[It is one Henry Jekyll, in particularly good spirits. Not so strange a look on him, though. He spots Grell before she can say anything, bright green eyes meeting hers. And then there's red. But it isn't in his eyes, it's in his cheeks, a rising blush, bashful for a moment. He quickly looks down, as far away from Grell's gaze as they can possibly be. But he approaches even so, as his smile calms into something more fitting of that apparent shyness.]

Miss Sutcliffe - Grell, how good it is to see you.