[ Does he deserve to hear nice things about himself? It's hard to say. Most of the time Harold thinks what he deserves is to be dead. That's not any statement about his self-worth, it just seems logical. Rational. After the things he's done, the power he's created, and the deaths he's contributed to, it feels like the natural consequence of the world that he should be dead as well. An if-then statement. If Nathan dies because of him, then he should die as well.

He had seen a counselor, afterwards -- not as himself, of course -- and asked if grief ever passes. If it serves any purpose. Harold doesn't think at this point he'll ever find out, or ever be without it. But he is alive, and while he is, he won't waste it. He isn't looking for death, he's just confused about why he's still here. The absolute least he can do is put more good into the world instead of bad with this borrowed time, fulfill what Nathan had been trying to do that Harold wouldn't help him with before, more in honor to his memory than as a kind of repentance. But he really isn't looking for anyone else to notice.

Harold wants to move past it as quickly as possible. He smiles back as he glances up again, much more wryly than her. ]

Not so bad, but frequently surreal. One of the first people I met here was four feet tall and green. A very helpful young man in a waistcoat.