#hoblisms

[inhcritance]

@ccontinued from here

Had anyone asked the Harry Osborn that was known by the media, the Harry Osborn that comfortably followed the counsel of Oscorp's PR agents, he'd have no need to skulk in the shadows. No desire to do so: he may be a private person, for most personal matters, but he was also a socialite, and a patron of too many initiatives and charities to really hide himself.

Of course, he hid himself all the time to avoid the press, be it with clothing or less notorious cars or different habits... but that would have surprised nobody. It wouldn't correlate to an ability to be properly sinister, if desired. Then again, beyond those facets of his, Harry had not been the Green Goblin for months now without learning some useful abilities, among them that of being discreet... and that of being aware of when he was in a New York that wasn't his.

Admittedly, he had not expected to see a Glider -or a device that looked remarkably the part- crash-land into an alley, but it was not such an oddity he did not approach. Curious and intrigued and wary both, because he had a hunch about the identities of both fighters, or at least who they would correlate to, but that was never certain in these situations and so some caution was warranted: he'd shifted the Goblin's armor so that it looked like a faux-leather attire instead, trousers and a biker jacket and a dark shirt underneath, face uncovered and faintly concerned, and an arched eyebrow at the raised... sword. Because that was new.

"It wouldn't be a cliche if it weren't so useful." Was his answer, easy, unbothered. And then, "Are you alright?"

Like a concerned civilian, perhaps just a reckless one, but the voice behind the mask sounded younger than he'd expected.

"Beyond whatever might remain of your pride, I mean."