"Everybody wants my money," he argued, shaking his head. But he didn't press the issue, retracting the offer and tucking the bills back into his pocket. Letting his gaze fall to the ground in front of him, Harry took a step back to lean against the ledge, crossing his arms once more and avoiding eye contact. None of this was how his night was supposed to go. Something about the whole situation felt so weird to him, and he couldn't put his finger on why. Spider-Man seemed genuinely upset by the implication that he might be susceptible to bribery, but Harry didn't know him, how the fuck would he know if that's what he was about?
God, maybe he had a spider-stalker.
"I just don't--" he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to formulate the thought as concisely as possible. "What do you want from me? If you're not looking to blackmail me and you're not going to turn me in, I don't know what you're looking for. I get that you're Peter's friend, which is great. You know, Peter's my favorite person in the world. I don't have a lot of heart-to-heart talks with strangers in rooftops. So I really... I don't know what you're looking for, man."