[ Harry Osborn is a regular in MJ's nightclub. He's here three, maybe four times a week. He's not interested in the themed parties or the disco nights. He's mostly here to drown himself in alcohol. The good kind. The expensive kind. The kind only Mary Jane Watson knows how to pour apparently because there are plenty of other bars that don't serve as a nightclub/karaoke center here in Wonderland -- but here he is anyways. ]
I'll have the usual. [ He forces out a smile as he takes a seat by the bar. He has days where he barely talks and days where he says a little too much maybe. Like two nights ago for instance when he told MJ about his troubles. That he sometimes wakes up with no recollection of how many days have gone past. That he thinks he might be losing his mind. Or that he might be suffering from dementia. Because a week ago he'd woken up with a gash on his forehead, and for the life of him, he can't recall how he'd gotten himself injured. But that's not the worst of it. He's been losing track of time. Take today, for example: he remembers having breakfast this morning, but nothing about the rest of his afternoon. ]
How are you? [ Harry's wondering now if he's said anything else to her that he's not aware of -- if he's spilled too many secrets. He hopes that night had been the one and only time he'd made a complete fool of himself. The last thing he wants is for her to think that he's going insane. He would hate for anyone to have that impression about him. ]
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I'll have the usual. [ He forces out a smile as he takes a seat by the bar. He has days where he barely talks and days where he says a little too much maybe. Like two nights ago for instance when he told MJ about his troubles. That he sometimes wakes up with no recollection of how many days have gone past. That he thinks he might be losing his mind. Or that he might be suffering from dementia. Because a week ago he'd woken up with a gash on his forehead, and for the life of him, he can't recall how he'd gotten himself injured. But that's not the worst of it. He's been losing track of time. Take today, for example: he remembers having breakfast this morning, but nothing about the rest of his afternoon. ]
How are you? [ Harry's wondering now if he's said anything else to her that he's not aware of -- if he's spilled too many secrets. He hopes that night had been the one and only time he'd made a complete fool of himself. The last thing he wants is for her to think that he's going insane. He would hate for anyone to have that impression about him. ]