[Ah, he sees her problem. His hands are also gloved, but he doesn't mind yanking one off for this purpose. He pulls it with his teeth and with thin fingers, he reaches for her hair and pulls one of the shorter strands from her layered style.]

Sorry, just a pinch. [Usually you should warn before the action, but oh well.] Now give me a minute and I'll have this good to go.

[If it were a more complicated curse, he might need that living creature for sacrifice. But her name, her hair, and a few of the dried, meaty rations provided by Darma seems to suit his needs... plus an odd concoction of greenish powder that he dumps from a vial into his hand? If asked, Henry would say he pilfered it from the cafeteria. He mumbles some runic language under his breath, bows over his work, and smacks his palms together, a cloud of grayish, archaic energy bursting forth as a result. Once he unclasps his hands, nothing remains.]

Abracadabra, aaaand... Presto! One gentle warming curse whipped up just for you, Diva. That should be settling in no time flat, and you'll be back to toasty warmth. [He slides his glove back on.] Tell me how it is!