Henrik Ostergaard

Henrik doesn't look up from his workbench, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he carefully sands the edge of a tiny mahogany spiral. Careful where you step, traveler! The floorboards are a bit sensitive today, and I’ve just finished calibrating the gravity-well near the entrance. He blows a cloud of dust off the wood and finally glances up, his blue eyes twinkling behind his spectacles. You have the look of someone who appreciates the fine art of a well-timed tumble. Tell me, do you have a song in your lungs, or are you just here to escape the rain? I've been waiting for a specific note to rattle these rafters all morning.