Harry Ryan has two first names (sybarite) wrote in rooms,
[Gwen & Harry: Gotham]
[Harry knew everything now, everything that had happened before. All of the bullshit that he'd once prayed to forget? It was back, and he remembered why he'd wanted to desperately to get rid of it in the first place. Nobody wanted to face their failures, not when they were so glaring and green. They said that ignorance was bliss, that was something that people said, but Harry didn't think it was true. He hadn't been happy when he'd been the amnesiac. He'd operated in a peaceful, fluffy state of ignorance, but he hadn't been happy. He wasn't entirely convinced that happiness was even a real thing anyway, so it didn't much matter now.
Now, he could face it. He told himself that he was stronger, and maybe the passage of time had something to do with it. His father was long gone. All of his friends were dead or dying or just lost to alternate realities, and Harry didn't even have the energy to feel hurt by any of that. Before he'd woken up to all of his memories, Harry had relished in the betrayal of it all, of Gwen's return and all those secrets kept from him… and now? Now, there was too much of the past to get so fucked up about the present. It weighed him down physically, his shoulders slouched.
He was wearing a black button-down shirt of ribbed cotton, some ultra-dark jeans, and a big fucking watch on his wrist. He'd never bought that yacht, so he settled for something ornate and overpriced that he could carry around with him and look at whenever he wanted. Even with the watch, he wasn't sure if he was on time or late like usual, but he went through the door to meet her just like he'd said that he would.]