowing himself time to think.

"What was I thinking? Well, you've read the papers, I assume, Phillip. It's just like they say- it was all an accident. Just a huge misunderstanding. Alex and myself have been friends for years, you know."

"You told me he threatened to push you into the Thames once!" Philip exclaims, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. "That didn't sound very much like you were friends."

"Just friendly banter, you know." He feels a sudden flood of irritation wash over him- just that Phillip is here talking to him about Alex. He feels as though the two belong in separate worlds- they certainly seem worlds apart, and he doesn't appreciate Phillip bringing the topic up so soon. So he continues, a heavy air of trepidation hanging over him.

"Or maybe you wouldn't know. You hardly have any friends of your own." Bea snorts, claps a hand over her mouth and continues giggling, though it's muffled now. Martha leaps out of her chair, pushes it in neatly and turns on her heel and marches silently out of the room. Henry glances anxiously back at his Mam, but she only sighs and slumps lower in her seat. He turns his attention back to Phillip, whose face is turning an alarming shade of puce. Henry's fist tightens on his fork, but he continues cutting up his meat demurely. And then Phillip explodes.

"Absolutely no manners!" Is the first thing he chokes out, and Henry notices that Bea has stopped laughing now. He wishes she'd continue, so that it wouldn't only be Phillip's outraged voice shattering the heavy silence in the dining room. Martha still hasn't returned, but she's never been one for confrontation. He supposes that's why she can stay married to his brother.

"You're ignorant and ill-mannered and a disgrace on our family's good name!" Phillip continues, and Henry's starting to doubt the wisdom of his actions. He sinks low in his seat, attempting to ignore Phillip's bulging eyes that fix on him like a predator hunting their prey. And just like prey, he wants more than anything to run from the room, but he's so done with hiding and secrecy and pretending to be someone he isn't that he stays.

"You are a disgrace," He shouts again, then a pause in which the tension builds so that Henry can swear he hears the faint fizz of static in the air.

"Dad would be ashamed of you." Phillip finishes, a triumphant flush to his face. This time, it's his Mam that jumps up from her chair and stalks out the room. Phillip's face falls, his malicious grin faltering for just a moment before he pins it back in place with a flourish.

Henry has never wanted to punch someone more.