The line was FINALLY moving, and Mo inched his way up until he was right there. At the head of the line. Mo!head to bird-horse-thing!head. It was definitely one of the most exciting moments of his life, made all the better by the fact that this creature was totally in his own element. Sometimes at zoos and places, all Mo felt was bad for the creature, stuck in a pen or behind a wall and looking so miserable while it waited for someone to feed it or play with it.

But Henry looked comfortable and pleased with himself.

"Hullo," Mo whispered before recalling himself. Polite. Be polite. He bowed low and stayed down, lifting his head just enough to roll his eyes toward Henry to gauge his reaction. Wait. Why wasn't he bowing back? Why... WAS HE BEING REJECTED BY THE HIPPOGRIFF? Heartbreak.