The problem with picnics (other than they were a better idea in theory than in reality) was that he knew what to pack for them, but had no real desire to eat anything that involved the amount of effort picnic foods did.

So, hunks of cheese, glistening fruit, and a half loaf of baguette were sat in the sun. Henry was more involved in his books than with his bounty-- though the wine was half finished, the only parcel he'd touched.

Still, it seemed a waste to let good cheese rot away in the rare London warmth, so with a cursory look around, spotting someone who looked both bored and very nearly too thin, he'd make a slight gesture at the food, after an awkward beat of eye contact.

"I bought this-" Explained, forgoing 'hello'. "But don't have an appetite. If you'd like to take it off my hands, I'd appreciate it."