Always Harry.

          Warm eyes flit over the glass in the blond’s hand before raising back towards the familiarly impish expression - it’s ironic that Harry continues to ‘enjoy’ certain aspects of the living despite the inability to do so to its fullest capacity. It’s unfortunate, a poignant sense of pity wistfully ebbing away.

                    “Y’know, you’re the only person I know who calls me that… well, to my face that is. Who knows what other names are said behind my back.” It doesn’t bother him as such but it’s amusing to consider, a small shake of his head dismissing the notion entirely before moving onto the upcoming topic.

          “Yeah, I’m rep-ing us for the evening. Dad and one of my cousins wanted to come along but they’re a lil tied down right now with an issue that’s taking up far too much of their time - a small infestation that’s sorta threatening an area in South Africa. I was hoping to talk to some of our more international guests to gain any useful cultural insights.”

           “I dunno. Probably things like Gorgeous, Beautiful, Light of my Life-- Springtime Nerd and Baby Animals Enthusiast also applicable.” He was pretty sure there were a number of animated cartoons that had characters within their tales that he could readily ascribe to the individual standing before him now. 

                       He pulls the glass away from his lips and returns to swirling it around to occupy his hand while he listens to the low-down on the Azure Dragon clan. Always interesting to hear what they were up to, felt like they were always busy with this or that. 

All the things he was saying, with such a casual familiarity… Jennifer couldn’t stop herself from weeping.  Not because she didn’t believe him- after all she had been through with the turning and now this- she knew it to be all too horribly true.

“Wh- if you’re here, does that mean you knew someone w-would die tonight?  Why didn’t anyone d-do anything to stop it?”

Jennifer put her hands to the floor beneath her- she felt nothing but pressure beneath her palms, where there should have been cold marble.  Everything was numb.  She closed her eyes tightly, wishing the living ghosts of the party guests would disappear from her vision.  No such luck.

She tried her best to stand, and though she was a tall woman, she stood quite small.  She was drawn into herself.  As if afraid of unseen horrors in the deathscape, although she knew she and the boy were the only two bodies present.

“You can see I’m not doing well.  This wasn’t how it was supposed to end!  I was struggling, trying to… trying to find acceptance and guidance,” she admitted, trying to rationalize this with herself and him.  “I don’t… I don’t want to go, but I don’t want to stay…  Not with these people.”

Realizing what he meant by the phrase ‘whichever that happens to be’, she began whimpering anew, wondering if anything that came next would be worse than this state of limbo.

      The outpour of emotion towards the events she’d suffered was familiar, in a far-off, somewhat distance way. He felt personally detached from it all, while still holding the vivid memories of having once been in the very same situation. Leaving him without burden, but not without empathy. 

            So he kept quiet, knowing one needed space at such a critical point in their... unlife. It’s only when she asks questions of him that he speaks again. 

                                 “We thought something might happen, sure. Can’t say I ever know who it’ll be, or who will be the reason for it, just that... Just a sense. Nothing someone can ‘stop’...”

               It’s not comforting, but it’s the truth. And in cases like these, he just has to hope the truth will be enough of a comfort. Even as she continues to attempt to process all of this, in a way that he’s seen all too many times before... 

                                When she stands, he looks to her; tempted to voice that she’s managing to compose herself better than other souls he has come across before. He deliberates on how much value she’d garner from that, and ends up defaulting from it. 

                     “If it makes you feel any better-- wherever you’re headed, you’ll find people who went through just same things you did. People who had the same questions, struggled with the same deals...  Whether or not someone was able to give others acceptance in this life, death tends to put things into perspective - for everyone”

          “Wh–” The man startles, only just short of jumping out of his own skin before he turns to recognise the other, familiar face settling his wrecked nerves back down again (if only just slightly). 

           He sighs, shaking his head.

         “Think I missed my shot on that.” Connors tries for a wheeze little laugh, but it comes out more of an awkward, choked noise. “I– No. God, no. I don’t know anyone here. Why would I?”

              A gentle snort sounds itself within his throat as he places the mystery glass on the nearest table he passes, nudging it along with his knuckles before coming to stand in front of the dorkiest werewolf he has ever had the pleasure of knowing. 

                   “Because uh, party. Social gathering, by definition. People don’t usually turn up to those unless they know at least someone, or have tried to know someone by thirty minutes in - but I figured you’d be happy enough just getting to know the glass you’re standing around holding.”

          “Never use that word again - it sounds like something you’d hear about at the doctors…“ The portmanteau is met with a playful albeit exaggerated rolls of his eyes, the gesture coupled with a stern expression purely for effect.

                    William awkwardly shifts a little on the spot, the unravelling of nerves evident as fingertips idly play with the stem of the glass in hand - it’s smooth to the touch and unremarkable, but the texture is nice enough to temporarily fixate on. He does manage a more pronounced yet faint simper, line of vision finally lifting to meet with the other’s.

