Harry is happily drugged with percocet when Phillip enters the hospital room. His eyes light up when he spots the care package from Elizabeth. It wasn't like he wanted to eat hospital food if he could help it.

"I think you win employee of the year for the rescue, but if Elizabeth included her peanut butter cookies you may have to share the prize with her."

He tosses the paper at Philip and grins, "No charges were pressed and I personally think Todd and my cover story for what went down was kind of brilliant. Thanks for the assist."

"Anytime, boss,"

Phillip replies, deposing the care package next to Harry's bed.

"But there is one question I have, and you better answer it straight, or it'll have to be ex-employe of the year."

He narrows his eyes at Harry and lets enough time pass to make the kid sweat a little.

"Did that twerp Campbell actually have something going with Cordelia Chase?"

"You wouldn't leave me," Harry says and he knows he's right. He can count on his staff not to take off on him. It was his family and lovers who normally bolted. Of course this time he was the one who bolted, but he doesn't want to think about that too much.

"I don't think so. I never dated her so it's probably the same thing. Maybe he took her to a charity event or their friends, you know?"

Harry looks through the care package and sure enough there are peanut butter cookies. Elizabeth always knows exactly what will make Harry smile. Maria's lasagna is there too. He's in heaven.

"Why the interest in Cordelia?"

"Hm, I don't know. Lex Luthor offered some sweet money. Of course, he's not about to offer me a share of Maria's lasagne, is he?"

Phillip drags a hospital chair close and sits down.

"Come on, boss. No offense to your personal taste, but she was clearly the most gorgeous woman on that island. I'm overloaded with work, not blind. You don't want to think of that Mona Lisa girl in Paris being fingered by some whiner with oily fingers, do you?"

"If you ever leave me for Luthor, I'd send Elizabeth and Maria after you to bring you back. I'm so not kidding."

Harry reaches for the lasagna and winces slightly when he moves, but he shakes his head when Phillip reaches out to help. "I got it. Just broken kneecaps. I've had worse...I think."

Harry arches an eyebrow, but says nothing while he dishes out the lasagna. Once the food is settled, he says, "Cordelia is Connor's ex-girlfriend. She's married to Orlando Bloom and I can see why you'd be attracted. I'm guessing the jeweler won't take that ring back. Any suggestions on what to do with it?"

"Kid, I've seen you after that someone did a knife number on you. I know you've had worse."

Phillip shakes his head. What he doesn't say, since for all their banter there are lines he knows better than to cross, is that he has seen Harry Osborn after various confrontations with the Old Man, and after the Old Man died. Which might not have featured broken kneecaps, but had worse results.

"Question is, did that Campbell guy? Because he strikes me as someone who had it coming for a long time."

After receiving his share of lasagna, Phillip does his best to conceal his surprise that the rent boy managed to score with the sublime Cordelia once upon a time. Ah well. He had no idea what she was seeing in Blank Face Bloom, either.

"Like you said, boss, the lady is married. Now diamonds may be a girl's best friend, but they don't take them from the hired help."

He sounds a bit wistful, but not heartbroken. It had been a fun evening, but he never kidded himself it could be more. Not that he wouldn't be delighted if Cordelia nodded in his direction again, but Phillip knows the rules. Rich girls, like rich boys, may have fun outside their social circle now and then, but that was that, and if you showed up the next morning, shared fun would turn into sour vinegar.

Mischieviously, he adds:

"My advice? Give it to Campbell's fiancee. He'll probably have a fit."

It's true. Harry has had various violent encounters that landed him in the hospital. He remembers some of them. Others are just alcohol black outs. He of course appreciates the fact that his father isn't brought up as an example of people who did a worse number on him than Campbell.

"Yeah, I'm sure he has. Guys like Todd and me have this way of charming people with our stellar personalities. At least it won't be a total media scandal this time and the cops have been bought off so it's cool."

Rich girls usually end up with rich guys. That's true. They are raised to marry each other and have the typical marriage where you smile in front of the cameras and keep secrets behind closed doors.

"I can't afford something like that getting back to Kara. I'll store it away until I absolutely have to choose a trophy wife and put it to good use then. What are my chances of finding a nice lesbian who wants to get her parents off her back the way I'll want to get the board off mine?"

Harry isn't joking. That would be the perfect marriage of convenience in his opinion. He takes a couple bites of the lasagna and ponders how long he has before they will demand he makes those kind of choices. He's almost twenty-two. He figures at twenty-five they will spazz. By thirty he'll be expected to have started a family. He thinks that castle in Ireland or Scotland sounds good in comparison.

