"Try telling everyone else that," Harry remarked with a humorless laugh. It's the comment about his father that gets Harry to look up in surprise, though. Norman Osborn was a difficult man. He expected perfection from his employees-- and his son. But he also sponsored Unity Day celebrations every year and raised awareness for the problems he felt strongly about. A lot of Oscorp's funds went to researching cures for various diseases. A lot of people forgot stuff like that. Not Spider-Man, it seemed. "--Thank you." It meant a lot to hear that when so few - understandably - had positive opinions of the Osborns. He swallowed a lump in his throat and nodded slowly. "Yeah... He did." A bittersweet smile tugged at his mouth. "You sure have a lot of faith in me for a guy who tried to punch my face in earlier."
That smile transforms into a sincere chuckle once Spider-Man snorts at him. "Why the laugh? You've saved the city twice, y'know. I think you've earned your stripes. This city always complains, especially when you've got Jameson egging 'em on."
Well, here's hoping. Harry wasn't exactly keen on walking into Oscorp with a bruised face. That would get him some unwanted attention that only so many lame excuses could brush off. But then Spider-Man went quiet and an apology raced to the tip of Harry's tongue. Did he breach a subject he shouldn't have? Even when Spider-Man answered him, he wasn't sure. He averted his eyes again, staring at his dangling feet while he picked at his pant legs. "Sorry. I didn't mean to--" A breath. It wasn't an easy topic. For anyone. But sometimes Harry forgot that her death hadn't just affected Peter, or her family, or him. Gwen touched a lot of lives with her bright presence, and suddenly, that light was just gone. And Spider-Man blamed himself for not saving her. Harry couldn't bring himself to point fingers at him when he saw what his father had become. "I... don't think anyone can blame you for stepping back."
Now, it's Harry's turn to snort. "Alright, smart-ass. You pick a time and I'll let you look at the glider. Show me the error of my ways." And if he were being honest, he'd really appreciate having someone with an actual mind for science giving his work a look over.
The sudden collision with his chest got an undignified yelp out of Harry, who flailed a bit to keep his balance. "Hey!" And what does he do? Immediately try to peel it off. And of course it sticks to his hand. He didn't think this through. "Oh, great. You're such a jerk," he complained, pouting when tugging proved completely ineffective.
Worst case scenario, he'd have to take off his glove and it would just have to stay stuck to his chest for a while.
no subject
That smile transforms into a sincere chuckle once Spider-Man snorts at him. "Why the laugh? You've saved the city twice, y'know. I think you've earned your stripes. This city always complains, especially when you've got Jameson egging 'em on."
Well, here's hoping. Harry wasn't exactly keen on walking into Oscorp with a bruised face. That would get him some unwanted attention that only so many lame excuses could brush off. But then Spider-Man went quiet and an apology raced to the tip of Harry's tongue. Did he breach a subject he shouldn't have? Even when Spider-Man answered him, he wasn't sure. He averted his eyes again, staring at his dangling feet while he picked at his pant legs. "Sorry. I didn't mean to--" A breath. It wasn't an easy topic. For anyone. But sometimes Harry forgot that her death hadn't just affected Peter, or her family, or him. Gwen touched a lot of lives with her bright presence, and suddenly, that light was just gone. And Spider-Man blamed himself for not saving her. Harry couldn't bring himself to point fingers at him when he saw what his father had become. "I... don't think anyone can blame you for stepping back."
Now, it's Harry's turn to snort. "Alright, smart-ass. You pick a time and I'll let you look at the glider. Show me the error of my ways." And if he were being honest, he'd really appreciate having someone with an actual mind for science giving his work a look over.
The sudden collision with his chest got an undignified yelp out of Harry, who flailed a bit to keep his balance. "Hey!" And what does he do? Immediately try to peel it off. And of course it sticks to his hand. He didn't think this through. "Oh, great. You're such a jerk," he complained, pouting when tugging proved completely ineffective.
Worst case scenario, he'd have to take off his glove and it would just have to stay stuck to his chest for a while.