She doesn't mind at all, trying to assist him with the sweep of her matted hair. Although, she worries about what he'll make of the wound on her neck. It's very obviously rough and has been ripped open by something rougher. A keen eye may think it's teeth.

"1851?" Her eyes widen in wonderment and excitement. That means he's older than Stefan and Damon in terms of immortal years, and yet... he's so different. She lets out a soft, incredulous laugh. If only Stefan was here, maybe Henry would have someone to reminisce with. "That's why you call me "ma'am", which you don't need to do. You can just call me Elena if you want. Unless that makes you uncomfortable?"