"I'll let the lab fix me up, but I have to play nice for the doctors for a few days. I had that raise and bonus transfered to your account because I figured you didn't want to be paid in legos. Once my knees are fixed and I have a bit of down time I think it will be time for a trip to Switzerland. He's never been skiing and I don't really want to go to Aspen, you know?"

Harry pauses and adds, "The ski bunnies in Switzerland are hot. Just saying."

„Cop in New York,“

Phillip muses between lasagna bites.

“That should’ve been my career choice. Always bribes from scandal-ridden millionaires, and you get rap songs about you.”

As it is Philipp’s considered and not unfond opinion that nobody but a lesbian should have to up with Harry Osborn for a husband on any kind of long-term basis, he finds himself nodding along.

“Percentage has to be in your favour, boss,” he says matter-of-factly. “Any kind of not nice lesbian will slap you in the face for asking, right?”

He packs out some iced beer which he brought along for himself, and water which the doctors insist is the only thing Harry is allowed right now due to his medication, and pours. Considering Harry was at Aspen with the girl, he’s not surprised he doesn’t want to go there with the boy. The kid does have tact every now and then. But the fact the boy is still an issue and about to get a trip to the Alps, more than two months after all of this started, now that is surprising. Harry usually doesn’t go for any kind of of non-casualness when it comes to boys. It’s against the unwritten rules. In other words, that boy probably was going to spell more trouble.

“Hm. Well, I always had a thing for French accents,” he says, regarding the ski bunnies, who are indeed a delightful prospect. Even though they’ll probably pale against the divine Cordelia. “Consider that flight plan filed, boss.”

"You still would have ended up bailing my ass out of trouble, but I'd probably have hit on your because you came with a set of cuffs."

Harry snickers at Phillip's reaction. Maybe it was a little mean to make that crack while Phillip was drinking, but Harry Osborn is a brat. The people most likely to see his brat side are those who were around when he was a kid.

"Seriously. I need to start looking into that option. I find a pretty lesbian who is looking for the same cover as me? It could possibly end up being the happiest and healthiest wedding New York Society has seen in decades."

Harry doesn't drink beer. He's strictly a liquor, champagne and excellent bottles of wine kind of guy. He's riding a percocet high right now so water works out perfectly.

"I lost a bet so if you don't mind swinging by Macy's and picking up flannel pajamas I'd be most appreciative. Don't ask, it was a lucky hand and I totally should have won that game."

"Tomorrow, it's hospital food for you, soldier,"

Phillip says after hunting for a towel to get rid of spilled beer.

"Or I'll make Bernard visit. Would serve both of you right."

Flannel pajamas? Harry Osborn? That is a good one. Phillip smirks.

"Jeez, kid, you and your thing for punishment. Right. Any patterns you have to go for?"

"You'd never send him to visit. You'd be too afraid he'd finally snap and smother me with a pillow and then who would you possibly find to be as amazing of a boss as me?"

Harry sighs and can't even scowl at the smirk. It's not like Harry wouldn't fine it hysterical if it was Connor who lost the poker game.

"He's a sadist. A twisted sadist, but I'll have my revenge. Eventually he'll be dressed in Armani. Nah, anything works, but give a guy in pain a break. No yellow or orange patterns. Stick to reds, blues, greens and blacks. You know, traditional trucker wear or something."

"There is that,"

Phillip agrees, takes the empty plates and packs them into the cooler Elizabeth had given him.

"I mean, Luthor used to be good, but these days he's narrowed down to a scandal a year, and that's just boring."

He toasts Harry with his beer. So the boy has a sense of humour. Not stupid, either, recalling his questions about the jet the first time he was on board, on that supposed emergency mission for the girl. Yep, trouble. That or something like those months Harry spent apartment sharing with the Parker kid before Old Man Osborn died. Junior had actually come across as happy most of the time. Too bad happiness never lasts. Ah well. Let the kid have another shot at trying.

"I'll make sure to get you a DVD of Convoy to watch here in preparation,

Phillip says. "Anything else, boss?"

"Well, he's like almost twenty-five now and has been married a couple of times. I'm still in my prime. Give me a couple of years and I'm sure I'll mellow out a bit."

Harry yawns and shakes his head at the question. He's tired. The emotional stress from what happened on the island is mixing with the pain pills and he really just wants to sleep.

"Just tell the guard outside I don't want any visitors tonight. Unless MJ shows up and I doubt she will. Talk to you tomorrow, thanks."

"You've got it, kid,"

Phillip says, and looks at Harry with a mixture of fondness and exasparation. It'll be surprising if Harry makes thirty. Which is a bloody shame.

"Sleep well."

He takes the basket, and leaves.