[ As he thought. It's not like Henry's particularly good at reading people, but for some reason, he finds he's sensitive to how Inigo is feeling more than others. Maybe it's because there's a bit of himself in the boy - no, the man, really - that he recognizes. Despite Inigo's uncertainties, Henry doesn't falter at all, gently patting the shoulders of the cape down to make sure it's securely on his son. ]

Naaaw. Don't be silly! I can't have you getting frostbite out here and losing your fingers and toes. I've heard it's really gross. [ straightening up, Henry plops his hands on his hips. His cheeks and nose are pink, but he's not shivering or anything. Why? Because he's Henry. ]

Besides, temperature, smemperature! I can barely feel this! I've been through way worse before.