          “Yeah? You might wanna go about it a different way.” The amusement in his voice spikes before tempering out. “I’d say it’s good to see you again, but something tells me I might regret that statement sooner or later…“

            “Think I just found my catchphrase of the decade.” Harry chimes almost as soon as William expresses his ‘disapproval’ of the invention. Words were made up practically every century - weisure was totally legit. Maybe if he spread it around enough... 

                     The twinkle of mischief in his eye remains as he drums his fingertips once along the curved side of his own glass, red wine rippling gently from beneath the short-lived rhythm that thrummed through its body. He puts it to his lips, a small smirk tugging as William comes at him with that rebuttal. 

“You… you what?  Why would… why would you say that?”

Jennifer sat shakily on the cold mansion floor, her legs splayed as she tried to focus on the world around her.  There had been… and then… but she…

The young man making weak jokes shone in her vision with surprising clarity, while the world around her was distant, muffled, and blurred in a veil of blue.  Everyone at the party was faceless- if she tried to look too closely, she found she couldn’t see them at all.

Why was no one acknowledging her?  Jennifer began to cry softly, in such a state of shock and confusion- all while there was this stranger talking about Big Bad Wolves- what was he even saying?

“Wh-what happened?  I don’t… I don’t understand…”

          It’s... A strange sensation, when you think about it. 

     As far as anyone else who sees him may be be concerned, he’s just standing there in this hall, staring off into the distance looking a little lost in thought. Not having an entire internalized interactive conversation with a recently deceased soul on her way out. 

                She’s scared, this one. Really wasn’t ready to go. From what he’d heard of her story, he can... kinda see why. He’d say it was unfair but, damn. It’s hardly ever fair, is it. Sometimes wondered if there was a method to any of it - in the end it just feels like a roulette spin every time. 

                                      Harry tries to explain a little. 

                         “I’m afraid you’re dead, miss. Murdered while at this party. Can’t say how or why or by who, I’m just here to see how you’re doing, and... make sure you get along to the next world okay.”  He turns slightly, looking at the people around them. 

                                          “They can’t see you, and I’m guessing you can barely see them - sorta how it goes. As you’re dead, your soul’s now in-transit to the next realm you’re destined for - whichever that happens to be for you. I mean, unless you linger with regret, in which case you manifest as a ghost here for a while...”

                            He considers for a moment, then adds.

               “--Can I just say it’s a work and leisure thing?  Like ... ‘Weisure’.”  

       Harry can’t manage that without a humored grin inching up his features as he attempts describes the phenomenon of somehow indulging in both at once. After all, William is well aware of how things work by now -  it makes things easy, in a way.

                   Seeing as Harry is, well, nothing if not professional. Whether he’s here or there, in this time or that; whether it’s true or untrue, it’s just par the course for his uncommitted reasons. A little bit playful, innately flexible. It’s not like even work always happened as planned...

           “I had some line about a Big Bad Wolf, or... I dunno, it was funny. Might have made you laugh or, at least distract you a little from everything that’s going on.   

                  I know it’s a lot, so. Just take your time. You’ve got all of it in the world.” 

                          You’d think experience would make something like this easy. 

       He ambles up on this particularly erudite acquaintance of his while swirling a cup of - whatever it is he just picked up. He didn’t notice, nor does it particularly matter; it’s already traversing down his throat. Can’t taste a thing, but he imagines it tastes divine. 

                Harry’s speaking already by the time he swallows.

FightAsOne AU: Week 8 - Monster Murder Mystery

   ➢ Harry Osborn as “Why The Fuck Do I Get Closer To Death Every Single AU” - Death’s Errand Boy

       So, here’s the thing. Boy lives happy life. Plague visits boy’s village. Boy succumbs to plague, and in final hour beseeches Death to grant him eternal life. Eternal life sort-of granted; worst job ever with no prospects or promise of promotion definitely granted. 

     Seriously, pretty sure it’s been more than a thousand years and there hasn’t even been a raise handed my way. Like once. Hard to get a raise when you don’t even get paid for what you do, you know. Boss is kind of an asshole - don’t tell ‘em I said that. I mean, they now officially know already being some kind of omniscient concept, but don’t tell ‘em I said that.

          Whatever, I’m over it. Kinda learned to enjoy this whole show. The job is the job as they say nowadays - and it has its perks. I get to travel all over the place, meet all kinds of monsters and humans. Not to mention, carry the sentiment of hearts where it pertains to loved ones lost, on one side or the other - from one side to the other...

              Speaking of, today’s schedule, today’s schedule--. The Party, right. It’s the Bal Des Sauvages that Nefaria family have in the works. Sweet, always dig a good party. One could even say it might be an occasion to die for. 

    Molly swallows, but the lump in her throat doesn’t seem to dissipate… or it just feels like way.

   For some reason, each words Harry speaks, only deepens the frown on her face and the ache in her chest. Not because she doesn’t want him to speak, but what he says…

  Even after how poorly things ended between them, he’s still willing to do so much for her, so much she doesn’t deserve, yet she knows if she even implies that notion, he’ll try to dissuade her that kind of thinking. 

         Just like he always has.

Just likes she’s tried to do with him, and even though they couldn’t see eye to eye on some matters, she’d still try to. Even after how vilely she had treated him.

