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[forasecond]

@ callidus » "Make it quick."

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0.01 Luther

0.03 Allison

Harry

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[forasecond]

His eyebrows lift at that: was this what taking everything well looked like, buddy? But he didn’t say anything. His face probably said plenty m.

Five hasn’t forgotten this— terminal disease, no cure, prognosis not good. He’s guessing this means Harry either hasn’t found, or hasn’t looked for, any better alternatives. “Are you sure he can cure you?” Best friend? Either Harry has worse taste in friends than he thought— and hey, Five is one of his inner circle, so maybe there’s something to that thought— or there’s more to the story.

[nepotis]

Harry's looked for other ways of healing himself. Nothing seems to work, at least not permanently. He's looking fine now, all things considered, but that's just because he's fresh off of taking out his frustrations on some random asshole in a back alley. (Which he is not about to admit to, thank you very much.)

"His blood is... mutated or something. Gene-spliced DNA, able to heal itself." There's more to it than that, but 1) saying anything more specific might spill Peter's secret, and 2) Harry's too drunk to really remember the scientific mumbo jumbo about cross-species genetics.

"If there was anything, or anyone, back home that could be used to find a cure... It would be his blood."

[forasecond]

He hums a soft non-committal sound and nods a little. It makes as much sense as anything in the way preternatural human biology does.

"There's probably still plenty of room for something like gene-spliced, mutated DNA to go incredibly sideways, but I get it," he admits with a slight nod. "If you're doomed to die anyway, you may as well give the most radical possibility a shot. It won't make it any worse, right?"

Even if Five might argue there are plenty of things much worse than death.His opinions have no place in this conversation.

[nepotis]

Getting more and more agitated as the conversation goes on, Harry downs the rest of his glass and pushes himself up to stalk over to the liquor cabinet and get a refill.

"I get it. It could have gone horribly wrong. That's not the point. I'm over that now!" He is clearly not over it, given the way he's acting, but whatever. He refills his drink and starts pacing the floor.

"The point isn't whether or not it would have worked. The point is that he lied to me. I told him I needed Spider-Man's blood and he could have told me right then and there that he was Spider-Man, but he didn't. He lied to my face."

[forasecond]

Five is... utterly unphased by the agitation. If anything, it only gets him a flat look at best as he watches Harry get to his feet and grab more liquor from the cabinet. He doesn't comment on the fact that he's clearly not over it, instead he just sips at his own drink and watches him, lets him get it all out, because sometimes that's all there is.

"Answer this-" he says, setting his glass down. "What difference do you think it would have made in that moment? When you were making those demands for Spider-Man's blood- if he'd told you they were one and the same... do you think it would have made you feel better to get the rejection for what you saw as the only potential cure from your best friend, rather than a faceless stranger?"

Five thinks, actually, it would have been ten times worse if he'd known then, instead of finding out now.