Harry Ryan has two first names (sybarite) wrote in rooms,
[There was a little remote attached to his bed. It controlled everything from the tilt of the bed to the temperature in the room. It also controlled the television, although even the non-local channels were reporting on the events at Oscorp, and Harry decided to turn the tv off after that. He'd experienced the pulse himself, he didn't need to relive it from cameraphone footage and eyewitness accounts.
Harry still didn't remember the incident or anything that had happened that morning, but the nurses assured him that a little memory loss was common with brain injuries. Timelines and events were a little jumbled, even from further back than just today. If it wasn't for the concussion, it might have bothered Harry enough to really try to figure out what all he was forgetting.
Like Peter. Harry was aware that he hadn't talked to Pete in a long time, and that maybe they weren't quite friends anymore. But thinking through all of the reasons why that might have been the case was way more exhausting than just going with it when Pete messaged him about Gwen.
And Gwen. The thought of her made him smile. If there was any reason for him to feel guilty about her, any reason stemming from late nights in parks or club VIPs, it wasn't at the forefront of his mind, and overthinking things just wasn't something he was capable of at the moment.
He blinked, delayed reaction and a slightly fuzzy smile on his face when he looked her way.] Sure. [The fact that he couldn't immediately remember what lesson she was talking about was ignored in favor of being genuinely pleased to see her. Then he looked down at the little animal cracker cow in his hand, and it came back to him.] Phylums, right?