   “Harry, I…”. She’s how to respond to his words. All she really wants to to is wrap her arms around him and hug him, and just hope things will work themselves out. But a voice in the back of her mind tells her how childish that thinking is. Besides, given the last thing she said to him, cursed at him, it’s seemed… inappropriate.

    But, she thinks, being honest really couldn’t hurt, so, she decides to go with that.

   “Harry… I don’t want to act like nothing happened, because it did. W-we really hurt each other with our words and actions and, I feel so terrible when I think about what I said to you. I, might still disagree with you, but… I want to be your friend more than… more than be angry with you”.

  “To be completely, honest, I wish we could just hug and go get ice cream and act like nothing ever happened, but, I’m so tired of trying to act like things are fine in peachy, especially when I know I hurt my friends. I-I hope that makes a little sense, because I don’t know what to freakin’ do”.

         What he feels well up within him is a    difficult sentiment. One rife with a deep inner conflict that stretches back for months on end, raises questions about himself and the nature of the impact he’s had on the people around him. The people close to him. 

                The sigh leaves his nose before he can stop it, self-directed. Self-inflicted. He’s lost the use of words, and can no longer muster the faintest idea of what to say next. So he lets it all hang like that; in an upended, incomplete atmosphere of his own making.

                        And anticipates Molly having it more together for the both of them. A prescient thought, it proves. At first it’s just a mirror image looking back at him; doubt, hesitation. A sense of being lost for word and wit alike. 

                           But then she surprises him all over again. And he can almost hear the slight intake of breath that permeates his response as she goes on to detail precisely what’s going on here between them - and how, potentially, maybe they could move on from it.

                       Yeah, she was more mature than most adults he knew. 

           He’s struck with this thought - not for the first time, and that fact alone is enough to pick up at the corners of his mouth. Just slightly. Just enough. The prelude to the somewhat mellowed tone that follows.

              “Guess that’s it for pretending. It’s exhausting to do, anyway. We all know what happened, and who did whatever already. But, I like this idea you mentioned of... maybe paying attention to what we want as much as what we know.” 

                    “It’s not gonna change what happened, but we do get a say in how things go from here. At least, with this... So maybe we can try the whole friends and ice cream thing again, without having to do any of the pretend stuff. A bit of both.”

    A slight pause, before he’s brave enough to venture with a tentative smile.

       I am… intimately, dangerously familiar with that feeling, yes…

                  What hell are you about to bring down on yourself, Harry?

          What am I ever not about to bring down on myself.

          A timid simper curls over the edges of the teen’s lips with the series of simple gestures - light taps against his cheeks here, the inclination of the other’s visage into his crown there. They bring about a wonderfully overwhelming sensation of warmth, his form edging deeper into the couch and shifting somewhat on the spot as Billy makes himself more cozy in the other’s desirable company. Luckily, Val seems to be momentarily content to remain in place, the bearded dragon resting upon denim as her languid movements draw to a halt.

                    “Hey, c’mon - I look pretty healthy right now.” A quick and discerning glance is cast over his arm, digits lightly rolling up the edges of his sleeve to reveal an apparent difference in skin tone. As if in triumph, Billy gently prods Harry in the chest. “We can’t all be orange like you.” The boy’s smile becomes more assertive, a raised eyebrow aimed in the blond’s direction in the form of a little challenge lighthearted in nature. It’s his turn to scoff with the escalating series of accusatory emojis, the poke of his fingertip progressing into a number of gentle taps. a pleased demeanour of mischief developing.

           “See, what I wouldn’t tell you is that I knew you’d react like that. Sure, I’ll be waiting at my window for you… but that’s ‘cause I’d have a bunch of waterballoons with your name on!”

          It’s merely habit for Harry’s eyes to follow where Billy’s deign to fall, in this particular occasion upon the light tint of the skin upon the other boy’s arm. A thoughtful noise hums - very deliberately - in his throat as protests that the difference isn’t all too much rise to note. Punctuated by the prod to his chest, something he breaks into a small chuckle over. “C’mon, my orange days were back in high school.”      He’s better with the whole tanning concept these days.  A lot better.  

                  It’s with no small degree of humor that he watches the fingertip tap repeatedly in place, a sure sign of oncoming teasing self-evident. And then that voice starts the tell-tale set-up, a sort of lilt so unique to Billy that he finds his own impish grin infectiously beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth - just waiting for the punchline. It comes, and Harry’s prepared. 

@habeas-oscorpus

“Hey, Harry?” 

     “You got a sec?” 

There’s a file in his hands, papers and post-its bursting out of the three available edges. 

           He hasn’t scheduled this meeting or anything, and he’s desperately hoping that the friend card will get him some time. 

                 “I really gotta talk to you about something…” 

            “Yeah. ‘t’s up?”

      Harry answers conversationally, lingering by the drinks bar at the side of his office an currently perusing his options . 

          --You ever get the really specific feeling that you want something, or you want to stick your nose somewhere, and you’re pretty sure no good’s gonna come of it - but you wanna do it anyway?