No kidding. [He peers over the edge of the roof. A tiny smile pulls at one edge of his mouth, and he suddenly finds himself thinking of Tiago.] Like a spider. Pretty sure if I tried the same, I'd be a smear on the street right about — [he uses the end of his cigarette to point down to a strip of pavement lit by a lamp far below them] — there.
[And he doesn't doubt him, either. Not after having seen what people like Drifter and Arkady can do. It does kind of put a dampener on his own recovery efforts though. A bit of light jogging and the ability to climb a few flights of stairs without bleeding through his pants? Apparently not all that impressive!
With the drunk comment, Harry's smile winces into something rueful. As if to mask it, he takes a long, slow pull, eyes only flicking across at the mention of the LED.
And what do you know: Connor's telling the truth. Harry's neck twists more, body leaning as he turns enough to get a proper look at that now clear spot. It must be a mind-fuck, based on the way he stares dumbly for a moment, lips pressing together.]
Just like that. [A soft huff.] Shit, man. I wouldn't even know you were— [He seems to catch himself before he can say something overtly stupid. Only, his mouth is still hanging open, and now there are creases lining his forehead.
He clears his throat.]
Hey, listen... [He takes a deep breath. Then, on the exhale:] Sorry if I, uh... I don't know. If I said or did anything I shouldn't have said or done, you know? [A beat.] Before. When I was drunk.
[He doesn't remember anything particularly devastating, but there's a point where the memory just cuts off, and from what he knows of his own history, it's probably better to get the apology in now.]
no subject
[And he doesn't doubt him, either. Not after having seen what people like Drifter and Arkady can do. It does kind of put a dampener on his own recovery efforts though. A bit of light jogging and the ability to climb a few flights of stairs without bleeding through his pants? Apparently not all that impressive!
With the drunk comment, Harry's smile winces into something rueful. As if to mask it, he takes a long, slow pull, eyes only flicking across at the mention of the LED.
And what do you know: Connor's telling the truth. Harry's neck twists more, body leaning as he turns enough to get a proper look at that now clear spot. It must be a mind-fuck, based on the way he stares dumbly for a moment, lips pressing together.]
Just like that. [A soft huff.] Shit, man. I wouldn't even know you were— [He seems to catch himself before he can say something overtly stupid. Only, his mouth is still hanging open, and now there are creases lining his forehead.
He clears his throat.]
Hey, listen... [He takes a deep breath. Then, on the exhale:] Sorry if I, uh... I don't know. If I said or did anything I shouldn't have said or done, you know? [A beat.] Before. When I was drunk.
[He doesn't remember anything particularly devastating, but there's a point where the memory just cuts off, and from what he knows of his own history, it's probably better to get the apology in now.]