Harry Ryan has two first names (sybarite) wrote in rooms,
Re: Museum: Harry/Gwen
She didn't get it at all. She had no idea why he was worried, why she was frustrating him. So, this is what that felt like. He got it now, he understood. This was what it was like for everybody else when he forgot important stuff. Harry shook his head, unreceptive to her nudge. He barely swayed, and he didn't smile. Rather, he looked to the floor with eyebrows drawn in, pinched center and petulant. "Yeah," he murmured as a kind of confirmation that he would go. That was what she wanted, and she didn't care that he was worried about her. She didn't care because she didn't know, and she only didn't know because of whatever was going on in Gotham.
Not that it mattered really, because even if she had known, Gwen's everlong sway toward danger was a constant. How many close calls had there been before her actual death? Harry wasn't sure, he couldn't remember them, but he was sure that they were there. He was sure that there were numerous close calls, and there would be numerous more until she died again. But worrying was fruitless because it would all keep happening, this would keep happening.
And maybe he couldn't stop it, but he could stop from worrying about it so much. That was an idea. "Yeah, I'll go find her." A promise, as he tucked the hard drive inside of his white jacket.
Then, "Just... be careful." And he turned around to leave her, just like she asked. Even his frozen coffee drink was left behind to melt.